The Horns of a Dilemma
Tags: Lifestyle, Animals, Short Story Writing, Wildlife, Travel

The Horns of a Dilemma

Photo by sarah stockman on Unsplash

The sun’s tentacles were just unfurling past the peaks of the distant mountain range. Fingers of light stretch across the beautiful African plain, dust particles suspended in animated dance. The “night animals”, exhausted after the hunt, or being hunted, find shelter for the day. The “day animals”, stirring, getting ready to take over.

4 men, moving gorilla-like, backs bent, loping quickly along the crest of a small elevated outcrop.

The lead guy turns to the other three, whispers,

“Keep low, it’s easy to see movement on the ridge line. Use the vegetation”.

He was really speaking to the two Chinese men at the back. He had worked with his tracking partner for years, they both knew the ‘score’.

The high ground afforded them a better view, but exposed them to prying eyes from below. 2 Africans led, their dark skin partly camouflaged by the still dark sky – the back two, Chinese, nervous, sweat glistening. It was deathly quiet, the sound of heavy breathing and internal blood pumping around ear canals was all the men heard.

Constantly surveying the landscape – looking for signs, the two Africans peering out to the middle ground, generations of bush craft and tracker knowledge coming instinctively, the two Chinese followed closely behind but peering instead straight down at the latest in thermal imaging technology. It’s green eerie glow an unnatural site in the natural surroundings.

They moved with single minded purpose, dedicated to the one task at hand. On the thermal screen they could see many shapes moving, but not the right shape. They were after one prize, a quick kill, followed by a dash for the Mozambique border, and safety.

Their route into and out of South Africa and Mozambique paved by dirty money and corrupt officials. Money “turned” eyes the other way – they gladly paid. The rewards were huge, worth it.

On the shoulders of the lead African tracker, a backpack hung – blood, flowing from the backpack base, staining his khaki shorts and running down his athletic calf to the ground he rushed over.

He turned again, “we must hurry, it’s not safe when the sun is risen”.

They moved quicker, the two Chinese breathing harder, barely keeping up. The sun lazily lifted into the day, it’s brushstrokes revealing the wonder of the South African bush. This was The Kruger National Park. A wildlife sanctuary the size of Wales. A landlocked mass containing the most majestic animals in the world, including the Big Five! A natural ecosystem, managed by man, set aside by forward thinking men many years ago, a South African tourism jewel – left as nature intended … with NO human interference.

You could just as easily see a lion kill, a crocodile pull a fighting buck under water or a dung beetle rolling its dung across your path. A million people make the pilgrimage per year to see nature as intended, completely wild.

But now people came with weapons, not just cameras. Greed and humanity brought a new type of visitor! The Chinese had arrived in Africa, and quietly set about decimating its fauna and flora. Ably assisted by dirt poor locals, who’d do anything for a few dollars to feed their children.

Suddenly the Chinese whispered. They all stopped and studied the screen – a hazy green image, showing the “prize” was just over the rise. Two forms moving slowly near a large water source.

“Quick” the lead tracker hisses, “we’ve got very little time … !”

He knew they were already pushing their luck.

Encouraged by the screen, they found new energy and increased speed. Two outlines on the screen showed a small figure next to a larger one, the larger shape had the distinct shape of a horn at one end.

At $ 30 000 per pound, Rhino horn was worth risking lives for. They already had ‘two in the bag’ – one more and it would be a bumper day! But they had to be cautious … patrols watched closely. Wild animals crisscrossed the landscape, and Park Rangers had been after them through the night, ever since discovering the first “kill”. But the Rangers were searching for a needle in a haystack – the park is huge!

Suddenly an all terrain “bakkie” (pickup truck) drove up. Four Park Rangers sprang out, everyone was on high alert at this ‘cat and mouse’ game. The rangers had tracking devices on all rhinos … they were checking up on a mom rhino and her new calf. They kept their distance but monitored the pair for an hour. The poachers, carefully moving slowly, covering ground between themselves and where the rhino pair were headed. They knew the rangers would shoot on sight.

Suddenly the radio cracked into life – a voice came on.

“Phineas , we’ve found a second kill site. The bastards have killed Nelson”.

All rhinos have names or numbers for reference to stop the poachers hearing herd numbers and location over the radio.

“Nooo”!, the one called Phineas cried. You could hear the pain in his voice.

They clambered aboard the “bakkie” and made for the kill site. Hoping to catch the poachers in a pincer movement. A helicopter had been called for, it belonged to a wealthy local big game farmer. He’d agreed to go up and recon the general area.

Everybody took a Rhino kill seriously, but two in one night! This was serious. This was a well organised poacher party. The first ‘kill’ was no opportunistic moment, not since finding the second kill. They could see similarities in the kill method. These poachers would not stop killing. The “bakkie” sped 50 yards from the two Chinese men, under cover behind a fallen tree.

