by Gwynn White
The rest of the time I volunteered, I scrubbed exhibits and enclosures; shoveled elephant manure, giraffe dung, owl droppings; distributed zoo-authorized feed to small mammals and various birds of prey, and helped prepare diets for most of the other animals.
A lot of the recurrent, tedious work was continuously being replaced by automation, so that the need for human intervention was minimized. Still, there were always people, like me, willing to give time to the Zoo. It was a way to get back to roots, to become part of nature again.
When I finished my degree at Guelph and submitted the final reports on my various projects at Gosling—covering a range of topics like cellular genetics, specimen collection and viability, and the vault integrity of a seed repository in Norway—I’d taken a position doing work with CIRCE, the research institution attached to the Zoo, which focused on conservation biology.
Often that involved work outside the lab. There was a duty roster for activities that cycled among the CIRCE staff, and one day not long after I joined, I saw my name on it, alongside the location: Kruger National Park.
It followed that, on the day the UES Ashitaka was to rendezvous with Gabriel’s Comet, I was in South Africa, thirteen thousand miles across the Atlantic, away from home.
6
Pigeon Hawk
When the object was first discovered, we didn’t call it the Comet, didn’t capitalize the word as if it were some mythological deity. It didn’t have a special meaning for those of us on Earth from the other comets in the universe. It wasn’t as if it were our Moon, special among the other moons orbiting other planets in the Solar System.
Before all that, it was a Kuiper Belt object, a KBO, a comet of some particular interest, with a number instead of a name, and some in the scientific community still called it that after the news broke.
Seven years later, the starship Ashitaka turned over its mission to another craft, and charted a new course to overtake Gabriel’s Comet. Even then, the news of that encounter was a small, passing, unimportant part of that day, because the ending of the Earth, such as it was, was an exceedingly remote probability, a faraway thought, an unimportant part in the endings of that single day.
And, despite what happened with the UES Ashitaka that day, looking back I realized that the time I truly felt my own world begin to end was a year later, on a Merlin, an aerospinner cruising in glide mode about four hundred feet above the Niagara escarpment in Canada, at the edge of Glen Eden Zoo.
That was when my mother finally told me her secret wish.
7
Blesbok or Wildebeest
South Africa was my first major field mission, and I wanted so badly to prove I could cut it out here as well as in front of the cryopumps and centrifuges.
That morning, at our temporary camp in Kruger National Park, I watched six split screens on a computer for any signs of Amahle. My long, black hair was braided and pinned back; the early sun’s heat beating through the tied-back tent flaps.
On each of the screens the varied landscapes of South Africa scrolled by—savannah, river, bush, watering hole, sand. We were seeing what the cameras saw, mounted on the autonomous drones we’d let loose a half hour ago. Each unmanned aerial vehicle was following its calculated flight path through the game reserve according to its mission grid, its LiDAR sensors raster-scanning the terrain for obstacles.
Jake Hawkins was the mission specialist in charge of the UAVs, unmanned aerial vehicles or drones. His computer was displaying video feed from each of the UAVs; he fiddled with the keyboard, enhancing the contrast here, enlarging a detail there, working furiously to re-capture the signal on a lost channel.
He stabbed at one of the screens. “Zara?” he said to me, pointing to a shadow the edge of the frame.
I looked at the shadow, but it wasn’t our quarry. I shook my head and he got back to his keyboard.
More shadows marched across the landscape as we caught an occasional herd of blesbok or wildebeest. The geo-tagged images were detailed, mesmerizing, streamed to us through the drone manufacturer’s servers. Plains zebra stopped to drink. At any other time, we might have stopped and take a closer look at the amazing vista, but we were looking for something else this time. We were looking for a unicorn.
The drones flew.
In the base camp tent, on Jake’s computer, each drone’s field of vision was displayed neatly on the screen.
The reserve had tried out fixed surveillance cameras in the past, scattered across a quarter of the reserve; half of them were shot out by poachers within a year.
Amahle was a female eastern black rhino. The beautiful one, as her name implied. Our unicorn. Her name spoke to the joy of her birth, the joy of her family and her ancestors, all here with her in the present.
