Mhudi
Page 33
Tamboties are among the first to show that autumn is approaching, their leaves turning a deep red. Bush willow leaves begin to pale, never quite turning the classic deep autumn orange, with their leaves remaining edible and nutritious late into winter, even eaten off the ground, as crisp and dry as cornflakes.
Dry, cool air also signals the start of the biltong season, and for those who secure supplies of this year’s game biltong and droë wors at the local butcheries, or like to hunt and make it themselves, there isn’t a better time of the year to do so. Having just come through the height of the growing season, the game is in excellent condition. This is the lowveld’s harvest time in every sense of the word.
The Olifants River, having transported millions of tons of waterborne silt during the summer months, begins to fine off, running progressively clearer each day. The release of clear mountain water from the Blydepoort Dam supplements and maintains the flow right through the winter months. Large-scale yellowfish can now be clearly seen, their golden flanks glinting in the sun as they writhe and twist, gleaning minute invertebrates and algae off the water-worn river stones with their thick rubbery lips. Pel’s fishing owls, fish eagles, otters and herons use this opportunity to maximum advantage. Fishing conditions couldn’t be better. If you happen to be a keen fisherman, as I am, this is as good a time as any to take advantage of St Peter’s Promise, that God does not subtract from a man’s lifespan the time he spends fishing. Unfortunately, in order not to make a mockery of this pledge, no one is allowed to fish in the Olifants River, because we know that the crocodiles here have definitely not read the Gospel according to St Peter!
If you can tear yourself away from the bush during this time, why don’t you head out to the coast or the mountains and wet a line … what have you got to lose, except maybe a big one? It really is a good time to be outdoors anywhere in the country, whether you’re searching for fish or game. Somehow, however, I suspect most of you would rather be in the bush thinking about fishing, than be fishing thinking about the bush. Similarly, I suspect you’d rather be in the bush thinking about golf rather than playing golf thinking about the bush, even though I am told golf is a different ball game altogether. But nothing can compete with Olifants around Easter.
Orphaned Rhino
16 December 2003
The planned relocation and establishment of the three white rhino to Olifants North was going to take place later than planned. This was mainly due to the delay in the construction of the rhino holding pens on the North. Essentially, this posed no major problem as the selected rhino had already been captured and placed in our old pens at Sable Dam, and after five weeks had settled in well. My only concern was that they be moved in cool ambient temperatures. The longer the delay, the closer we moved the relocation date to December, so the hotter it would get and the riskier the operation would become. Consensus from both Olifants North and South was that the transfer should take place sooner rather than later, so every effort was made to speed up the erection of the holding pens on the North.
Having got two of their five pens ready, I suggested we move the rhino into the two that had been completed, and continue with completion of the other three at our leisure. The rhino would soon get used to the building activity and settle down.
At 4.30 am on 16 December 2003, the capture team arrived and preparations were made to move the rhino across the river. The bull we had named Tweedledee would be loaded first. The cow and her teenage bull calf would be loaded next. Everything was going according to plan until Johann Myburgh, the capture team leader, called me to the pen holding the cow and her young bull calf. He pointed to something that looked like a wet warthog. The salmon hue of the early dawn light hadn’t quite penetrated the interior of the pen, so it took my eyes a while to focus. When I realised what I was looking at I went numb … it was a new-born rhino, not more than a few hours old. ‘We can’t move these anywhere,’ Johann said.
To disturb the cow in any way might cause her to stand on and crush the baby. So we proceeded to load the bull as quietly as possible – well, as quietly as one can load a rhino bull. Tweedledee was safely transferred and relocated to the two pens on Olifants North. Although we felt disappointed that all three rhino could not have gone across at once, the members of Olifants North were even more disappointed, given their unbounded enthusiasm for the project.
The cow, her teenage calf and his tiny little brother were to be released back on their home turf that afternoon at 5 pm. The pen doors were quietly opened and the release left to take place passively. To minimise the risk of injury in the narrow gangway, the rhino had to move out in their own time and with no encouragement.
