Our recent visit to Kruger National Park in South Africa included three night game drives and two morning hikes. As typical tourists, we looked in the wild for animals we only knew from the zoo. We wanted to see where and how they really live. Spotting any animal in its habitat is an exciting thing, and Kruger is the gold standard for real habitat.
Kruger can't be comprehended if compared to a zoo. The park is huge, about the size of Israel. There are literally thousands of animals there. Our guide, Mark, reminded us that his purpose was to protect the animals and that there are no guarantees that we would see any. The animals are not like dancing hippos, there to entertain. The park belongs to the wildlife. The animals would be just as happy to be left alone. They are not looking to make new friends. Undiscouraged, we pursued them on foot during the day and vehicle at night.
When I was in high school, a night drive meant a warm summer night looking for a different sort of game. I drove around town in a 1956 two-tone Ford, windows down, left elbow out, and high hopes that Aqua Velva would lure my prey hither. This was different.
In the game parks of South Africa, the vehicles are charitably referred to as land cruisers. They are actually trucks with a frame welded to the bed. The frame supports three rows of tiered seats behind the driver. The front windshield is lowered to the hood allowing a place for Mark and his assistant to put their rifles. There was nothing to keep out the wind.
The first challenge was the climb to our seats. Monkey bars bars and rope climbing came to mind. The first step was about four feet, from which one more or less falls into the bench seat. On the first night, there were eight of us, four from the U.S., two from Brazil, one from Jakarta and one from Cape Town.
The top-heavy cruiser was not intended for comfort. We drove through dry river beds, listing about 20 degrees left and right. We hung on like urban cowboys. No sooner did we get used to it, than the sun began to disappear. It was mid-winter in the bush. There no windows or heaters save the layers we brought along. The cruiser did, though, have heavy ponchos for the passengers. I wrapped myself and pulled up my turtle neck sweater to my nose. When my eyes watered in the cold wind, I thought about those warm, Indiana summer nights.
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Despite the gymnastics, rough rides and the discovery that it gets cold in Africa, the rides were rewarding. On one of them, we came upon a peaceful scene with several elephants dining on a hillside at sundown. We stopped and watched from our perches. The posed no threat being far more interested in getting their tons of daily food than messing with us. Later, near a paved road, we saw a male lion lounging contently on the long grass playing kissy face with his main squeeze. We took as many photos as the light would allow. The male looked our way, yawned deeply and return to his companion. There we were, voyeurs in the night.
On our final night, we left camp at dusk. The little dirt road near the camp soon deteriorated to little more than a path of deep ruts, and dry river beds. We came up to a fairly open part of the bush. Two or three rhinoceros were quietly grazing. Mark turned the engine off, and we waited for whatever would happen next. Two rhinos wandered away, leaving a lone male who slowly ambled in our direction. We watched him while wondering if a truck converted to an open air passenger van would match up to a rhino with a bad disposition.
The rhino comes with a lot of baggage. He has no front teeth and the visual acuity of Mr. Magoo. As weird and prehistoric as he looks, he is attracted to females but only for purposes of mating . . . . . by fighting. It's the only time the rhino uses his horns. Not long after he mates, he divorces and lives a solitary life.
While the rhino has no known predators, save one, and, while he has very thick skin, he is hounded by the lowly tick that attaches itself to the rhino's skin, causing the rhino to wallow in the mud to seek relief.
Not unlike most of us, rhinos are fussy about where they sleep, even to the point of being territorial about it. We were parked maybe 50 feet from a little muddy patch of dirt, the site of his "bed" for the night. He would find it easily enough unless we were too close, but he wasn't sure where we were.
Looking at his eyes, it's obvious he cannot see well. He is, however, endowed with a distinct sense of hearing. His ears look like little periscopes that pivot independently over 360 degrees to obtain information. As he gazed at us through his ineffective eyes, we stared back at him with cameras and video. The clicks, whirrs and beeps were data for the rhino's calculation. The computer in his head was triangulating. Advantage rhino. He moved a little closer to his spot. Mostly he was annoyed. Our land cruiser held its ground, and he became more restless. We remained quiet. Finally, he walked the last few paces and laid down in the shallow mud. Now that he was settled in, Mark did not want to start up the noisy engine and disturb him. There's no doubt he knew we were close. But the rhino now occupied his place of rest and would defend it.
We had become unwitting antagonists, selfishly enjoying the rhino's dilemma. The sun was setting and we had to leave. Reluctantly, Mark started the engine. The rhino did not charge. Instead, he got up and threw a little fit, jumping up and down and pawing at the ground like a two-year who refuses to share. As we drove away, we looked back as the rhino returned irritably to his lodging for the night.
Footnote:
In spite of his being lonely and considered ugly by some, the rhino is sought by the Chinese and a few other Asian cultures for his horn. Now that China has hit the economic lotto, it seems to be at a loss as to what to do with all its cash. During the last 4-5 years some enterprising Chinese managed to convince some super wealthy and unfulfilled Chinese men that rhino horns contain aphrodisiac properties. Part of selling the idea was to set the price well beyond the middle class. The liquid matter inside is sold for upwards of $60,000 per horn. This involves killing the rhino and cutting off its horn. The carcass is abandoned. There are plenty of Africans willing to take a chance to make more with one horn than he's likely see in a lifetime.
If the poachers are not stopped, the species faces extinction within 10 years. Over 200 have been killed this year so far. Game officials and guides on the ground are ever alert for poachers despite the threats to their lives.
The rhino lives in Africa, a great many of them in Kruger. It is a magnificent animal and has been around far longer than homo sapiens. He's no threat to anyone and a real joy to visit whether in the bush or in the zoo.