All that was true. Six years ago Amahle’s mother Kitani gave birth to her, an extremely rare occurrence, especially in the wild. Fortunately, footage of mother and calf was picked up accidentally by one of the cameras, and a back-up contingent of rangers had been dispatched to guard the pair. She had grown, matured, and now she was of mating age, nothing short of a miracle.
Once, herds of eastern black rhinos numbered in the thousands across the grasslands of Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, Somalia and Tanzania. Now there were less than sixty animals worldwide. Some had been brought here to South Africa in an attempt to preserve and, down the road, possibly expand their numbers.
The previous October, near one of the smashed surveillance cameras, rangers found the body of Kitani, the mother of our unicorn.
Bezoar stones, goat’s blood, bone of a stag’s heart, unicorn’s horn—in the history of the human race, all have been thought to have powerful properties to detect, prevent, and cure human maladies. In past eras, these were also used when ancient physicians could not properly diagnose the malady but simply identified it as poisoning.
The Greek physician Ctesias was perhaps the first to ascribe pharmaceutical properties to the single, spiral horn of the unicorn, the mythical beast. He believed that drinking from a cup fashioned from the unicorn horn would counter poisons and shield against epilepsy and other convulsive illnesses.
The unicorn’s horn grew in reputation in medieval times, where it was touted as a cure for plague, pestilence, and poison. Strained with liquids such as water or milk, and added to less exotic ingredients such as powdered lobster shell, unicorn horn could be applied to wounds or drunk against fevers, measles and smallpox, and bites inflicted by mad dogs and serpents. Finally it was used as a cordial, a restorative, and had value as an aphrodisiac.
Nicholas Culpeper, an English botanist, herbalist, physician, and astrologer published the Complete Herbal in 1653, which catalogues hundreds of medicinal recipes, and commentary on antidotes from his contemporary, including Matthiolus’s great antidote against Poison and Pestilence:
“Take of Rhubarb, Rhapontic, Valerian roots, the roots of Acorus, or Calamus Aromaticus, Cypress, Cinquefoyl, Tormentil, round Birthwort, male Peony, Elecampane, Costus, Illirick, Orris, white Chamelion, or Avens, of each three drams, the Roots of Galanga, Masterwort, white Dictamni, Angelica, Yarrow, Fillipendula or Dropwort, Zedoary, Ginger, of each two drams, Rosemary, Gentian, Devil’s-bit, of each two drams and an half, the seeds of Citrons, and Agnus Castus, the berries of Kermes, the seeds of Ash-tree, Sorrel,[338] wild Parsnips, Navew, Nigella, Peony the male, Bazil, Hedge Mustard, (Irio) Treacle Mustard, Fennel, Bishop’s-weed, of each two drams, the berries of Bay, Juniper, and Ivy, Sarsaparilla, (or for want of it the double weight of Cubebs,) Cubebs, of each one dram and an half, the leaves of Scordium, Germander, Chamepitys, Centaury the less, Stœchas, Celtic Spikenard, Calaminth, Rue, Mints, Betony, Vervain, Scabious, Carduus Benedictus, Bawm, of each one dram and an half, Dittany of Crete three drams, Marjoram, St. John’s Wort, Schœnanth, Horehound, Goats Rue, Savin, Burnet, of each two drams, Figs, Walnuts, Fistic-nuts, of each three ounces, Emblicks, Myrobalans half an ounce, the flowers of Violets, Borrage, Bugloss, Roses, Lavender, Sage, Rosemary, of each
four scruples, Saffron three drams, Cassia Lignea ten drams, Cloves, Nutmegs, Mace, of each two drams and an half, black Pepper, long Pepper, all the three sorts of Sanders, wood of Aloes, of each one dram and an half, Hart’s-horn half an ounce, Unicorn’s-horn, or in its stead, Bezoar stone, one dram, bone in a Stag’s heart, Ivory, Stag’s pizzle, Castoreum, of each four scruples, Earth of Lemnos three drams, Opium one dram and an half, Orient Pearls, Emeralds, Jacinth, red Coral, of each one dram and an half, Camphire two drams, Gum Arabic, Mastich, Frankincense, Styrax, Turpentine, Sagapenum, Opopanax, Laserpitium, or Myrrh, of each two drams and an half, Musk, Ambergris, of each one dram, oil of Vitriol half an ounce, species cordiales temperatæ, Diamargariton, Diamoscu, Diambra, Electuarij de Gemmis, Troches of Camphire, of Squills, of each two drams and an half, Troches of Vipers two ounces, the juice of Sorrel, Sow Thistles, Scordium, Vipers Bugloss, Borrage, Bawm, of each half a pound, Hypocistis two drams, of the best Treacle and Mithridate, of each six ounces, old Wine three pounds, of the best Sugar, or choice Honey eight pounds six ounces. These being all chosen and prepared with diligence and art, let them be made into an electuary just as Treacle or Mithridate is.