Within minutes the poachers were on the move. They had kept moving through the night, the Chinese were not keen at the time, but were now very grateful they’d hired experienced poachers. They were long gone from the second kill zone.

They crested a hill and before them was the jackpot. A mature rhino with a beautiful horn and it’s baby. They moved quickly downwind, and prepared to ambush. The two Africans split up and repositioned either side of a small gully, each with a Chinese ‘helper’, “the paymasters”. It’s unusual for the ‘paymasters’ to tag along but these two middle-men ‘couriers’ wanted to kill a rhino. Big game hunters will pay anything from $50–100k to legally cull a rhino. So ‘why not’ ‘kill two birds with one stone’ they thought. Horns and the opportunity to down a rhino. They would be heroes back in China.

4 rifles, AK47’s, were trained on the large mother, but it was agreed the two African trackers would only shoot if a problem arose. A misfire could cause a very angry Rhino to come bearing down on you. The first Rhino had been shot by a tracker, the second by the Chinese ‘boss’, now it was the other Chinaman’s turn. No names were given. They were just “Chinese Boss and china man” – they preferred it that way.

But “china man” was nervous, the adrenaline pumping through his body – he’d never felt anything like this. The tracker stood behind him, both guns aimed at the mother –

“aim between the eyes or at the back of the ear, make sure you miss the horn though … and fire. You need to hurry!”, the tracker whispered. His lips inches from the China mans ear.

He knew the window for a clean kill would last a split second. The Chinaman took a breath, waited a few seconds to control his shaking, and fired.

The bullet clearly entered the rhinos right eye and she dropped like a stone. As shots go, it was clean, but she wasn’t dead. The calf, frightened and disorientated started snorting and stamping … “crack!” A second shot rang out and the calf too, went down in a heap! The Chinaman was giggling uncontrollably. Adrenaline pulsing through his bloodstream. He’d shot both. Excitedly he waved to his friend, who was giving a thumbs up. He’d captured the moment on his smart phone.

They rushed over to the scene, the calf was motionless, however the mother was still breathing and moving. The two trackers knew the shots would have been heard. They were angry, one shot is hard to hear or gauge the direction, but two shots fired in quick succession, would immediately alert everybody. They’d clearly said only one shot! But in the excitement, the Chinaman didn’t care less. He’d bagged a double kill.

While the mother lay dying in the sand, her only view was of her dead calf. They repeatedly hacked around her horn with an axe to remove it quickly, her beautiful face now lacerated by the axe. She struggled, clearly in pain, but unable to move, to do anything. The Chinaman who shot her, hacked the tails off both animals – a souvenir to show his friends back home. He stuffed them in the bag, blood sleeping faster now.

They added the horn, dripping in blood to the two already in the bag, turned to take in one last look at the devastation they’d carried out in minutes. Blood now gushing from the Rhino’s face – her once beautiful eye a mangled sea of flesh and a gaping hacked hole where her once proud horn had protruded, countless deep axe cuts spilling her life into the Kruger sand. Blood pouring from her tailless rump, as with her dead baby calf. A grisly scene more suited to Dante’s Inferno, than a glorious sunrise in an animal park.

Smiling, the 4 men turned and melted into the foliage. A job well done they collectively thought. Potentially a million dollars worth of horn in the bag, if they could get it to China. It’s purpose – to feed a ridiculous belief that rhino horn – no different than human fingernail, carried some mystical sexual potency ingredient for wealthy Chinese and Vietnamese men!

The lead tracker suddenly left the other three and “back tracked” after they’d jogged a mile or so, while the second tracker turned sharply East with the two Chinese. Towards Mozambique. They had agreed on a meeting point in advance. The lead tracker sprinted back to the kill zone, transferred the body parts to a clean bag and buried the old blood stained one. He then took off in a totally different direction to the initial blood trail. He was moving to the agreed meeting point. No blood dropped from the new bag. Alone, he could cover ground much faster. They'd track the blood to a dead end. He knew what he was doing. He was an ex-tracker now earning a living by killing the animals he had sworn to protect. Money changes a man.

Once in Mozambique, safe passage made possible by bribes, the men parted ways. The Chinese Boss paid the two African trackers the equivalent of a year’s wages each, 100 000 South African Rand (ZAR) to share. – around $5000.00 for the work, which included handsome bonuses for the 3 horns. A big haul by any standards.

The four dead rhinos adding to the almost 9 500 killed by poaching over the past 10-years. South Africa holds 80% of the world’s Rhino population. One is now killed every 15 hours … for a horn. High ranking government officials are “in” on this brutal butchering of one of Africa’s most prized resources. It’s wildlife.

What can YOU do to prevent this 9000% increase in poaching from happening?