Just a Giraffe

Hunters Gallery
Just a Giraffe, I Guess!
By Tom Murphy
Three young giraffe stopped to stare at the loud, noisy thing with people in it. This is a fairly unusual photo as usually the giraffe will be almost out
of sight before you can get your camera up. I don’t think these three had ever seen a hunting truck before.
Tall? I’ll give you tall! The nearby trees were 10-15 feet high and his head and
half his neck cleared the uppermost branches. I was impressed. I was also a scosh
nervous as I am only 5’-10” and he looked to outweigh me by at least 1800lbs. Plus,
I didn’t even have a rifle, just a handgun. And it was only a five-shot. ‘Course it was
a Smith & Wesson 500 Magnum, but still…
W
hat was to happen next was that me and the giraffe
were going to get a lot closer, then see what the Smith
&Wesson could do. It was full of Hornady’s 500 grain
XTP rounds that left the muzzle at 1425 fps and packed over 2200
ft-lbs of energy. A lot of power for a handgun, yes. But to take
down an animal that stands over 18 feet tall and go a ton meant
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that the shot would have to be under seventy-five yards to really
be effective. At that range, the bullet would be travelling at 1220
fps and carrying near 1800 ft-lb of energy. Maybe I should have
brought my Ruger .458 Mag? Oh well, no one ever said I did things
the smart way.
My brother Sean, my nephew PJ and I were in South Africa
African Hunter Vol. 14 No. 5
on a plains game hunt in June of 2006. We
were up in the Northern Province on the
Limpopo river hunting with Dumukwa
Safaris (www.dumukwa.com) when all
this silliness happened. Those two had
already hunted kudu, zebra, impala and
gemsbuck while I took photos. I hadn’t
figured on shooting anything until we went
to Zimbabwe where I planned to reduce the
Cape buffalo population by one. The idea
of hunting something as big as a giraffe
didn’t even cross my mind
until the third day of the hunt
when we were driving around
checking tracks.
We rounded a corner, so
to speak, and there were three
giraffe standing not forty yards
in front of us. I don’t know who
was more surprised, us, or the
12-ft tall mammals off our right
bumper? I know my mouth hung
open. This was the first time
I’d seen a giraffe without bars
and a zoo employee nearby. We
They are called “wait-a-bit” thorns with good reason. Walk into the bush and they will slide into
shot photos, then sat while they
you like a #28 hypodermic needle. Try to back out and they hold you like an aggravated pit bull.
slowly wandered off.
The holes they leave only take 2-3 weeks to heal, though.
I asked my PH, Peter, if
Right! If I slept more than two hours that night …
giraffe had ever been seriously hunted. I know they
By five the next morning we were on our way to a ranch fifteen
aren’t in any record books, at least not in the Safari Club
miles away. We had to check in with the owner before going after the
International book, so there’s no set standard to judge
giraffe, so we didn’t really get into the hunting area until sometime
one by. I just knew that I wanted one, but wasn’t totally
after six. We had two trucks with radios. One went north, the other
sure about using a handgun to take it.
south. The ranch covered slightly over 12 000 acres (18.75 sq.
“Tom,” said Peter. “These three are much too young
miles) which made for a lot of hunting as the giraffe was free to
and small, but I think I know of an area that has a very old,
roam the entire area.
very tall giraffe, so old he’s chocolate brown and black.
Some people decry South African ranch hunts as “canned”
Oh, and he’s at least five feet taller than the three we just
hunts. Come hunting with me on that day and you’d have gained a
saw. If you’re interested I could make a call or two.”
different outlook. You’d think that an animal taller than almost all
“Sure!” I made up my mind that second. A chance
the trees around would be easy to see, but that definitely was not
to take a 17-foot tall giraffe with my handgun sounded
the case. The brush was so thick that vision at eye level was less
very interesting, to say the least.
“Ok, I’ll call the other ranch
and we’ll know by tonight.”
Did I REALLY want to use
a handgun on an animal that
weighed in at 2000+ pounds?
Yes!
That night we relaxed
around the lodge while some
phone calls were made. I was
getting more nervous by the hour. I wasn’t
worried about the gun’s stopping power
so much as my abilities. The gun would
be ok. I’d already seen what it could do. I
had shot a 235lb feral pig with the .500 a
few months back. The 500 grain soft-point
entered on the left shoulder, exited on the
right, leaving a fifty-cent size hole, and
went zinging off into the brush. I actually
saw the slug ricochet off a boulder some
yards behind the pig. He travelled exactly
zero feet. The gun? No problem. Me? Good
question.
Around eight thirty Peter came over
to where I was sitting in front of the
campfire.
“Tom, you better head for bed. You’re
going giraffe hunting in the morning.”