Culpeper comments: “The title shews you the scope of the author in compiling it, I believe it is excellent for those uses. The dose of this is from a scruple to four scruples, or a dram and an half: It provokes sweating abundantly, and in this or any other sweating medicine, order your body thus: Take it in bed, and cover yourself warm, in your sweating, drink posset-drink as hot as you can, if it be for a fever, boil Sorrel and red Sage in posset-drink, sweat an hour or two if your strength will bear it, then the chamber being kept very warm, shift yourself all but your head, about which (your cap which you sweat in being kept on) wrap a hot napkin, which will be a means to repel the vapours back. This I hold the best method for sweating in fevers and pestilences, in which this electuary is very good. I am very loth to leave out this medicine, which if it were stretched out, and cut in thongs, would reach round the world.”
Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, brought a piece of horn with her from France to identify poisons in her food. An entire horn belonging to Henri II, king of France in 1553, was documented at the time to be worth £20,000. I can’t even think about what that would be in today’s currency. If you couldn’t afford an entire unicorn horn, its astounding properties could be obtained by purchasing powdered horn at the apothecary’s for the equivalent, in 1610, of £24 per powdered ounce.
The idea that the unicorn’s horn was a powerful medicinal ingredient held sway for several centuries, long after doubts about its effectiveness were first raised. Toward the close of the 18th century, pharmaceutical value of these horns were discredited. This was as a result of science showing that the results of the potions could be ascribed to chance, and because the existence of the unicorn gradually became identified with one of two actual creatures. Most often, a narwhal tooth or powdered rhinoceros horn were the suspects.
The drones flew.
We watched, but there still wasn’t much of interest from the drones’ live feed on Jakes’s computer.
“What do you think, Dr. Harbridge?”
That was Walter Neilson, the American from Cincinnati. A real estate developer and recreational hunter, he’d won the right to this safari at his state hunt club auction. He’d repeated several times over dinner last week that the auction was in partial benefit of a local children’s hospital.
“Rhinos—they’re the most dangerous animal in Africa, yes?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He was blond and blue-eyed, dressed in Mahikan River Outfitters khaki from head to toe, wearing Maskwa Trail shoes. I remember hesitating. It was his hunt, after all. His money was part of why this hunt was taking place, and therefore why CIRCE had a chance for this field mission.
“Depends,” I said. “Rhinos generally like to keep to themselves. If you bother them and they’re running down your jeep, it’s more likely they want to chase you away.”
He grinned.
“But make no mistake, they’re no pushovers. If you make them feel that they’re threatened, that’ll be three tons of beast bearing down on you at fifty klicks.”
Now Jake was grinning, and behind him Caspar Theiler, our PH, the legally designated Professional Hunter of the group, who had the big-game license for the what was called the big four: buffalo, lion, elephant and rhinoceros.
“You need to be ten meters away before you can take a shot. Assuming your aim is true, the dart’ll put her to sleep, in, oh about twenty, twenty-five minutes. If you’re on the ground, that’s more than enough time for her to close the distance.”
Caspar clapped Walter on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be covering you if she charges.”
We weren’t just darting a rhino, we were moving her.
If this whole thing worked out, she’d be in Cheshire, England at the Chester Zoo this time next week, part of the EESBP, the European Endangered Species Breeding Program, for the eastern black rhino. And I’d be back in Canada, with something else to add to our continuing work at CIRCE.
Operations like the EESBP at Chester were a last chance that the current population did not become the last generation of these creatures, threatened to near-extinction for their horns.