Mark Wolter, out on a game drive that evening, put out a general radio message to say that he had found a large lion and a lioness at Sable Dam. Knowing that our two pride males had been witnessed trying to catch baby rhino a few months previously at Hide Dam, I naturally feared the worst. Sable Dam is only about 300 metres from the pens, so it was logical that once out of the pens, the rhino would make for this waterhole for a drink and possibly a mud wallow at the inlet. Given Sable Dam’s popularity with rhino and the fact they hadn’t had a mud bath in over five weeks, this scenario was almost a certainty. I decided to go out and check on the situation.
Clad in a T-shirt, shorts and a pair of slip-slops, I grabbed a small torch and drove out to the pens. It was about 9.30 pm when I approached Sable Dam. Other vehicles had responded to Mark’s call and were now following the lions as they moved off in the direction of Rhino Pan, away from the pens. Although relieved, I wasn’t completely satisfied, as no one had been back to the pens since the doors were opened at 5 pm, so I decided to go and see if the rhino had managed to move out on their own. Arriving at the pens, my headlights made out the grey flank of an adult rhino moving in the bush outside the main enclosure. This was really encouraging! I quietly made my way to the entrance of the pen; using the torch, I threw a low beam virtually at ground level. Light being cast over tracks at an angle like this helps to lengthen and increase visibility of the shadows, making the impressions stand out more clearly. The reverse of this, incidentally, is tracking when the sun is high in the sky, when discerning impressions is relatively far more difficult. Now I needed to make sure that the rhino tracks outside the entrance had come from the pens and not just from an inquisitive outsider.
Satisfied that they had left the enclosure, I decided to close the doors of the pen. There’s nothing like the idea of bumping head-on into a rhino cow and her calf in a passageway 1.2 metres wide to keep you focused, so as a precaution, I shone the beam of the torch through the gaps between the upright poles forming the pen walls. At first, I saw nothing. It was eerily quiet, with the shadows cast by the poles making it difficult to see clearly. Then, something in the peripheral light caught my eye; I focused the beam directly on the apparent movement and my heart sank into my slip-slops. It was the baby rhino! I hoped to see a large protective mother’s head appear in the gap any second, but it didn’t materialise.
The realisation dawned that the mother had abandoned her calf. I reacted instinctively: if I could get the little chap outside the pen, the rhino I saw in the bush might be his mother, and she might be hanging around and would return for him. Anyhow, I had to give it a try. Walking up to the baby rhino, I placed the torch in my mouth and began to move him towards the exit some 40 metres away. This was easier said than done. I remember thinking how loose his skin was and how warm the little body felt. I also remember that the more I shoved him, the more he fearlessly shoved me back. He used his little stump, where one day a formidable horn would grow, in surprisingly powerful upward thrusting movements. His excellent aim made me wish I had a cricketer’s box in place, and I wondered how I’d explain the bruising in that area to Meagan. His huffs and puffs, punctuated with the occasional squeal, didn’t help matters either; visions of an enraged rhino cow coming to his rescue gave me the extra strength to try and get this over with as quickly as possibl
e.
To make matters worse, the dung and urine that covered the floor area combined to make for a very slippery surface indeed. I soon slipped right out of my slip-slops, which are, incidentally, useless in the bush. If they were bio-degradable I would have gladly left them there to rot.
Now barefoot and covered in you-know-what, I was the epitome of some poor unfortunate standing too close when, as the saying goes, ‘the s**t hits the fan’. Nonetheless, I eventually managed to get the little guy to the entrance. Now it was my turn to huff and puff. Although I imagined myself reasonably fit, the rhino, which was less than one day old, stood there defiant and committed to an apparently endless game of ‘you shove me, I shove you back’. Fairly quickly, I became exhausted. Leaving the rhino outside the pen, I closed the entrance to the passage with a large pole, climbed into the Cruiser and drove away. A concerned Meagan tried to console me when I arrived back home at about 11 pm – albeit from a distance of two metres and with her nose curled up. Ah well, it’s the thought that counts.
