A lot depends on the bullets too. I've seen a .458 Lott absolutely unimpress a wounded water buffalo, because the solids didn't hit the central nervous system.
Bullets are definitely important!
And caliber. Guess he should have been using some sort of "AI" round...
Against the preceding quiet, the .375 H&H went off like an artillery piece. It acted like one, too. The bull dropped as though his legs had turned to pool noodles.
I cycled, hard, and reacquired. The grass was tall enough that there wasn’t a shot at the downed bull, but Atlantic City wasn’t taking any odds on what his two friends were going to think about this. Indeed, there’s plenty of precedent for buff acting like the Gotti family when one of their own gets whacked. I remained acutely aware that a buff with a purpose can cover 15 yards a second, and we were at most 40 yards from them.
To my happy amazement, they didn’t seem to think much of anything. They looked languidly around.
But not so the downed bull. He sprang back up like a toaster Pop-Tart. Before he could convert that rally into something more directed, I whacked him again, in pretty close to the same place. Again, he dropped as if legless. I topped off quick, got back in battery, and went back to scrutinizing his friends, who remained astonishingly disinterested in the proceedings.
Back up came the Pop-Tart.
Every time he sprang back up, things were looking worse. First, it meant that the downed bull had the full load of adrenaline in him. And every time I had to whack him again, it meant he had another opportunity to figure out where the rounds were coming from and decide to take umbrage. Likewise, the fact that his compadres hadn’t thrown in with him yet was absolutely no comfort. They might have a change of heart at any instant. With all that pressing on my consciousness, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances and hit him again, also through the boiler room.
Bang, down again, and sproing, this time he almost flew out of the toaster. All three were now looking around. And then they began to move.
After an instant of adrenal fire hosing, I realized that the movement wasn’t aggressive, and it wasn’t even toward us—they began a slow shuffle off to the east. Two deep breaths, one half out, careful careful careful careful sight picture, this time on the spine, track and slowly squeeze.
The fourth round off.
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