Rhinoceros horn is made of keratin, a material found in human hair and fingernails, growing to between three and five feet in length. Rhinoceros horn is perhaps the most valuable animal material on Earth or the inner colonies, and worth even more on the black markets. It was even more valuable than cocaine or gold.
The demand came from the prosperous demographics of China, Vietnam, and Valles Marineris, where rhino horn—much like that of the unicorn—was held as a status symbol among the elite, drunk as a water-powder mixture in social gatherings, used to combat cancer, alleviate snakebite, hangovers, and as an aphrodisiac.
To satisfy demand, the wholesale price on the black markets of these regions had reached $60,000 per kilogram of rhinoceros horn, with retail prices astronomically beyond that.
A poacher, the first link in the market chain, could sell into the back market in South Africa itself at $6,000 a kilogram. For a poacher, a bull rhino horn weighing 40 kilograms, was life-changing, and all it took was a bunch of nerve and a semi-automatic assault rifle.
To move the rhino, we were armed with a very different sort of fire-arm. We stocked a tranquilizer rifle that shot 0.50 caliber darts tipped with a hypodermic needle, filled with a powerful sedative. On impact, a steel ball at the rear of the dart would be flung forward, activating a syringe plunger and injecting the drug into the animal.
For a fully-grown rhino it took a while for the sedative to take effect, as it circulated through the bloodstream, but when it did, the rhino was incapacitated, unresisting, which allowed handlers to move in without risk to themselves or the animal. The handlers had to move quickly, securing the rhino, protecting its eyes, checking its vitals, and administering antidotes as required.
The day before had been earmarked for the practice session for Walter to get used to the tranquilizing rifle. Dr. Hansie Malema, the team veterinarian, had filled the practice darts with water, showed Walter the breach loading, pressure adjustment and gauge readout. Nothing to it—get close enough, aim, squeeze, release.
Moving a rhino was a fairly involved operation.
We had nearly a dozen strong men to handle Amahle after she was tranquilized, and an additional truck to carry her in.
Jake’s unmanned aerial vehicles were there to save us a bit of time locating the rhino, and there was an aerospinner on stand-by in case we needed one for the actual run.
There were safari vehicles for Walter, Caspar, Jake, Hansie, Mark Jensen—the conservation scientist representing Chester, and myself representing Glen Eden.
I say Glen Eden, but CIRCE was actually an independent entity from the Zoo, albeit having its main office and labs in a building on the banks of Kelso Lake, on Zoo grounds.
CIRCE w
as established several years after the Zoo was founded, but its affiliation with the Weston Foundation made them close partners. CIRCE also worked closely with many of the other zoological parks and facilities in Canada, such as the Toronto Zoo and the Greater Vancouver Zoo in British Columbia.
Glen Eden Zoo itself wasn’t as big as the Toronto Zoo, just over an hour away. They had over six thousand animals from over 550 different species. The Zoo’s public collection represented 120 species, including some endangered, critically endangered and previously extinct species.
Besides Judith Weston and the staff at CIRCE, there were the official keepers who were responsible for operating the facility, including Gwynn, Pavarti, Cheri, Daniel, Ann, Anthea, Kylie, Erin and Lisa.
There were also volunteers and co-op students, there on a rotating basis, although many of them continued on season after season, often becoming part of the regular staff. That season the roster included Frankie, Sharyn, Melanie, Dean, Margo, Felix, Derek, Rebecca, Tim, Tony, Becca, Logan, (a different) Erin, Marilyn, JC, and Ella.
The Zoo has programs in captive breeding and re-introduction, which involve mating, propagating, and raising endangered and critically-endangered species in controlled habitats and, where possible, returning the population back to their natural habitats. The program included Algonquin wolves, tri-colored bats, Jefferson salamanders, spiny softshell turtles, Kirtland’s warbler, and others.
There were other projects, like the ones I worked on at CIRCE—honed by my experience at the biodiversity institute at Guelph—that are slanted more towards biotechnology, process efficiency, and other innovations, complementary to the Zoo’s captive breeding programs. One of those projects was what brought me here to Kruger, here to South Africa.