The Travelling Vet

18

ZEBRA

‘I asked the zebra, Are you black with white stripes? Or white with black stripes? And the zebra asked me, Are you good with bad habits? Or are you bad with good habits?’

Shel Silverstein

‘We’ll have to use the helicopter.’ Cobus’s distinctive voice crackled across the two-way radio on the dashboard of my Ford Ranger. ‘We’ll never catch them now! Let’s reconvene at the office for a coffee and I’ll call Jacques.’

At a fee of 6,000 rand per hour, a helicopter vastly increased the cost of any capture operation, but with wildlife work there were so many potential pitfalls and complications that if you wanted to have the best chance of success, then realism, practicality and efficiency had to count above expense. Having eyes in the sky simply made sense and had so many advantages, the main one being that the terrain and vegetation in the bush often left huge areas inaccessible by vehicle. Going in on foot could present dangers when working with wildlife animals, and most large mammals never fear an aerial attack, so are often much more approachable from a helicopter. So, as long as it could be afforded, and unless the operation was a simple procedure on the ground, a helicopter had become an indispensable tool for wildlife work.

The objects of our search were the two zebra herds on the farm, but in four hours we had only, and briefly, spotted them a couple of times, before they disappeared into dense bush, never allowing an opportunity to dart them. The decision to call in the helicopter was welcome, eminently sensible, and besides, I fancied a coffee. The crazy and immensely frustrating reality was that on every previous day that week we could have darted all twelve zebras with ease. They were always about, whether at the feeding ground, grazing out in the fields, or at one of the watering holes on the farm. But today, the day we’d set out to catch three of the group, they were, of course, nowhere to be found. Conversely, every other animal on the farm was grazing happily and in full view: there were blesboks, giraffes, wildebeest, impalas, ostriches and hartebeest aplenty … but not a single zebra anywhere to be seen. It was almost as if they knew of our plans, and had made themselves scarce.

In Cobus’s long experience, however – and he knew a thing or two – it was always the same. No matter how tame the animal, or how easy it usually is to find them, on the day you select for their capture, they instinctively vanish. Changes in behaviour, vehicles, people, noises, feeding regimes – it can be any number of things, but no wild animal will hang around to take a chance.

One of the skills of wildlife capture is therefore to minimize an animal’s exposure to the unfamiliar, always approaching in the same vehicle with the same driver, and from the same direction, for example. However, there are times when such a strategy simply isn’t possible, and it is then that a proper understanding of different species, and an anticipation of how they’ll behave, becomes vital to success. Combined with a bit of talent for the job, this will always give you a fighting chance, and after that it largely comes down to luck.

That morning we had set out early in three vehicles, with the objective of darting and relocating three of the twelve zebras on the 60-hectare farm where we were staying – a very small game reserve, by African standards. The topography was undulating, with several high, barren, rocky peaks, where true grazing and browsing areas were limited. These factors restricted the number of animals the farm could successfully sustain while the type of flora determined the species that it would support.

There were plenty of acacia and mimosa trees to keep the four giraffes well fed, being the only browsers on the farm, but when it came to the grazers, there was more competition. Although different grazing species have slightly varied foraging preferences, they still compete for grasslands. The choice is therefore between having more of a few fauna species, or less of several. The greatest biodiversity an ecosystem can sustain is always preferable to a monoculture, so in order to allow for impalas, wildebeest, blesboks, hartebeest, rheboks and ostriches, as well as the zebras, the calculation was that ten adult zebras were the optimum number for this particular area.

The farm currently had twelve adults and a foal, and three of the mares were heavily pregnant. It had also been an exceptionally dry summer, and the rains still hadn’t come, grazing was diminished and the watering holes were dry, which meant water had to be being brought in every week. So, although all the zebras were currently fit and well, they were overstocked, and with three foals imminent, their numbers had to be reduced before the intense competition for food became a welfare issue.

A buyer had meanwhile been found, who wanted one young stallion and two mares, and although the zebra numbers would need to be reduced further when the three foals were born, this would temporarily solve the population problem.

