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It was the fall of 1971 and I was hunting in Africa for the first time. We were on the lower slopes of Mount Kenya, just outside the boundry of the Aberdares National Park. One of the rhinos in the park had found a way to cross the game ditch which separated the Park from private land and had been amusing himself chasing cattle and cattle herders, until the owner had had enough and asked the Game Department to intervene. When we learned of this situation, we volunteered to take care of it for the Game Department.

Early morning found us at the game ditch looking at the site where the rhino was crossing. One of the herders had come with us to show us the way. He and the two gun bearers and the tracker departed down hill to see if they could locate our quarry. They came back shaking their heads. They had found the rhino, but the cattle herder had spoiled everything (they thought) by yelling and throwing rocks at the rhino.

We followed them back down the slope and after a short walk there suddenly erumpted this huge creature in front of us and took off down the slope. I was walking behind the tracker and one of the gunbearers, and they were direcltly in the way, so I couldn't shoot.

We continued on, hearing the rhino crashing through the brush until eventually we came to a clearing and inexplicably lost the trail. The tracker, PH and gun bearers fanned out looking for the lost footprints, when suddenly the PH snapped his fingers, indicating that he had located them. About that time, from behind us, up the slope, there came a moise like a steam locomotive releasing steam, and when I turned to see what was happening, I saw our rhino charging down the slope toward the sound of the finger snapping.

He was due to pass within about 20 yards of me, but evidently didn't see me, so I released the safety on my rifle and swung on him like I would a Station 4 skeet shot. I fired and he immediattely executed a 180 degree turn and started back up the slope and I shot twice more, emptying my magazine.

I quickly reloaded and managed to get one more shot into him as he disappeared into the undergrowth. We all stood looking at one another tacitly expressing "What next?", when a low moan from the direction our quarry had fled came to our ears and we all relaxed and grinned at one another. We walked up the slope and found our quarry lying in a clearing with his back to us, evidently stone dead, but to be sure, I added two more bullets to the four I had already shot into the carcass.

The PH had fired both barrels of his .470 NE double rifle as the rhino was retreating. One shot grazed the horn and did (thank goodness) little damage. The other one keyholed into the rhino's left buttock. My final shot had hit the right buttock, but had not penetrated very far.

My first shot had hit the rhino in the neck and had exited on the opposite side without hitting anything vital. I was aiming for the shoulder, but the PH said that just before I shot the rhino must have caught a glimpse of me and put on the brakes, causing me to miss what i was aiming at. The other two shots were closely spaced and right in the shoulder. The 570 grain Kynoch solids I was using in my rifle had not exited, but they had done the job.

As you can see from the photo, I was one happy camper.

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