I can relate to many of the comments here. When I first went to Africa, I had no intention or desire to shoot a zebra. The moment I saw one, however, all that changed. I realized while looking at this beast, that this was AFRICA. As much, or more, than any other animal, the zebra typified the reason I came there to hunt.
One late afternoon, I was in an elevated stand at a water hole. Several zebras came in to 60-70 yards, and just stood there. It was cool, and I was wearing a bush jacket. I shifted my bow slightly, and one of my feathers made contact with the sleeve. That bunch of zebras reacted like I had thrown a grenade at them. In seconds, I was all alone with a huge cloud of dust.
Murray