All the animals on the farm had their natural grazing or browsing diet supplemented with lucerne hay every evening. This served several purposes: to accustom the animals to human activity so they were easier to catch; to allow for easy monitoring of their health; and to create an incidentally magical evening spectacle. But as our unsuccessful morning had demonstrated, no matter how used to human activity they had become, they were still wild animals.

Cobus handed me and Laura a coffee each.

‘Well, that’s wildlife capture for you!’ He laughed. ‘Hope for the best, plan for the worst. They’re so intuitive.’

‘I saw them several times,’ I said. ‘I even tried to go in on foot, but it was almost as though they knew the range of the dart gun and kept themselves just beyond it with a few handy trees and bushes to make any attempted shot impossible.’

‘We’re always darting within an animal’s danger zone – that’s the area in which they can perceive a threat. And that’s because no dart gun has the accuracy and range to dart outside it. Seventy metres seems to be the key distance, and if you’re within that, the animal knows you’re there, and with the slightest fright they’ll take off. If you can dart them from further away, which we’ve done a couple of times with a trial system, the animal doesn’t react. They treat the dart as a nasty fly bite, give a swish of the tail and then carry on eating. The giraffe we darted dropped under the very tree it was feeding from. It was extraordinary to see.’

As ever, Cobus was a wealth of knowledge, experience and stories, little nuggets of conversation like this were priceless.

‘What happened with the new system?’ Laura asked.

‘Money, politics … It’s a shame. It was a great system, ballistically well designed and thought through, allowing for accurate darting at up to 100 metres. None of this 40 metres and you’re pushing your luck!’

‘With that system we could be sitting in the bar at the lodge and dart the zebra while they graze,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘A rum and Coke for me and some Etorphine for the zebra!’ We all laughed as we slurped our coffees.

‘Where are the students?’ Cobus now enquired.

‘We left them at the lodge, told them to grab a drink and have a rest,’ Laura replied.

‘I told Jacques to come at two … Why don’t we have lunch first? It won’t take long with the helicopter. Although it will depend on your darting ability,’ Cobus added, turning to me with a glint in his eye. ‘Do you fancy having a go from the helicopter?’

I nearly spat out my coffee in shock. I had always wanted the experience, but it had never seemed a remote possibility. What with the expense of a helicopter and the expectations of the client, the opportunity had simply never come up. I felt a churlish excitement but then almost immediately felt my heart racing at the fear of failure and of all the things that could possibly go wrong.

Almost as though he could read my mind, Cobus added, ‘You’ve had plenty of experience on the ground. You know what you’re doing and we all have to start somewhere. These are my zebras, my darts, my drugs, and Jacques will tell you exactly what to do, and will put you on the animal. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel. With a good helicopter pilot, and once you get used to it, it can often be easier darting from the helicopter than the ground. I’ve worked with Jacques for over twenty years and they don’t come much better than him.’

His words were reassuring and logically he was absolutely right. I couldn’t wish for a better situation to learn from, and it was as safe and as non-pressurized an environment as I could have wished for … but my heart was still pounding. I would be totally exposed: Jacques, Laura, Cobus, fourteen students and most of the capture team would all be relying on me. Everyone would witness any mistake I made, the fear could be paralysing, but this opportunity had presented itself and I was going to grab it with both hands. ‘When we give ourselves permission to fail,’ I remembered reading somewhere, ‘we at the same time give ourselves permission to excel.’

‘Thanks, I’d love to do it,’ I said now.

Back at the lodge, I was deep in thought as I ate my burger listening to the hive of chatter all around. Rumours were spreading among the students that they might get a ride in the helicopter if there was time after the capture. Great, I thought. Now I’d have a group of disappointed students to deal with on top of everything else if it all went wrong.

It was stepping into the complete unknown that I always found daunting. I remembered the utter fear of my first bungee jump, and the first time I dived onto a crocodile to restrain it, but the buzz afterwards, and the transformation of having those experiences in my memory bank, had always made the initial fear totally worth enduring. So I knew that whatever happened, in a few hours’ time I would be richer for the experience, and that thought added to my motivation.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by the familiar humming sound, and within minutes the helicopter was circling above us, no more than 100 feet up. Seconds later, Jacques landed on the feeding ground in a plume of dust. No matter how many times I had seen this sight before, I always marvelled at it: helicopters truly were the ultimate mode of transport.

