The zebra and their fingerprint of swirling stripes have long fascinated me. Their elegant form and striking coloration make them one of the most iconic and beguiling of African game species.

Three separate species of zebra inhabit sub-Saharan Africa, all are part of the equids family. The common plains zebra is the most geographically widespread and numerous of the species seen in most parts of Africa with a population totaling hundreds of thousands. The highly endangered Grevy’s zebra is found only in Ethiopia and Kenya, where it is believed there are less than 2,500 animals left living wild. The species that was of most interest to me was the indigenous mountain zebra. The mountain zebra is split into two subspecies, the Cape found only in South Africa and the Hartmann’s that lives in small numbers in Namibia and south-western Angola with a population numbering a few thousand.

When planning my hunting expedition to Namibia, knowing the Hartmann’s zebra is almost unique to that area of Africa had immense appeal. To experience something that was truly wild and not replicable in a stocked game farm in South Africa made me feel I was going to engage honestly with Namibia and thus would make my experience far more special.

I am not a trophy hunter per se, but at home in the UK, if I stumble across a handsome mature roebuck past his prime, I feel privileged to have the chance to take an animal that has done his bit for his species. I felt the same about the Hartmann’s zebra and hoped to take an old stallion that had passed on his genetics to many more future generations. Zebra have been anthropomorphised countless times in children’s fiction and are an emotive species to the public as their form loosely resembles that of a domestic horse. Knowing my hunt would be fair chase, part of a selective management plan and the spoils would enter the food chain was enough for me to feel comfortable about my chosen quarry species.

Further to researching an outfitter to hunt with in Namibia, I had been highly recommended the von Seydlitz family and their hunting lodge Schönfeld, near Omararu in western central Namibia. Schönfeld safaris hunt over 200,000 hectares of premier hunting ground that plays host to an abundance of carefully managed wild game. Schönfeld is one of the few family estates in Namibia still run by the family that emigrated there 100 years ago from Germany.

Namibia is four times the size of Great Britain and bursting with geographic diversity. There are mountains, wetlands, deserts, forests and everything in between. Second to Mongolia, it is the least densely populated country on earth meaning enormous amounts of space for animals and tremendous hunting opportunities. Namibia has a stable democracy and is a safe, friendly country. To that end, I have heard from many seasoned African hunters that Namibia is the ideal introduction to the continent, being such a straightforward and easy place to visit. I now wholeheartedly agree.

Namibia shares the same geographic longitude as Europe, so for me, heading south from the UK there is no time difference. With the pleasant absence of jet lag, my first morning at Schönfeld could not come quick enough — my excitement was child like. After a light breakfast and before the intense African sun got up, we headed to the range to check zero.

I decided on taking an inherently flat shooting caliber with enough ‘umph’ to take down a stocky mountain zebra. I needed the confidence to know if a follow up shot was required and at distance, I would not need to think too much hold over. The 7mm Remington Magnum was an obvious choice. Necked down from a .375 H&H to 7mm this would certainly fulfill my needs.

I had opted to use 139gr Hornady GMX Superformance lead-free ammunition. The minimal meat damage and terminal performance of the GMX in .308 cal on deer I had shot in the UK had previously impressed me. But how well would this polymer tipped copper alloy ammunition fare on a Hartmann’s zebra I wondered?

The 7mm spoke out and accurately spat two rounds of GMX at 3190fps into the black of the target. Two holes touching at 100 yards was all the rifle, scope and bullets needed to do. Proof enough for my Professional Hunter (PH) Stephan that we were in good shape to go hunting. Stephan is a fourth generation von Seydlitz and the son of the current owner Hartwig. He has hunted all of his life and grew up on the estate.

Hunting in Namibia at first light was familiar to me as a typical walk and stalk situation. However, the environment could not have been more different than anything I had hunted in before. The hunting ground I manage in Scotland had endured one of the wettest winters on record. To that end, the arid parched brush in Namibia offered a welcome respite to the thick damp peat I had battled with to get my cull quota of deer.

We were dropped off from the truck with our tracker Erassi who stalked us through some open areas he knows many species like to feed over at first light. The ground was beautiful but was hostile. Barbed wire like spines and spikes protruded from every plant and bush. The animals, as predicted, were plentiful but in an environment where the rules really are ‘survival of the fittest’, they did not stand for long as soon as they were aware of our presence.

Oryx, impala, kudu, hartebeest, wildebeest. Every single animal I saw that morning was in superb physical condition. All the creatures we saw looked as powerful and defined as Thoroughbred racehorses. This was another clear reminder to me that this ecosystem operates with active predation. If you lag behind, you are a meal for something else. It is that simple. The area we were hunting in apparently accommodated no less than 27 huntable species. That made the six native species of deer in the UK seem modest by comparison.