This gives you an idea of the relative size of an old adult giraffe. I’m not small, but he’s immense.
Off I went to a good night’s sleep.
We could only estimate his weight as 2000+ pounds.
African Hunter Vol. 14 No. 5
Page 49
than fifty yards in front of us. I still didn’t see him
until Peter pointed up… and up… and up some more.
The giraffe’s head towered above the surrounding
trees. Impressive? Nothing like a head the size of
a human torso looking down at you to make you
understand real humility.
I don’t know exactly how smart a giraffe is, but
this one was smart enough to execute a right face and
exit the area. He was amazing to watch. His body
rocked back and forth like a spotted pendulum as
he took three strides and was out of sight. Now we
had to move, and fast. Well, I’m not built like any
professional hunter you’ve ever met. My running
days are long over, and a fondness for spirits of an
alcoholic sort have ensured that I stay firmly attached
to the ground, which meant two trackers went after
the animal and Peter and the rest of us went back to
the trucks.
Following an animal that was taller than all the
nearby trees shouldn’t be too hard, should it? Well...
my last name’s Murphy, y’know. Two very tough
This photo isn’t real clear as it was pulled off a video, but it does give an idea as to the
hours shuffled off the clock while we played “chasemuzzle blast and flash of the S&W .500 Magnum. The kick is also interesting.
the-giraffe.” He’d run three to four hundred yards,
then stop and watch us close to a hundred-and-fifty
yards. Then it was off again for another three hundred and play the
than fifty feet. Above that, trees were everywhere. Plus, the ‘waitgame again. It rapidly dawned on us that chasing just wasn’t going
a-bit’ thorns went through my hunting shirt and into my epidermis
to work, and sneaking up by foot on something that could watch us
like a #28 hypodermic needle. We were a couple of hours into the
coming probably wasn’t going to work either.
hunt and had seen nothing when the radio blasted. The other truck
We split up. Myself, Peter and one tracker would take the truck
had spotted him! He was about four miles behind us. Time to do
and try to get in front of the giraffe while the others would push
a 180 and go!
him towards us.
It took about thirty minutes to hook up with the other hunting
We took off on a tangent and extended out approximately onerig. We left the trucks and headed into the bush to try to run down
half mile before cutting back to intercept the giraffe’s line of travel.
the giraffe. I was looking in front of me and seeing only bush.
He’d been leading us in large counterclockwise circles so we hung
Only later did I realize that should I actually see the animal, all
off to one side and hoped we could cut him off.
that would be in view would be his knees. Lucky for me, Peter had
We neither heard or saw him approach. One second there were
a much better grasp of the situation and a quick grab of my shirt
three humans looking around; next second a giraffe is looking at
brought me to a halt.
us looking for him. I, being cool of demeanor and a true, ice-cold
Lord love a duck! The giraffe was off to the left and no more
On the left is the Hornady 500gr - .500 Magnum round. The second from left is a 500gr slug recovered from sand after passing through a warthog
– almost a perfect mushroom. The copper jacket and lead pieces on the right were recovered from the neck shot on the giraffe. The bullet came
apart when it hit a neck vertebrae. The two recovered lead pieces weighed 407gr, the jacket weighed 80gr, for a total of 487gr out of 500. The
bullet did its job.
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African Hunter Vol. 14 No. 5
professional, didn’t jump more than 1-2 feet straight up. And, of
course, my heart beat stayed at a low rate (yeah, sure).
Deep breath time. My revolver was still in my shoulder holster
and I had my hat in my right hand. I started to put on the hat, pull
out the gun, check that the AimPoint was turned on, turn to face
the animal, take a deep breath, lift the revolver, check the AimPoint
again and … Well, you get the picture. I accomplished about none
of these before the massive head turned and was gone again.
We took off after him, but instead of heading in his direction,
we worked inside the circle we thought he’d take. We heard him
move along about 125 yards out. Then everything got quiet.
“He’s stopped to search for us,” whispered Peter. “Go left, but
go slowly; very slowly. Let’s get where he can’t spot us.” We slid
from one small tree to the next, one quiet step at a time. Peter told
me later that the giraffe would wait until it saw us before moving
out again, and that if we could blind side him, we stood a good
chance of getting a shot.
So we crept and stopped, crept and stopped. Then Peter
froze. There was a small clearing in front of us and the giraffe
was standing right at the far edge. He hadn’t seen us, but was
looking in the general direction. Peter’s hand left bruises on my
forearm as he pulled me forward. This was where we would have
to shoot. Estimated distance? Minimum 125 yards. Much too far
for a handgun.
This is the place where normally the intrepid writer/hunter
usually goes off on a tangent to talk about his gun, the type of animal,
the terrain, or some such, leaving the reader wondering what the…?
