‘Are you ready?’ he asked.
‘Loaded and pressurized with the safety on.’
‘Great. Can you see which one we want? Second from the back on the left-hand side.’
‘I’ve got him.’
‘With any luck he’ll stay at the back as they round that far bush to head up the hill. Then you can take the safety off. I’ll come in low. Then take the shot when you’re ready. Don’t rush it, but don’t hang around. After 50 metres they’ll bank off to the left over the hill into scrub.’
With that, he came in low, banking to the right over the large pregnant female who was the last in the group. It was a clever manoeuvre because she took off slightly ahead of the young stallion, which left him at the back as the group headed away from us.
‘So it’s the one at the back,’ he added.
‘I see him.’
The zebras followed the exact path Jacques had predicted the first time, and as they turned up the hill past the last bush, they were cantering in single file. Jacques brought the helicopter low in behind the last one till we were no more than 10 metres off the ground. I brought the gun up to my shoulder and found the zebra through the scope. I tried to steady it, fighting my nerves and pounding heart. I clicked off the safety, focused in on the zebra’s rump and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. I tried to refocus for another shot, but it was too late now. The moment had gone. Jacques pulled up and banked to the left as the zebras broke in the same direction and disappeared into thicker bush. I cursed. I had had the perfect shot but the gun had misfired.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ I said weakly to Jacques, half apologetically and half confused.
‘What pressure did you set?’ he asked.
‘Cobus said three bars so I went with that.’
‘Go with four.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yeah, you dropped well short, the dart caught the downdraught.’
‘You mean it actually fired? I didn’t feel anything or see the dart, so I thought it had misfired.’
‘No, no, you fired, it just dropped short.’
I was speechless; I didn’t know what to think. It was the strangest sensation. In the hundreds of times I’d previously pulled a trigger, I’d always known whether the weapon had fired, but on this occasion I’d felt nothing. Obviously the helicopter cut out the sound, but I hadn’t seen the dart either. I was absolutely convinced the Dan-Inject had failed to fire, but when I checked the barrel Jacques was right: no dart.
My inexperience had caused me to miss, and that couldn’t be helped; it was part of the learning exercise – but I still felt foolish and embarrassed, acutely aware of the limited number of times I could afford to miss. But I had to put it behind me and move on.
Having banked over the thick bushes where the zebras had taken temporary cover, Jacques was now studying the new terrain. I tried to do the same, to see if any of his skills were rubbing off on me, and think through the next plan of attack. Beyond these bushes the ground dropped away, eventually joining one of the vehicle tracks that followed the ridge through the middle of the farm. On the far side of this track the landscape again opened up into fields, although this time there were acacia trees scattered throughout the open space.
‘I’ll bring them onto this track and then they’ll head for the open field,’ Jacques told me. ‘But the trees will divide them so they won’t be in single file. You’ll have to be quick with the shot because I’ll be coming in between the trees, so don’t get distracted by them. Focus on the one you’re going for and stick with it. If you change your mind you’ll miss, I guarantee it. There are two in this group that we could take – that young stallion, and there’s a young mare that doesn’t look pregnant.’
‘OK.’ I processed everything he said, accepting it all without question. I had no idea how he could identify their age and sex from an aerial view, but I was sure he was right.
Circling over the zebras was enough to encourage them out of their temporary shelter and down onto the track. I reloaded quickly and got myself into position, unsure of how much time I had. Once again the zebras behaved as hoped: splitting around a tree into two groups, three of them sped to the left, and four to the right. When they re-emerged, I had struggled to identify the ones we wanted and was totally confused. Jacques was not: he stuck with the group of four.
‘Are you loaded? The back right one is the young mare, I’d go for her. Don’t hesitate.’
He dropped in low again, this time with the helicopter slightly banked to the right to avoid one of the taller trees, and I could see our shadow approaching fast from the ground below. This meant that we were drawing in on the zebras at a slightly oblique angle, so I realized my target this time was the thigh and not the rump. I focused through the scope as I took the safety off and without a second thought fired.
This time I could follow the trajectory of the dart, and to my utter frustration and distress, watched, as if in slow motion, it brush the back of her tail and disappear into the grass. I hadn’t factored in the different approach and had failed to give enough lead to compensate for her forward movement. I closed my eyes as I rocked back into the seat, instantly re-running the miss through my mind.
‘Sorry,’ I said feebly.
‘Don’t worry about it, everyone has to start somewhere. Besides, it was a difficult shot.’ His words were kind and comforting, but I couldn’t help feeling he must be getting frustrated. I wondered how many attempts I would get before I was gently asked to step down. Damn it, I was sure as hell going to get the next one.
‘I think we’ll leave this group and find the others,’ said Jacques when he’d relayed my miss to Cobus. ‘We’ve chased these guys for a bit, so it’s time to give them a break.’
We headed back down towards the main farm entrance and almost instantly saw the other group to the left of us at the lower watering hole. At 200 feet we were no initial threat to them so they paid us no attention. Jacques flew a large circle over the five zebras to assess the topography and the best direction to send them. Although a dozen trees surrounded the watering hole, beyond it lay 200 metres of grassland in every direction. Beyond that to the left were the lodges, and below them the workers’ houses, so we would have to direct them back the way we had come.
‘There could be two quick shots here,’ Jacques noted. ‘They’ll be in single file along the path leading away from the watering hole – that’ll be your first opportunity. Then they’ll briefly disappear into the thick bush beyond, but on the other side the ground is very rocky and open and then they’ll have a steep ascent up onto the plateau, which will slow them down, allowing you your second shot. Just follow down their back and aim two-thirds of the way down. The speed they’ll be moving at will mean you’ll hit their rump, but if you’re a bit further forward it’ll just go into their back muscle.’
‘Got it, thanks.’ Not only was he focused on his job, he was also aware of what I was doing wrong and coaching me on how to fix it. Everything about this helicopter experience was making me see these guys in a whole new light and to admire a whole new level of skill.
He made another half-circle pass, losing altitude as he did so. The zebras responded for the first time. Two heads came up, one shifting anxiously and another letting out a warning bark.
‘OK, so there’s a stallion on his own off to the right, two younger ones below the watering hole and then two pregnant mares to the left. We’ll go for those two younger ones. Hopefully they’ll be at the back.’
‘I see them.’
‘Good, well load up again. I’ll come round and get them moving.’
Dart loaded, four bars of pressure set, I adjusted my position. I had to get this one. As we crested the treetops, the zebras bolted away from us, converging in single file along their familiar path.