‘She’s at the back.’
‘I’m on her.’
Off went the safety. I followed back from her neck through the scope and pulled the trigger. This time I hit, the pink feather of the dart starkly visible against the black and white stripes. It had impacted more on her back than her rump, but it was still a safe shot. The thrill and relief were instantaneous. The impact caused her to slow, check herself and then break off to the right, leaving the group, but Jacques ignored her and continued to follow behind the others.
‘Well done! Now reload and get ready for the next shot.’ He confirmed the darting with the ground crew and informed them of our pursuit for the second. We were still only 20 feet off the ground as the group disappeared into the thick bush just below us. This time Jacques didn’t pull up, and skimming the brush we immediately saw the lead zebra emerge out the other side onto the rocky opening. ‘She’s second from the back.’
‘Thanks.’ I was reloading before the instruction came, feeling a pure exhilaration.
And now, for the first time that day, the zebras didn’t behave as Jacques had predicted. Instead, the stallion took them off to the left to head for a small opening at the bottom of the rocky enclave that led into a thick wooded area. In hindsight it was probably where they had been hiding when we had started our search thirty minutes before. Jacques adjusted his course. ‘Hang on, don’t shoot yet …’
But it was too late. In my adrenaline-fuelled eagerness, I had already zeroed in on the young mare and pulled the trigger. Changing course, her back dipped as she engaged her hind-quarters to propel her in a new direction, and the dart flew just over her rump.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
‘You can’t get too carried away in this game. You need to keep a cool head.’ For the first time I sensed annoyance in Jacques’s voice. ‘We’ll go back and find that darted one.’ He pulled up and off to the left, turning back towards where we had last seen her. We could see the fully loaded bakkie approaching down the tracks from the feeding ground. I scoured the area looking for the familiar black and white stripes. Jacques spotted her before I did, trotting on the spot under an acacia tree. The drug was already taking effect. Moments later she was down.
The bakkie stopped and everyone disembarked. From 100 feet up, they looked like ants aimlessly wandering through the tall grass. Not being privy to our view, they were clueless as to the zebra’s whereabouts, despite our hovering directly above her. Then suddenly she was spotted and the team descended on her like moths to a flame.
‘How many darts have you got left?’ Jacques asked as he pulled up and away from the now secured zebra.
‘I’m out.’
‘OK, we’ll land and you should probably make up four more.’ The statement was polite, but I could sense his frustration.
‘Thanks.’ I desperately wanted to reply that I’d only need two, but realized it would be my pride speaking so decided not to argue.
Moments later we landed on the feeding ground. As I prepared to remove my headset to disembark, the engine still running and propellers still whirring, I caught Jacques’s voice in the headset.
‘Don’t forget to leave to the front of the helicopter. You want to stay well clear of that back rotor blade.’ I was grateful for the reminder. I knew that, of course, but I was so caught up with the darting that I could easily imagine it slipping my mind – a mistake you would only make the once.
I left the helicopter and dashed back to my truck. With a helicopter whirring away behind me, and the group arriving to unload the first zebra in front of me, it was just as well I had plenty of experience of making up these darts. There were enough other pressures and distractions without struggling to remember all the steps involved. Within about ten minutes I had prepared all four darts with the dosage Cobus had suggested, and was heading back to join Jacques in the helicopter, and then we took off again.
‘If I can flush them out of here,’ I heard him saying in my headphones, ‘they’ll head up the rocky embankment and onto the upper plain … You should have a nice shot on the female and then we’ll get the male from the other group. OK?’
‘Sure,’ I replied. I felt I knew what I was doing this time. If Jacques was right and they headed up the rocky path, it would be a straight-on shot, with no direction change. I would definitely get this one. I felt a surge of excited determination.
Jacques flew deliberately low over the bottom woodland border, turning sharply and banking over the perimeter fence, where we hovered for a moment almost vertical to the ground, a manoeuvre designed to corral the zebras back towards the upper trees near where they had entered.
‘Load up. I’ll fly low over this area sounding the siren. That should flush them out, so you need to be ready for the shot.’
‘Will do.’ I didn’t need telling twice, and within seconds the dart gun was loaded. At the same time Jacques dropped the helicopter, bringing it in horizontally and low over the trees. The movement gave me the same sensation as a roller-coaster ride, throwing me into my seat. I had to brace myself against the doorframe as my right foot slipped on the skid, but I quickly regained my position, leaning fully out of the helicopter ready for Jacques’s instruction. Meanwhile, as we flew over the trees towards the rocky bank, he intermittently sounded the siren, a combination that would have unsettled even the calmest of animals, and sure enough, the group of zebras burst out of hiding 30 feet in front of us.
‘She’s second from the front,’ Jacques said, having instantly assessed and identified them. ‘Remember – the same as before. Follow down her back and shoot, I’ll come in as they start climbing.’
‘Got it.’
Once again, Jacques’s prediction proved correct. Ignoring the path to the watering hole they had used earlier, they headed straight for the rocky path and started to climb. I drew the gun into my shoulder, found her head through the scope and followed down her back, aiming left of her spine, tracking past her ribs, and then pulled the trigger. The dart impacted exactly where I had aimed. It was a high shot, maybe a foot in front of her rump, but it hit muscle to the side of the vertebrae and I’d have preferred that than aiming for the rump and missing. I silently congratulated myself; I finally felt I was getting the hang of this.
Don’t get too cocky, boyo, I told myself. Two out of five is still pretty poor shooting. Jacques was immediately on the radio to Cobus, reporting the successful darting. At the same time he pulled up, banking off to the right to encourage the zebras running behind to stick with the front two and continue up onto the flat plain above. Circling behind them, we hovered at a distance to allow them to regroup and settle. Off to our right the bakkie was on the move. Minutes later, the zebra started trotting on the spot as the drug took effect, and her bizarre and unusual behaviour sent the other three zebras fleeing, leaving her on her own. This time the ground crew had spotted her easily and slowly started making their way towards her, ready to get to her as soon as she went down. That was our signal. We left in search of the other group and the last zebra.
This time they were easy to spot; they had not moved far since we left them earlier, having obviously decided that, with the helicopter gone, it was safe to continue grazing on the plain. Our return, however, had sent them running and we found them as they headed back over the brow in the direction of the fields where I had taken my first shot.
‘I’ll take them back through the thick bush. They’ll either head up towards the hiding spot where we first found them or break right and head down towards the fields. Either way they’ll be in single file when they come out the other side so that’ll be your shot. Load up.’