After a good bath, tired as I was, I expected to fall asleep quickly, but I couldn’t. Concerned about the rhino, I was unable to sleep, tossing and turning, much to Meagan’s annoyance, so I decided to go back and check on him. It was now 3.30 am. Arriving at the entrance to the pen, there was no sign of the rhino calf. Thinking positively and admiring the strength of motherly instinct, I approached the enclosure confidently. Stepping over the pole I had lodged in the entrance to the passageway, I made my way to the door to the pen itself, this time with a large torch and wearing a decent pair of boots. I swung the torchlight around the empty space of the first holding pen. As the light penetrated the far dark corner, it fell on a familiar shape and there, curled up fast asleep, was the baby rhino. He had jumped over the pole I had used to block the passageway and made his way back into the pen where he felt safe. There was no ‘ag shame, how cute,’ just my immediate resignation to the fact that this rhino’s life now depended entirely on human intervention. Faced with this responsibility and the need to make decisions and act quickly, the process began.
Despite the urgency, we thought it unfair to wake anyone at four in the morning. An hour later, we thought it totally fair, so I phoned our game capture operator for advice on to whom we could take the rhino. His immediate answer was, ‘Karen Trendler’. Karen is world-famous for her rehabilitation work, in particular for her success in rearing orphaned or injured rare species, including black rhino.
We gave Karen another half an hour to sleep and then Meagan woke her. Without hesitation she accepted. Then, as now, I was reminded what a wonderful person she is; the world can do with a few more like her. As Karen’s Care Centre is on the other side of Pretoria, we had to make suitable preparations for the seven-hour journey. An hour later, we had the rhino comfortably crated and Meagan and I comfortably stocked up with coffee and sandwiches, so we headed for Pretoria. As apprehensive as we were about the well-being of our cargo while in transit, we were also looking forward to seeing Karen again, as the last time we’d seen each other was in Botswana’s Tuli Block in 1984.
Concerned about hypoglycaemia, I telephoned veterinarian Dr Pete Rodgers of Hoedspruit, and asked if he would please give the baby rhino a quick once over. Perhaps he would recommend a mild tranquilliser for the journey, or whatever he thought appropriate. When he heard the predicament we were in, he suggested we save ourselves a long journey and take the rhino to Kapama. He had been their full-time vet for years prior to opening his own successful practice, and thus had first-hand knowledge of their capabilities. ‘Kapama Game Reserve has an excellent track record of rearing orphaned wild animals, particularly young rhino, and they have all the necessary facilities,’ he said.
We couldn’t ignore his advice. We thought that Karen was the best, but the reality was that she was seven hours’ drive away. We decided that as we had to drive right past Kapama to get a permit from the Department of Environmental Affairs, we would give it a go, and arranged to meet Pete at the rehabilitation facility on the reserve.
The fact that Pete offered his personal assurance of his commitment to the veterinary care of the rhino was also a major deciding factor. The reception at Kapama was overwhelming. The little rhino was treated like it was the last one alive. It was then moved into what I can only describe as a stable, in which I would be happy to sleep … something akin to the cosy, welcoming environment Joseph and Mary came across a couple of thousand years ago, except now complete with infra-red lamp and a sheep for companionship.
An enthusiastic Juliette Ersdick, as pretty as she is dedicated, would be in charge of the rhino’s care. Taking it in shifts with other trained staff, they would bunk down with the little rhino as it would need regular feeding and monitoring. Pete examined him and gave the thumbs up. Seeing the team fussing over the orphan, Pete and I quietly agreed that in our next life we would like to come back as an orphan rhino at Kapama … we could lose the sheep, though.
‘Roger’, yes, ‘Roger the Rhino’, as he is now known, is doing very well indeed, thanks to the dedication of Kapama’s staff and their excellent facilities.
