A week ago today, as the sun dropped below the skyline, the old bull we were after finally stepped into the open. He had a mouth full of food and he didn’t like us interrupting his supper. As he dropped his head and glared at us from 35 yards, I placed a 500 grain Barnes TSX just below his chin at the top of his throat.
The bullet pushed it’s way down his windpipe, through his lungs and lodged a foot behind his shoulder blades just next to his spine. He ran 100 yards and fell dead.
The CZ 550 in .458 Lott held a total of six cartridges. I unloaded five and put the single piece of spent brass in a second pocket. I’d had a close encounter with this bull the day before and he made us earn this hunt. It was perfect.
