On patrol with the rhino cops

Ranger patrols are one of the more misunderstood activities in conservation, as I discover during an anti-poaching patrol. For one, park rangers don’t drive around all day in Land Cruisers counting game from the comfort of their vehicles. In the bush a Land Cruiser can only get you so far.

I contemplate this as we bounce around on the back of a Toyota Land Cruiser bumping down one dirt road after another before coming to an abrupt halt to allow a family of warthogs and a giraffe to cross.

My guide, Jabulani Ngubane, Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife’s Rhino Security Intervention Co-ordinator, turns round to look at me and asks: “How are you with a 5km walk?”

But his mischievous smile tells me it is going to be a lot further than 5km.

I’m there at the invitation of Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife to experience the rigours of a routine anti-poaching patrol. Ngubane is one of a four-man squad accompanying me.

The squad disembarks with their gear, R1 rifles slung over their shoulders, some spare magazines in their tactvests and rucksacks.

The indemnity form I signed in the morning states that should I be shot by a poacher or mauled by a lion, it’s my own indaba. But Ngubane still finds it prudent to remind me of the dangers of even a routine patrol. “Don’t try and out-run anything in the bush, because you can’t,” he warns.

Apparently climbing a tree is the best way to evade most animals. Then, of course, there is the issue of treading quietly. Rangers are particularly good at this, using hand signals or whispers to communicate so as to not alert the animals of their presence.

The wind, Ngubane says, is important too. Rangers always walk into the wind to avoid their scent carrying to animals. Within moments of stepping out into the open plains, a herd of wildebeest about 100m away detects our presence and scamper away.

Johnson Nsibande, the corporal heading the patrol, suggests we circle in the opposite direction of the wind. He arranges his squad in single column formation and leads us off. Ngubane tells me that Nsibande will try to track a rare black rhino, which are the principle victims of poaching.

For the first 40 minutes or so I watch the ground, trying to dodge elephant, rhino and other droppings as if navigating a minefield. Guys like Nsibande step right through it. You can’t stay alert for poachers and dodge poo, he admonishes me.

The patrol reaches the banks of a river. I’m almost certain there is going to be a rubber dinghy to take us across, but there isn’t. What I do see is the rangers removing their boots and socks and folding up their combat cargos. I follow suit but resist asking “How deep is this river?” for fear of sounding like a wuss. After all, it was me who asked for the “real patrol” experience. It turns out the water is knee deep, but I tuck my BlackBerry into my jacket just in case. While crossing the river Ngubane informs another patrol sitting up in the hills that we are crossing the river to make sure they don’t mistake us for poachers.

“They won’t shoot, they can see our uniforms,” Ngubane assures me.

One of the obvious challenges facing rangers working in parks like Hluhluwe-Mfolozi is manpower limitations. You don’t realise the vastness of the reserve until you’ve walked off the beaten tourist track.

Groups of rangers, working in fours and fives, patrol large sects of the 90 000 hectare reserve on foot. Patrols can last up to seven hours and the terrain can be demanding.

The terrain gets noticeably less pleasant. I’m constantly brushing up against thorn bushes and cacti, wincing each time. I suspect the rangers know by now I’m a pampered city boy.

”People ask us why we can’t watch all the rhinos. You can see how big this place is,” says Ngubane. “This isn’t even a full patrol.”

Often the role of rangers can be nothing more than reactionary. They’ll hear a gunshot and then fear the worst. It may take a squad up to three hours to reach the scene of a poaching. By then, the poachers are usually well away.

As a result, Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife has recently placed emphasis on gathering intelligence on poaching syndicates and establishing informant networks to anticipate the movements of poachers. It also helps to monitor the movements of the park’s rhinos.

About 20 minutes after we’ve crossed the river and I’m on the verge of collapse (it’s long past 5km), Nsibande picks up the trail of a black rhino. A few minutes later he spots the droppings of a white rhino.

Finally some action, I think.

Suddenly Nsibande demands silence. He points out a magnificent white rhino about 30m away. The rhino scents us, but won’t move until it knows exactly where we are. I try to edge closer, but a leaf breaks under my boot, startling the creature who cannons off into the bushes. Another ranger then points out that there were actually three other rhinos in the area and I had managed to scare them all off.

We take a short break under a tree, before making the long trek back to the Land Cruiser. Along the way I see the hugest pile of elephant dung, snap a picture and send it to a friend who is boasting on BlackBerry Messenger about the delicious prawn curry he’s about to eat.

I am not too enthused about crossing the river again, but I am pleasantly surprised to spot a baby turtle in the water. The guides wait patiently. Clearly I am holding up the afternoon itinerary and the long walk back through wildebeest country.

“If this were a real patrol, we’d carry on without you,” Ngubane says.

I think I’ll leave the real patrols to the rangers and stick to my shopping mall hikes. - Sunday Tribune