Full Circle — My First Zebra in Namibia
Two years ago, a missed zebra shot tested me in ways I wasn’t prepared for. In Namibia, with my own rifle in hand, I finally had the chance to make it right. This is the story of my first zebra — and the lessons that brought me full circle.
Looking Back: South Africa, Two Years Ago
Two years ago, I found myself behind a hunting rifle for the first time. I had traveled solo to South Africa for an international bird hunting trip: ducks, geese, and upland birds across three provinces. Picking up a rifle wasn’t part of the plan. After some shots at the range I felt confident enough to try for a Nyala, one of South Africa’s spiral-horned antelopes.
When the Nyala presented itself, I took a clean shot and it expired quickly. Relief and pride washed over me. For a first big game experience, it couldn’t have gone better.
The very next day, I decided to go after a zebra. That’s when things changed. On my first shot, I flinched at the trigger. The bullet sailed under her belly and struck her left front knee. My journal entry says it best: “She was hit but didn’t really run as I broke her leg. Some of the herd stayed close… surrounding her, so we got out of the truck to get closer for a follow-up shot.” My heart pounded as guilt sank in. Both my PH and Ramsey, who was with me, spoke at once, and I snapped that I couldn’t focus. On the second shot, she dropped, and it was over.
Relief and sadness collided. I thanked God for her, then stood for photos, trying to keep myself composed. But as the trackers loaded her into the truck, something strange happened. Three zebras came back — one about her size, maybe a little smaller, and two even younger.
It’s not common for a herd to return after a hunt. Most outfitters and PHs I’ve spoken to since have said they’d never seen anything like it. Yet there they were, no more than 15 yards away, watching. Tears ran down my face as they drew closer. I whispered, “I’m so sorry,” over and over, convinced I’d taken their mother away.
That abnormal return made the moment even heavier. It turned an already emotional experience into something I will never forget.
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Namibia: My First Plains Game with My Rifle
Fast forward nearly two years. I was back in Africa, this time in Namibia, on a safari package I had won at Safari Club International. The target list had options, but on Day 2 of the hunt, fate presented me with zebra again.
It was past lunch and we were headed to camp when one of the trackers spotted three Hartmann’s zebras high on a rocky hill. My heart raced. Of course, the first animal in Namibia would be a zebra. Memories of South Africa flashed back, but so did the hours of practice I’d put in with my first rifle, the Q Fix in 8.6 Blackout. I knew this time I was ready.
My PH estimated the range at 120 yards. The rangefinder confirmed 115. I got on the sticks, picked out the zebra, and settled my reticle. Before nerves could creep in, I exhaled and squeezed. The shot was solid. She bolted 15–20 yards, then to everyone’s surprise, flipped forward off the rocks and came to rest. My PH had never seen a zebra do that before.
We climbed the hill, excitement replacing nerves. No tears this time — only gratitude. I prayed over her, thankful for the experience and the redemption of a clean, ethical shot. Roelof, my PH, grinned and said, “Bloody good job, madam. Perfect shot, eh. You put it exactly where we said.”
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What This Hunt Means to Me
That moment meant everything.
Taking a zebra in Namibia wasn’t just another check mark on a list. It was redemption. It was growth. Proof that the hardest lessons shape us into better hunters.
Two years ago, I shot my first big game animal: a nyala.
The next day, August 9, 2023, I experienced one of the hardest hunts of my life with a zebra.
And two years later, almost to the date — August 10, 2025 — my first animal in Namibia, with my own rifle, was a zebra.
Full circle.
This hunt reminded me that the journey matters as much as the outcome. Hunting will always bring highs and lows, clean kills and hard lessons. It’s those moments together that make us who we are in the field.
Words can only tell part of the story. Here’s a short reel from Namibia that captures the experience:
What happens next
This isn’t just a trophy. Hunting in Africa, nothing goes to waste. That’s Conservation.
What’s unique about Namibia is how concessions and the Conservancy works to collect the meat and distribute locally to villages.
Below is a photo of the zebra meat loaded in the game guard’s truck. I’ll be sharing more soon about how that process works and the role it plays in conservation. Stay tuned for that post — it’s an important part of the story.
Follow along
If this story resonated with you, check out my raw South Africa zebra journal entry from 2023 — the experience that set the stage for this full circle moment.
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Be in the know for when I share my next blog post about Namibia and this incredibly safari journey! You won’t want to miss it.
Raw Reflections: My First Zebra Hunt in South Africa
A raw, unedited journal entry from my first zebra hunt in South Africa — the day that tested me, broke me, and forever changed how I approach hunting.