Having drawn a blank on the mountain zebra at first light, by mid-morning, it was time to spot and stalk using the vehicle to move us from location to location. This is something I was less keen to do, but with so much ground to cover, it was the only option. My African nightmare is the vision of an overweight hunter being driven to his chosen quarry to simply shoot from the vehicle. I will not castigate anyone who wishes to hunt in this way and as long as an animal is being humanely dispatched then who am I to judge but I just know, it is not for me.

Using the Toyota Landcruiser as a mobile observation platform, we headed towards some higher more mountainous areas favored by Hartmann’s zebra. On the way, we stopped at every high point and valley to use the contours to try and leer under the low tree canopies to catch sight of animals taking respite in the shade from the midday sun. The extra elevation given to us by the vehicle was a huge advantage but I was itching to get back on my feet and into the brush.

The shadows started getting longer and after a few hours glassing, Erassi, our eagle-eyed tracker, spotted a small group of mountain zebra under some thorn bushes. They were roughly a mile away. From this distance he identified the stallion standing slightly away from the group. He and Stephan then plotted in Afrikaans. Stephan quickly explained that Erassi thought they might have seen us come over the crest of the hill but were at a much lower elevation than they usually are in this region so this was a golden opportunity. The hunt was on.

The plan was to leave the vehicle and circle the group in a huge bow shape. If the equines had seen us, they might think we had gone in a different direction and stay settled. The brash was far thicker and more brutal than we had experienced in the morning. After an hour, my internal compass, a much more rudimentary version than Stephan and Erassi’s, told me that we must be closing in. Moving quietly was hard, the stones and rocks under foot crunched and every branch noisily clawed at our clothes. This was going to be a delicate and slow chess move requiring patience and a large amount of luck.

Half an hour passed and our slow progress had taken us to the edge of a sculpted bowl in the hillside. Erassi gleefully pointed into the brash on the other side and amazingly we were right on target, exactly where the group was. We heard the hollow sound of zebras hoof banging and scraping on the ground signaling that one of them had sensed something was awry. The three of us knew, there would be little time left before these jumpy creatures took flight. I could just see a coarse long black horse like tail flicking in the maze of thorns without a clear shot. Erassi assured me with pantomime like gestures that this was the stallion and who was I to challenge him, it being his back yard. I came up to the sticks with my rifle and waited, heart pounding.

The stallion started to move away, it had enough of feeling uneasy. I knew it was about to take flight. A broadside shot exposed itself for a split second, which was all I needed to confidently ask the rifle, scope and ammo to come together. The sight picture of the Leica Magnus 1.5–10x42 scope in the low contrast area of the brash was phenomenal. I could clearly make out where the front shoulder and in a reflex action I tucked the illuminated crosshair close behind it. The shot sounded out across the African vista and I could clearly see through the scope I had connected hard with this black and white beast.

After a few moments of discussion about where we thought the animals had run to, we walked quietly to the bullet strike area to find a reassuring amount of hearty evidence. Lying less than 100 yards away after an obvious blood trail was the old Hartmann’s stallion, an overwhelming sight. The shot had entered perfectly behind the front shoulder passed both lungs and exited the slightly quartered animal at the back of the rib cage on the offside, conclusive proof that the Hornady GMX ammunition was a good choice.

As we looked over this incredible creature, Stephan explained the most obvious way to tell the difference between plains and a mountain zebra. The mountain zebra has solid stripes while plains zebra, seen more on the grasslands, has additional faint stripes superimposed on the white referred to as shadow stripes. On closer observation, I could see that the Hartmann’s zebra stripes don’t join on its stomach giving it a characteristic white belly and also continue down to its hooves. The plains zebra stripes extend all the way to its underside and often fade towards its hooves. There are two more obvious differences. Hartmann’s zebra has a grid-iron pattern across the top of its rump and a prominent dewlap or Adam’s apple on its throat which are unique to the species. I was delighted to have cleanly taken this handsome animal and with such a dramatic finale.

Without exaggeration, the next task was the herculean mother and father of all extractions. A team of workers from the lodge was called to travel the hour to where the zebra lay. The tireless team cleaved a way through the brush with some heavy-duty forestry clearance. Once a path was cleared, the truck weaved its way through the maze of axed stumps to where the fallen black and white creature fell. The Toyota’s winch then strained to haul this substantial 350kg zebra onboard. Finally, after a few dusty and sweaty hours the beast was loaded and we headed back to the lodge in the warm evening gloom. The satisfaction of a job well done was indescribable. A few nights later we had the pleasure of eating the zebra’s fillets braised on an open fire griddle. With a decent glass of red this made for some of the most memorable game meat I have ever eaten.

I was lucky enough to spend a few more days hunting with Stephan and Erassi at Schönfeld. However, for the rest of the trip I had a nagging question running around my head unanswered — are zebra white with black stripes or black with white?