However, I was way too wound up to digress, so let’s continue.
Well, we waited. I had a good sight picture, but still too bloody
far away. Then the giraffe’s head turned and he looked behind him.
He must have heard the other truck. He took a tentative step, then
another. Then he began walking on an oblique angle that would
have him pass about 60 yards in front of us – no closer.
I took a good rest on a tree branch and waited. There wasn’t
I’m going to have the mount made up this way. If I mounted the entire
animal, its head would stick six feet above my roof!
My Smith & Wesson came from the Performance Centre. It has a 10.5 inch barrel and with a full underlug barrel weighs 82 ounces and is 18
inches long. I carried it in a cross-draw holster. Actually, it spent most of its time laying on the seat of the safari truck. Five plus pounds becomes a
lot of weight by five in the evening when you strapped it on at four in the morning.
African Hunter Vol. 14 No. 5
Page 51
Hunting Tip - Giraffe are
easily overlooked even at
close proximity, because of
their exceptional camouflage
and height relative to
surrounding bush. Become
conditioned to looking
above foliage, not into it.
Old “stink-bulls” emit an
offensive odour.
going to be a lot of time for a shot, however the animal wasn’t
moving very fast and I thought I could take him.
“BOOM! A 500 grain slug headed downrange. It hit the giraffe
right behind the shoulder and, as we later found out, just pierced
the top of his left lung. He gave a great lunge forward, stumbled
and spun in a circle heading back from where he came.
I tapped off two more, and missed with both.
He spun back around and ran towards us.
I let go a fourth shot.
We caught it on video entering the base of his neck.
He laid his head down and turned away from us into the bush,
moving fast.
Gone!
Out of sight!
“Your first shot took him high in the chest. Might have got a
lung,” breathed Peter. “The next two shots did a good job of hitting
trees. Your fourth shot looked like it whacked him hard. When he
lowered his head, I thought he was done.”
I looked over at him as I
pumped four fresh rounds into
the cylinder. “Yeah, I thought so
too.”
“He might go down still.”
“That would be nice, but
I better plan on some more
shooting.”
We drove for at least five
hours (Peter said more like five
minutes, but you know how those
PH guys exaggerate). We crossed
a very small open area. I saw him.
Only the top five feet of neck and
head were visible.
“Stop!” I raised the S&W and
pointed with the barrel. “He’s right
over there.”
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No more than 50 yards separated us from him, and he was
facing me. I bailed out of the truck and moved back to a small stand
of trees. There was a horizontal branch that would support the gun.
The giraffe was watching the truck, not me. I eased the hammer
back and put the red dot two feet below his jaw. I put pressure on
the trigger.
Again, BOOM!
I couldn’t see the impact, but the giraffe dropped from sight
as if his strings were cut.
We approached. He was facing away from me, and the only
sign of life was a slightly twitching left leg. That soon stopped and
Peter touched his eye with the barrel of his .404 Jeffery. The hunt
was over. The 500 grain bullet had entered the neck just to the right
of centre. We later recovered the bullet in pieces and saw where a
major chunk had shattered the spine while a small piece of jacket
had cut the jugular in half. Neither of the other two bullets were
recovered.
How did I feel at the moment? I’d like to have an easy answer,
but there isn’t one. I felt good that I had taken the animal, sad
because his life was ended, but overall, just a sense of wonderment
at the size of the giraffe. When we got it to the skinning shed, via
a tractor and 15-foot trailer, the head skinner estimated its height
between 18 feet and 18 feet, six inches. The only way they could
set it up for skinning was by using a two-ton electric hoist. This
was a big animal. Also an old one. His tail hairs had turned almost
translucent and his teeth were worn down. Peter said he wouldn’t
have lasted very much longer and when he fell, the hyenas would
eat him while alive. It would take days for him to die. Better that
he went this way.
The meat would be left with the rancher and used to feed his
workers, or dried and kept as biltong (jerky). I was offered a small
steak (two feet by as long as I wanted), but declined when told it
might be a tad tough and more than gamey. I’ll stick with cow,
thank you.
It will take 3-4 months for the hide to clear customs and show
up at home in Nevada. I plan on a neck-up mount, about eight feet
tall. My front room has a12-ft ceiling, and there’s a nice corner
behind the couch currently occupied by two goldfish where he will
fit just fine. He’ll be looking over guest’s shoulders, but they’ll get
used to it – I hope.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tom Murphy lives in the high desert of northern Nevada. He
has hunted in South Africa, Botswana, and Zimbabwe for plains
game, Cape buffalo, elephant and the mighty warthog. He writes
on hunting, guns - both civilian and military, aeroplanes, HarleyDavidson motorcycles, and car racing.
African Hunter Vol. 14 No. 5