We watch hunting shows, Discovery or National Geographic, and we get the impression that hunting Zebra is like shooting fish in a barrel. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yes, I'm sure there are times when a Hunter stumbles onto a herd, makes a short stalk and makes a good shot. Hunt over, no problem. However, many friends/clients have told me they had a very difficult time getting their Zebra, some came home empty handed. Having seen Zebra on previous hunts, I found them to be wary, and keeping their distance. But this was in broken bushveld. Last month while in Zimbabwe, I hunted three days in brutal summer heat (100-110 degrees) and thick lowveld bush before I took a Zebra. Ranges were normally close contact: 50-100 yards, but try and pick out a Stallion from a herd of Colts and Mares. There will normally be one Stallion with a small herd of Mares. One second you have the shot, the next it's gone. I literally stumbled onto mine. We rounded a bend in the trail and there stood a Stallion; all by himself. He was slightly facing to my left, but almost straight on. Range was estimated at 110-120 yards. I placed my cross hairs just behind his left shoulder as he moved just a little to his right. At the shot, the .300 RUM's recoil interrupted my field of view (and rang my ears) so my sight picture didn't look as if he was hit. I didn't hear the familiar "whop" either. He just spun around to my right (swapping ends) and took off in the bush. My tracker, PH and entourage (they were filming) took off ahead of me. By the time I arrived at where the Zebra was standing, my tracker had found a tiny (green pea sized) spot of blood and was off ahead of me by 50 yards. He was pointing up towards a granite Kopji (hill) and there stood my Zebra; broadside and unobstructed by the heavy bush. No time for a shot, he was off in a flash. We followed slowly as there was only one swipe of blood on a high blade of grass, but Keffers, my tracker was following spoor at a fast trot. I saw my PH bend over and look at something in the high grass and I walked up to him to find a fresh pile of Zebra dung. "He's been gut shot" my PH said. "What, there's no way!" I replied. "I've seen this before, and they're always gut shot." My PH was referring to the dung. It looks just like Horse manure, but this was as if someone had crumbled it up with their hands. "I'm sure I didn't flinch or pull my shot" I exclaimed. About that time Keffers whistled. I looked up and he franticly motioned for me to hurry. I ran through the high grass as carefully as one can while carrying a rifle, hoping I wouldn't meet one of the Mamba's we'd encountered that morning. As my PH and I reached Keffers, he pointed up the facing hill. There stood my Zebra staring at us. The range was 125ish yards. My PH offered his shoulder as a shooting platform and as he plugged his ears I placed the cross hairs just inside the Zebras right shoulder. He looked to his left at some Blue Wildebeest's we had spooked and I squeezed the trigger. At the impact, he spun to his left and headed behind some Mopane tree's, bush and high grass. I couldn't see anything. Keffers was off before I could remove my empty cartridge. We followed. As I rounded some high bush, there was Keffers signaling he was down. After the usual hand shakes, we examined my shot placements. My first 180 grain Barnes had entered just behind his left shoulder, traveled through the rib cage at a 45 degree angle and exited behind the right ribs, missing the lungs (going under them). Thus the "gut shot" effect. My second shot entered just inside the right shoulder, angled downward and came out behind the sternum cutting a two inch gash; reentered under the skin and came out again cutting another two inch gash. Zebra are large animals. Not as big as our Quarter Horse by any means, but about the size of a small Horse. They are very wary and as tough as I've heard they are to bring down. However, I'm confident that a well constructed .270 to 30-06 bullet placed through both lungs would expire one without any problems. One very good tip to remember: African game animals are built different from ours. Their lungs aren't the large somewhat oval target as in our Deer and Elk. Their lungs take a steep upward 45 degree angle at their shoulder. So if you want to double lung Plains Game, shoot very tight at the edge of the shoulder (bow) or break it with rifle. The old American "anywhere within 4-6 inches behind the center of the shoulder" will cost you when hunting African species. Most of my pictures are too large to post here. Anyone wishing to view them are welcome to look at my web site. Good hunting, grayghost

[QUOTE=grayghost]We watch hunting shows, Discovery or National Geographic, and we get the impression that hunting Zebra is like shooting fish in a barrel. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I read your post and had a rush of memories about zebra on my only trip (sadly) to Africa. I had taken a buff -and woke one morning with a sudden desire to get a zebra. I said so to the PH. (This was in the Chirisa safari district of Zimbabwe) So we were bouncing along very early one morning in the trusty LandCruiser. Brakes on. We see 3-4 zebra on a brushy slope very early one morning.. I jump out and pick the lead zebra (who looked as big as a horse stallion. OK, I exaggerate but he was big) I fired a 375, 300 gr. SP at about 70 yards. Just as I squeezed off, the zebra tok a step down the slope - and my shot hit high on the shoulder. He lurched sideways but righted himself almost immediately. That's when the fun began. The PH asked where I thought I hit him. I said I thought it was high. (The PH had already demonstrated his trust in me by allowing me to shoot my buff at less than 35 yards and I shot an impala for camp meat on an offhand shot running and he and the trackers trusted me) The PH said he thought I hit him in the leg. (He missed the step down the slope by the zebra) To make a long story short - The zebra was tracked until nearly sundown when the PH shot him. I dropped out of the chase some hours before. The PH told me that the zebra was still on his feet (although unlikely to survive the night before the lions or hyenas got him because he still was bleeding) I gave the skin to the PH's wife because I never felt that I could look at the zebra cover in my house without remembering that it wasn't me who got him. One tough critter. (BTW, if I was superstitious I could mention that my mother was a champion horsewoman with all kinds of ribbons and trophy cups. She would not have taken kindly to her son shooting a cousin of a horse!) :)