Looking Back — An Emotional Hunt
This is my journal entry that I wrote on August 9, 2023 shortly after an intense and emotional zebra hunting experience in South Africa.
To set the stage, I had visited South Africa to hunt birds — ducks, geese, and upland birds. The intention to seek big game was never in my mind as I had never been a rifle hunter, only having been hunting for ~4 years.
The day before I had my first hunt for big game and was successful at a clean, ethical shot at a nyala — a striking, spiral-horned antelope. For my first time on a big game animal, it couldn’t have gone better. Filled with pride and excitement, I decided to target a second animal, a zebra. This hunt gave me a much different experience, both difficult and emotional.
This is my journal entry, written as it was, no editing, just pure post-experience:
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Day 8 — Zebra.
I had a tough time mentally on today’s hunt. Before the hunt I was questioning myself if I really wanted to hunt a zebra. I had always said, “no, I haven’t been interested in big game.” Or “comfortable shooting something I have a connection to.”
After seeing Ramsey’s zebra yesterday I didn’t really feel a connection as the zebra laid there in the truck. I felt the zebra on her head, touched her muzzle, and didn’t feel sadness. She was beautiful and in the moment I wanted my own zebra experience.
Initially I thought we were going to hunt ducks today and would have an opportunity on Thursday for a zebra so if I changed my mind, I had a day to think it over. Well last night Clayton, the owner/guide, said that if I really wanted the zebra it would be best to try in the morning, as he could only take 2 people for their pygmy goose at a time.
The decision to hunt zebra was made in that moment. And then over the morning I still felt a sense of unease and nervousness. Maybe I should have backed out and changed my mind but I didn’t.
We go to the game reserve and within 90 minutes we already found a herd of zebras. “G man” was the name of our game reserve tracker. He pointed to the lead zebra on the far left that he was a male, although you are able to shoot female zebras on this land.
As I looked at it in the rifle scope it was a lot more white with less prominent black stripes. The zebra to the right of it, standing in the middle, was darker with its zebra stripes. G-man gave me the okay on it and I lined up the rifle placement.
When I took the shot I think I flinched a bit because I ended shooting low and hit her leg. This first shot was about 100 yards. She was hit but she didn’t really run as I broke her leg. The herd stayed close and she was limping. We waited in the truck to try to get another shot but the herd was surrounding her and they were walking away slowly.
We got out of the truck to get closer for another shot. Reached about 50 yards. Both Ramsey & Sebastian were talking to me, my heart racing, adrenaline pumping because of my initial shot not being what I had wanted.
I yelled, “y’all are both talking to me! I can’t focus!” Or something like, “stop talking to me, I can’t concentrate.” Sebastian said, “listen to me.” He told me where to place the second shot. Lined it up again, deep breath and a pull of the trigger. She drops. It was over.
Emotions came over me and I began to cry. Tears of relief, excitement in a way but also sadness. Mostly because I didn’t have a good first shot, I hurt her and added pain to the experience.
As we were walking up, there were 3 zebras that stayed close by and didn’t immediately run off. Able to collect myself we took pictures with her and of her. I felt her all over, touching her head and body. These animals are gorgeous with their coloring and the pattern that makes her a zebra.
As the group began to load her in the truck her family herd returned. I wish they hadn’t. Maybe seeing them was my punishment for what I had done.
They came pretty close and watched. I could only imagine what they were thinking. Do animals even think? Surely they do. You can see the love in animals and so my head was racing with thoughts.
“You took their mom from them.”
There were 3 total: 1 smaller male, not sure if he was “dad” and then 2 smaller zebras, 1 smaller than the other. As they looked at me, I just kept saying in my head, “I’m sorry” as the emotions of sadness, confusion, and a realness of the situation unfolded.
I hated that they stood there. As my tears welled up in my eyes and I was crying thinking of them. Am I even a hunter? Does it make me a better hunter because I feel this way? Less of a hunter?
I’ve always tried to respect the resource. Even with birds, when I first started hunting, I would wing a dove and that little dove would look at me with its eyes and I’d feel a sense of grief, as I was going to take its life right there. I would always say to myself, “thank you Lord,” and then dispatch the bird. In the same sense, I had these intense emotions about taking the life of this zebra and removing it from its family.
Why don’t I feel this way about the nyala? Is it because I had no connection to that species? Is it because I don’t look at that game animal in the same way? Or was it the fact the family remained around?
It was as if they returned to see if she was alive or maybe they know and it was them saying goodbye. Whatever it was, it wasn’t easy.
If you’ve read this far, you know how heavy this day was for me. Years later, I had the chance to come full circle on another zebra hunt in Namibia. You can read that story here.