With its low velocity, the old 9.3x74R has a mild report, and even at short distance it has a noticeably longer flight time than a fast magnum. In other words, we heard the bullet hit with a resounding thwack, and as that sound reached us the bull didn't just drop in his tracks, he was thrown to the ground by the impact.

When you mess up, one of the hardest parts is taking it with grace and avoiding making your campmates miserable. Neither daughter Brittany nor girlfriend Donna messed up, which didn't make it any easier for the author to keep smiling...

The kudu lay perfectly still, so Dirk and I dashed forward. This was a first mistake, albeit a natural one since the animal was out of sight behind the thorn. We made our second mistake when he got up. I had the single shot reloaded, and I was bringing up the rifle, fully aware that I absolutely had to get another one in him. Dirk was equally aware and, out of habit from long years as a professional hunter, put up the sticks…just in time to push my rifle barrel out of the way. By the time we unsnarled ourselves the kudu's rump had disappeared over the thorn.

We ran after him, but there were other kudu bulls running and it was getting dark very fast. The trackers, coming up fast behind us, had already found plenty of blood. We could have followed in the dark, and we even had a blood-trailing Jack Russell to help. But it was a kudu. Kudu don't go very far when hit, and there were lots of other kudu out there. It would drop to nearly freezing within an hour, so the meat would be fine. We called it a night, confident we would find him in the morning. I didn't feel good about leaving an animal in the bush, but I still felt OK about the shot and I wasn't unduly worried. I think I said something like, "After all, it's a kudu. Nobody ever loses a kudu."

In good morning light we found the trail easily, enough blood that the trackers could run on it, at least for a while. Unlike any kudu that I, Dirk or his great tracker, David, have ever seen, this kudu ran straight as a string for at least two miles, and when he stopped running the blood stopped almost immediately. We gave up the spoor about 10 a.m., then spent the rest of the day covering ground in ever-widening circles. No further trace of that kudu was ever seen.

What happened? Well, almost certainly I hit the bull too high, probably through the hump on top of the spine. This, of course, is a great risk on any spine shot. The bullet may hit dorsal projections on the spine or simply come close enough to temporarily knock out the animal.

If you allow him to get up and move off without shooting again, such a shot will almost always result in a lost animal, but unless infection sets in recovery is almost certain. The signs were clear; when any animal is pole-axed you should suspect a spinal hit, intentional or not, but the immediate reaction to a near-miss to the spine is exactly the same as a solid hit. So you must approach the animal quickly, but, more important, you must remain clear enough and ready enough to shoot again at the slightest movement.