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Well, yesterday afternoon as we drove along a station track, we spied a pair of donkeys moving through the light savannah scrubland quite a distance ahead. We stopped the Toyota, and I uncased my rifle, slipped in the bolt and loaded the magazine and my pockets. The wind was just right, steady in my face, and I began a stalk straight toward where we'd last seen them. They were steadily moving away, and it took some time before I spotted them again. I was hunched right over, and moving as fast as I could to catch-up to them. The grass was about waist-high for the most part, providing some good cover. They weren't stopping, so I was quite puffed by the time I was about seventy yards behind the trailing donkey, a smaller Jenny. She was cutting across nearly side-on at this stage, following the Jack. I crouched down, steadying the rifle against a tree, waiting for her to clear some timber. As she came into my chosen zone of fire, I settled the sight on her chest and squeezed-off. She whirled around, and another Woodleigh 410 grain RN/SN projectile hit her with a puff of grey dust. After that, I had no idea where she was. She'd just disappeared. The Jack had meanwhile turned and galloped back toward the Jenny, spooked by the noise but unaware of my location. As he went past, at only about 45 metres, I hit him through both shoulders, which broke them both and dropped him on the spot. I quickly jogged-up, and put another through his heart - I felt that fourth firing on my shoulder! Not too far away lay the dead Jenny. After that, we walked a creek, where my mate managed to shoot a sow with his .308. It was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon and evening, although I nearly choked on dust - I must've got a throat-full somewhere in the shooting. By the way, for those unfamiliar with our feral donkey situation - they are descendants of the African Wild Asses brought over to carry stuff around the interior before motor vehicles were invented, and then let loose. There are an estimated 5-million of these destructive beasts roaming our beautiful-though-fragile Outback (actually, 4,999,998 now).

Here's the Jenny:

Here's the Jack:

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