To dehorn or not to dehorn

The rhino is the face of the South African R10, our smallest note. The species is also, ironically, the face of the multimillion-rand poaching trade. Illegal wildlife trafficking ranks amongst the top four crime syndicates in the world. Poaching is the middle child in a family of arms dealing, human trafficking and drug trade. Often overlooked, poaching is Africa’s scourge.

In South Africa, rhinos seem to bear the brunt of poaching. Their horns are sold for use in traditional Chinese medicine, as a cure for fever and rheumatism. While completely unfounded, this conviction drives poaching networks to heinous acts. Rhinos are left for dead, their faces disfigured from the hacking of machetes. There is nothing humane about poaching: the animals themselves are nothing but vessels for their hides and horns. Rhino horn is valued more highly than gold, with more than 8000 rhinos being poached within the last decade.

Fortunately, there are a couple of ways to deter potential poachers. Dehorning is one such method. The rhino in question is darted from a helicopter and a vet removes its horn while a trained team takes samples and keeps the rhino comfortable. Indeed, it seems counter-intuitive to remove the horn; don’t the poachers do the exact same? But dehorning removes the possibility of a rhino having to endure the atrocities committed by poachers. It is also a lucrative fund-raiser for environmental NGOs such as Project Rhino, as tourists pay to be a part of the experience. A dehorning is incredibly humbling to witness, and perhaps the best way to demonstrate the gravity of the poaching crisis, for such a measure is not taken lightly. Every rhino in a population needs to be dehorned so that each individual has equal advantage in defending themselves. This results in some hefty expenses, as each dehorning costs around R12 000. It’s also a temporary measure, as rhino horns grow back within 18 to 24 months.

The dehorning was an incredibly weighty emotional experience. We watched from our game vehicles as Mike Toft, the vet, shot a sedative from the helicopter. Within five minutes, the rhino we had been eyeing slowed in confusion, slumped to his knees and lay down. My eyes grew wide as we stepped off the vehicles and drew closer to the fallen beast. The closer we got; the closer reality loomed.

He was gargantuan in the most prehistoric sense of the word. My hand resting on his back, thick-skinned and warm, I started to doubt the dinosaur extinction. His head was nodding close to the ground, and he was breathing in gentle gusts. His front feet were curled under his chest, a posture which I found strangely endearing. The ground team had made sure that the rhino fell in a particular way so that his airways remained clear. I flinched as the chainsaw rattled into gear, and Mike took his position at the head.

The chainsaw is an ugly thing. It seems brutal and violent but is, in fact, the most effective and efficient way to remove the horn before the rhino wakes from his slumber. The uglier alternative is of the poacher’s machete and no sedative. This, at least, is painless, and as stress-free as possible. Under a partial sedative, the rhino breathes unassisted, his ears plugged, and eyes covered. Water is splashed over his back to keep him cool, and the operation itself takes little under a quarter of an hour. Watching Mike saw off the horn was a bizarre experience. Filing my own nails yields the same result: fine flakes of keratin floating to the floor. But my beauty routine is mundane. This is a devastating last resort against poaching. Mike shaved off as much of the horn as possible, as even the smallest stump could entice a hopeful poacher. The final step: Mike roused the rhino from its sedation and made a break for the game vehicle. With a few snorts of bewilderment, the rhino was back on his feet and trundling towards his friend waiting a few hundred metres away.

Despite the financial and symbolic cost of dehorning a rhino, it is a vital step in preventing poaching. At the very least, it buys the conservation sector some time while figuring out the next strategy to end the poaching war.