Footnote
It is well known that white rhino calves run in front of their mothers, while black rhino calves run behind or follow. It is feasible, then, that white rhino calves not only run or walk in front of their mothers, but that they may actually lead them. We suspect this is probably what happened when the rhinos were released from the pens. The cow may not have had enough time to firmly bond with the new calf while the existing bond between her and her ‘teenage’ calf was still intact. When the doors were opened, he simply led his mother out of the pen – and in so doing, she inadvertently left little Roger behind. Little Roger, being instinctively a leader and not a follower, stayed put. Why then did we not leave them in the pen to establish the vital cow/calf bond? There is no simple answer, except that the risk of injury to such a small, delicate animal in the confines of a small pen was high, and this overriding concern outweighed other considerations.
Black Rhino
History in the making, 2009
When Ron Thomson, well known conservationist and author, visited Balule a few years ago, he was quite taken with the rugged Commiphora woodland and broken hilly terrain that the Olifants River ran through. This habitat, which makes up approximately 40 per cent of the reserve’s total area, features a rich variety of Acacia and Grewia species, the latter forming thickets and stands wherever the soil was a little deeper. For the most part the substrate is characterised by rock-strewn valleys and undulating terrain with relatively shallow soils. Hard country even by African standards, though the world’s biggest waterbuck are found here, but this is not what intrigued Ron. He recognised something about this bush that none of us were aware of. He could see the excellent potential of this area for black rhino, so much so, that he said a more suitable habitat for black rhino would be difficult to find in the lowveld.
Although Ron had spent an enormous amount of time studying these animals in Zimbabwe, his assessment of our area with regard to suitability for black rhino was based on gut feel, his knowledge of their habitat preference and what he had seen driving around the reserve rather than specific research in the Balule area with this prospect in mind. Little did anyone know at the time that years later his ecological prophecy based on his experience, keen observation and evaluation would be unequivocally endorsed by the experts on what constitutes good black rhino habitat … the rhino themselves!
Recently a unique opportunity to exchange two black rhino bulls for three white rhino was presented to the APNR. Three of the four reserves making up the association, namely Timbavati, Klaserie and Balule, would each offer one white rhino. A simple enough exchange, but we’re not talking about marbles for peanut butter sandwiches here. For this to happen as planned would require the special effort of dedicated professionals – but even this initiative was influenced by politics, which always have a way of interfering. Sometimes this can be a good thing; mostly
though it isn’t, so it was understandable that a high-profile project such as this would elicit some political debate.
Where should the rhino be released, on which reserve – and more specifically, on whose property? The wardens, on the other hand, were more concerned with the practicalities; we needed to decide whether the rhino should be penned in bomas for a while prior to release, or simply be ‘wild released’. Fortunately, in consultation with the veterinarians tasked with the co-ordination of this introduction, the decision was made easier when we adopted a pragmatic approach, focusing primarily on the release method in the best interest of the rhino themselves.
Olifants offered our 20-year-old but serviceable rhino pens for this purpose if the rhino were to be penned. The consensus among the wardens and the veterinarians involved was that the rhino should be wild released. Looking objectively at the bigger picture and the value to conservation in the APNR, the wardens and non-landowners were in the best position to make the necessary decisions on the ground. Kudos to Colin Rowles, the warden of Klaserie, who played a leading role in the co-ordination of this project and for choosing the release sites with total impartiality. They would be released in the southern part of the Klaserie, far enough from Kruger and yet central to the three biggest of the four reserves in the APNR. From here the rhino could choose to fan out into the greater area without obstruction, in whatever direction they chose. In hindsight, this was the correct decision, as the rhino have made up their own minds and have decided without any unnatural interference.
Finally all the t’s were crossed and all the i’s were dotted and the day, or rather the night, arrived. The two black rhino had endured the ten-hour journey from Swaziland to the Klaserie safely and in good health, thanks to constant monitoring of this precious cargo by two of the industry’s most capable vets. We were on tenterhooks awaiting the actual arrival and even though we were sent a whole series of text messages updating us every hour of their progress, the journey seemed to take forever.