The engine cut, the propellers slowed and the dust settled, revealing the R44 helicopter. Taking off his headset and clipping it onto the rack above his head, Jacques opened the door and stepped out, greeting Cobus with a broad grin and firm handshake. Turning to me, Cobus introduced us.

‘I thought we’d let Jonathan have a go today,’ he said.

‘Fine, no problem.’

And with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of working together, they both turned back to the helicopter, removing the four doors and the two jerry cans of extra fuel, placing them by a bush a short distance away.

I headed back to my bakkie to organize myself and gather my equipment. I’d made up a couple of darts that morning and had collected Cobus’s, so I had four darts for three zebras. I wasn’t too confident that would be enough, but Cobus reassured me, adding that it would be easy to land and make up some more should the need arise. The usual procedure was to make up more darts in the helicopter as required, but this would probably be one step too far for my first outing, and I didn’t protest.

With my Dan-Inject CO2 dart gun and container of four darts in hand, I returned to the helicopter where the students had gathered. Borrowing the dart gun from me to demonstrate, Cobus talked through the basic elements of technique, position and safety. Only use the lap strap of the three-point seatbelt so your movement won’t be restricted. Your right foot should rest on the skid, so you are halfway out of the helicopter, and your left foot should lock under the pilot’s seat to maintain balance. Always point the gun out of the helicopter, facing away and down; wait for the pilot’s command to get into the shooting position; aim to shoot in front of the helicopter to minimize the effect of the downdraught on the dart …

I tried to take it all in, to make a mental note of everything, so that I could play it back to myself as a coaching tool when aboard the helicopter. And then a wave of nausea suddenly engulfed me. What if I accidentally did something stupid and put Jacques’s life in danger? He had been flying for over twenty-seven years and never crashed. He alone serviced his helicopters, and knew every nut, bolt and screw. He could control everything about his aircraft – except me. It showed his immense trust in Cobus, I thought, to allow a complete stranger into the helicopter with a dart gun loaded with Etorphine.

Explanations done, Cobus took the students over to the vehicles to get them set up, leaving me with Jacques. I climbed into the helicopter, positioning myself as Cobus had done just moments before. I wasn’t quite as tall as him, so with my foot on the skid I was more out of the helicopter than in. I double-checked the seatbelt; it looked secure enough. Having done an external check around the helicopter, Jacques climbed into his seat. He was always punctilious about his checks. Working in a profession where the average life expectancy was six years, I could see why. He motioned to me to put my headset on as he did the same. Suddenly the outside world went quiet.

‘Can you hear me?’ Jacques’s voice sounded as though it was in my head.

‘Yeah, fine.’

‘All good? Are you happy?’

‘Yup, strapped in and set.’

‘Great! Just so you know, we can talk freely through this. They can’t hear us on the ground, but I can communicate with them on a different frequency. Does that make sense?’

‘Got it, thanks.’

‘So it’s your first time darting from the helicopter? It’ll take a bit of getting used to, but I’ll talk you through it. We’ll go up and find the groups and then I’ll work out which one to dart. From there it’s all about following them, anticipating their movements and looking at the terrain ahead for the best place to dart them. I’ll tell you when to load, when to get ready, when to take the safety off, and then it’s over to you.’

‘OK, that sounds good. How do you anticipate their movements?’

‘All animals have tracks and paths that they use. These are often invisible from the ground, but they are clear as day in the air, so you follow those, but it’s also a matter of experience, knowing how different animals move. Flying’s the easy part!’

I’d seen these guys in action from the ground and it was always impressive, but I knew I was now about to witness Jacques’s skill on a whole other level.

‘Oh, one final thing. Make sure you keep that gun well away from the skid. If the dart accidentally hits it, the drug will spray into my face. If that happens I’ll be taking you to 5,000 feet, by which time I’ll be unconscious, so it’ll be your problem!’ His laugh had an air of defiance about it, and I knew he wasn’t joking.

