Rhinos have existed on Earth for over fifty million years and today are the second largest land mammals after the elephant. But the demand for rhino horn, particularly in Asia, is huge because it is widely and falsely believed to be a cure for cancer as well as an aphrodisiac. More recently it has become a status symbol and the horn is now associated with financial wealth (yet still with cultural medicinal usage).
Rhino horn from both white and black species attracts prices in excess of US$55,000, which is significantly more than the price of gold, diamonds, and even cocaine. Anti-poaching initiatives have evolved dramatically over recent years and the drive to protect these magnificent animals attracts millions of dollars in private and public funding worldwide.
The war against rhino poaching is waged with sophisticated, military-like precision throughout South Africa, Nah-mib-ee-ah, Zim-bah-bweh, and Kenya in both state and privately-owned protected areas.
Once roaming the plains of North America, Europe, Asia, and Africa, the populations of rhino in the wild have been mostly eradicated in all but Africa, and to a lesser extent in Asia, where one-horned Javan and Sumatran rhino still exist. The square-lipped rhino is the largest of the two African species, and is commonly known as the white rhino, a name that evolved from the German word ‘weit’ meaning wide. Eighty per cent of the remaining population of this animal is found in South Africa.
Even though approximately four hundred animals are killed by poachers annually, down from a peak of 1,300, today a population of between nineteen thousand and 21,000 rhino are found in protected areas and private game reserves. The rhino has now been reclassified as ‘near threatened’, a far cry from the late-1800s when fewer than one hundred of these animals existed. Similarly, the total black rhino (or hook-lipped rhino) population has grown from 2,410 in 1995 to over five thousand today.
With the advent of the Coronavirus, Africa witnessed a resurgence of organized, syndicated poaching, so in order to counter this, game conservationists increased their activity of removing the rhino horns. The practice is safe and painless, and the horn does regrow. But without the horn, the attraction for poachers is removed and the animal’s life expectancy is greatly improved. Poaching numbers in 2020 were the lowest in the past two years, aided by the restrictions imposed by the pandemic on human movement and international travel, which made distribution difficult.
I was delighted to be part of the leadership from work who were invited to enter this exciting world of selfless environmentalists and the ongoing war that they tirelessly wage for the preservation of these magnificent beasts. In addition to the value that team building offers in such a unique wildlife environment, the team joined in and helped to dehorn ten of the resident rhino on a private game ranch in South Africa’s Vah-ter-berg region.
Many of the team had never had the privilege of going behind the scenes in the bush before, which made the experience that much more breathtaking.
For one of the team, Sumay Dippenaar, the first rhino dehorning was an immensely emotional experience. She tells of how the excitement of the hunt, the darting of the animal, and then the effort that everyone had to make to roll the two-tonne body onto its side, was a very dangerous and serious experience for the rhino itself.
Although the animal did not endure any pain as such, the measured supply of oxygen required to be administered by the wildlife veterinary doctors, the actual removal of the horn and the subsequent procedure of bringing the rhino through recovery and onto its legs again, all combined to reveal the enormous trauma that, under any other circumstance, would never be necessary for the poor animal to endure. It was an experience that brought Sumay to tears.
For another of the team, Gerhard le Roux, it was an unexpected and profound ‘bucket list’ experience, something that wasn’t even on his list because he never imagined he’d get the opportunity to be part of such an experience.
One minute we were in the city, working through spreadsheets, closing sales, or providing guidance to a young colleague, he said afterwards and the next, we were in the wild touching one of those magnificent creatures. The realization of being a part of the process of protecting such beautiful and endangered animals, even for a day, and in so doing, making a difference, however small, was very humbling.
The event brought back memories of when I was charged by a black rhino while attending a company conference in the Ih-tah-lah Game Reserve, back in the early 1990s. Ih-tah-lah is a national park that lies in the foothills of the Ngot-sheh Mountains, about four hundred kilometres north of Durban in Kwah-zoo-loo Nah-tahl. Because of its geographic location, it boasts a variety of vegetation from dense foliage along the rivers to high-lying grassland plateaus that undulate into the distance until they meet the mountain ridges and cliffs. Noticeably, the grass-topped hills are virtually devoid of shrubbery or trees to speak of. The hotel in Ih-tah-lah itself is built on the side of a mountain, offering spectacular views over the rolling hills and valleys below.
On our first night, six of us decided to take up the rangers on an invitation to go on an early morning breakfast walk. Just before sunrise the following morning, we climbed into the back of an open buck-ee and were taken down the mountain to the valley below.
Before we left the vehicle on foot, the ranger set us up in single file. I found myself positioned directly behind him. He gave us a briefing on how we should conduct ourselves in the bush. We needed to keep quiet. If he lifted his hand, we should stop and stand still and await further instructions. He told us that rhino have poor eyesight but have well developed senses of hearing and smell.
We set off in single file on the premise that we were in good hands, and in any event, those kinds of things never happen to us. After a steady walk through the grasslands, during which time I noted that the ranger constantly kept us walking into a light breeze, we approached a shallow valley at the bottom of which ran a mountain stream, bounded by thick outcrops of reeds on its banks.
As we got closer, the reeds directly in front of me parted, and a giant of a black rhino launched itself in my direction with its head down and horn up while snorting its discontent. The ranger held up his hand. I froze. The rhino came to an abrupt stop, head still down and looking straight into my eyes. In hindsight, I guess the rhino couldn’t see us very well and as we were upwind of him, he couldn’t smell us.
But at the moment, the animal and I stood in complete silence eyeing each other out. I didn’t so much as breathe. Softly, ensuring that his voice would not carry forward, the ranger turned his head slightly towards us and said, If he charges, find a tree! I instinctively looked around for a suitable tree, but as mentioned before, there weren’t any for as far as the eye could see. One could hardly avoid a nervous smile at the guide’s sense of humour at the height of the moment.
The rhino eventually turned around and trundled off down the hill and out of sight, and I lived to see another day.