Best not hit the skid, then, I thought, nervously pointing the gun further away outside the helicopter.

‘Helicopter to ground crew, do you read, over?’

‘Hearing you loud and clear,’ came Cobus’s slightly crackly reply across the radio.

‘OK, let’s get this bird in the air!’

Jacques was already flicking switches, and then with a sudden roar, the engine started, the slow revolutions of the propellers quickly picked up, and with a slight jerk we lifted off, hovering momentarily a couple of feet off the ground before we rose into the air, banking away to the right. It was hugely exhilarating. I felt like the ultimate action hero.

Settling at a couple of hundred feet in the air, we headed for the front gate to start a systematic sweep of the farm. Although I knew the terrain fairly well, it now appeared completely alien and unfamiliar, and I quickly lost my bearings.

‘There are some of the tracks I was talking about,’ Jacques said, pointing out of the helicopter to the right.

He was right: they were as clear as day, well-defined paths through the scrubland, yet barely visible from the ground.

A herd of impalas were the first animals we saw, and then two giraffes browsing at the top branches of a mimosa tree, none of which took any notice of us. Over the rocky terrain on the far side of the farm we found the wildebeest and blesboks. Looking far across to the right, I could see all the students gathered around the bakkies and trailers on the feeding ground, their eyes fixed on us, oblivious to the ostrich that suddenly darted across the road to their left. It was an amazing perspective.

Within minutes we were at the top boundary of the farm – a distance that would have taken over an hour on foot. It was there that we got our first sighting of one of the zebra groups. There were seven animals in all, in thick bush at the top of a rocky hill and completely inaccessible by car. This was clearly one of their secret hiding places.

‘We have a visual,’ Jacques reported back. ‘I’ll bring them out into the open for darting. Stand by. Over.’

‘Roger that,’ Cobus replied.

Looking back towards the feeding ground, I could see a frenzy of activity as they loaded up into the two bakkies in preparation. My heart started to pound. The sightseeing tour was over, and it would soon be over to me.

‘I’ll bring them down into the open,’ he said to me. ‘Do you see the second from the back? That’s a young stallion, I think we’ll go for him first.’

I marvelled at his skill. The vegetation was quite thick, so even from the air they were difficult to see. I could see one that looked quite large so I assumed she was a pregnant female, but as to sexing the rest I was at a complete loss. Flying over them and turning back, Jacques came in low, till he was about 50 feet above them, to direct them down the rocky hill. The proximity of the unfamiliar air attack was enough to set them moving.

‘Can you see the path they’re following? This isn’t the first time they’ve been up here.’ I saw how the path zigzagged from side to side down the rocky embankment. ‘You’d never take a shot in this situation.’ He slowed the helicopter behind them, all the time watching them and assessing the terrain ahead. ‘They’re constantly changing direction,’ he went on. ‘The ideal shot is a path that takes them straight and on an incline so their speed is slowed and you can come in straight behind them. We don’t always get that, but we will today. When they come out of the brush they’ll turn left and then head off to that bottom field over there.’ He pointed at an open expanse of grassland separated by half a dozen large bushes. ‘Then I’ll bring us back round the other side of them and they’ll be heading in single file up the hill – so that will be your shot. You can load a dart now. But keep the safety on.’

‘OK, thanks.’ It dawned on me that, as we had been flying, he had been carefully studying the terrain, creating a detailed map in his mind of every track and path. He was reading the landscape like I would an Ordnance Survey map, but instead of roads, footpaths and bridal ways, he was seeing impala routes, zebra paths and giraffe tracks. It was a skill I could barely fathom.

Keeping the Dan-Inject well out of the helicopter, I unscrewed the locking mechanism and loaded the dart into the barrel. Screwing the pin back in to seal it, I double-checked the safety was on and then pressurized the chamber. Cobus had said three bars should be right for the distance, so pushing the tap forward I watched the gauge creep up to three. The relatively low pressure meant I’d be darting at a distance of less than 10 metres.

By the time I’d got myself set, the zebras, having followed the exact path Jacques had predicted, were now in the open field. Jacques hung back to let them momentarily settle and regroup.

‘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.

‘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.’

Now familiar with the routine, I found I had loaded the dart before I had consciously registered what I was doing, my mind playing through the scenario that was about to unfold. I coached myself through my approach, desperate for another successful shot.

Into the thick brush they went, and with Jacques in pursuit they didn’t hang about, emerging out the other side about thirty seconds later. They opted to carry on seeking shelter back where our pursuit had started.

‘It looks like he’s second from the back. Are you ready? You’ve got about 100 metres before they head left, and then they’ll start heading into the trees again.’

‘All set.’ I was already in position and as Jacques identified my target I zeroed in on it through the scope. They were moving at a pace, but Jacques was matching them. This area was actually so open and free of trees that he was able to bring the helicopter lower than before, coming in so close behind the last zebra that I had an almost horizontal shot lined up. If I aimed along the animal’s back, the angle was so acute the dart might bounce off, so I focused instead on the top of the back leg. I watched a couple of strides to confirm this was a consistent target and squeezed the trigger.

Time had felt suspended, but as the helicopter suddenly pulled up, and the zebra broke left, I realized I had taken the shot at the very last possible moment. But it didn’t matter: the dart’s pink feather was clearly visible in the middle of the zebra’s hamstring.

‘Good job! I think you’re starting to get the hang of it.’

With my job done, and Jacques’s praise ringing in my ears, the pressure was off. I could relax and fully soak up the experience. I felt the same elation I had after my first successful breach calving or first bitch spay as a new graduate, the glorious euphoria of knowing that I had faced down my apprehensions and come out the other side a better vet for it.

Zebras: fast facts

Equus quagga: The plains zebra

Distribution: East Africa, from south of Ethiopia down into Botswana and eastern South Africa. It is the most widespread of the 3 zebra species, and the commonest to find in game reserves and zoos. There are 6 sub-species.

Names: A male is called a ‘stallion’, a female is a ‘mare’, and the young a ‘foal’. A group of zebras is called a ‘dazzle’ or ‘zeal’.

Life span: 25–30 years.

Habitat: Treeless grasslands and savannah woodlands.

Diet: Zebras are herbivorous grazers, primarily eating a variety of grasses, but also known to eat shrubs, herbs, twigs, leaves and bark.

Gestation: 360–396 days, usually producing a single foal.

Weight: About 30 kg at birth, reaching an adult weight of 175–385 kg.

Growth: A newborn foal will stand within hours of being born, and starts to eat grass at 1 week, but is not fully weaned until 7–11 months. Young stallions will leave the herd to form a bachelor group when their mother has her next foal, but young mares will stay with the herd. Both sexes reach sexual maturity by about 20 months, but stallions won’t be strong enough to breed until about 5 years. They will be fully grown at about 4 years, but only 50 per cent of foals will reach adulthood because of predation, disease or starvation.

Body temperature: 37.6–38.6 °C.

Interesting fact: Embryological evidence suggests that zebras are black with white stripes, rather than, as was previously thought, white with black stripes. A number of hypotheses have been proposed to explain these markings, whether as camouflage, a visual cue for identifying each other, to deter flies or to help keep them cool. There is evidence to support all of these hypotheses, but the idea that the stripes help to confuse predators by making it more difficult to pick out one particular target in a mass of flickering stripes seems persuasive.

Conservation: The plains zebra global population is about 750,000, and as a result the IUCN classifies them as ‘near threatened’. Their uniquely attractive skin is the primary reason zebras have been excessively hunted, and habitat loss has also been a contributing factor in population declines. The plains zebra is fortunate in having benefited from numerous of its ranges becoming protected and as such its population remains stable and currently faces no major threat to its population. Sadly, the largest of the three zebra species, the Grévy’s zebra, found in Kenya and Ethiopia, is less fortunate: its population has suffered a 75 per cent decline since 1970 due to habitat loss, with an estimated 2,500 Grévy’s zebra left in the wild, which is why the IUCN classify them as ‘endangered’. See: www.awf.org/wildlife-conservation/grevys-zebra.