A Rhino's Rage

This article was originally written as a factual account but has since been slightly dramatised for your reading pleasure so some names have been changed and additional conversation added; the rest of the details remain a true account of the event. Enjoy J

A Rhino’s Rage

Not many people have been charged by an angry, short-sighted rhino – even fewer have lived to tell the tale. John King has successfully managed eight rhino charges during his career as a safari operator and wonders how many more of these enraged beasts he’ll have to face in the coming years. “I’ve been in rhino charges where I’ve had to use my hat to hit the rhino on the head and shout to chase it away. In most cases this sort of thing has worked.”

“But it didn’t work this time though, John. What happened?”

As John relates his story I find the hairs on the back of my neck rise in empathetic fear.



John in a reflective mood

As a safari operator in Zimbabwe, John, frequently has foreign guests who are keen to see the local wildlife in its natural habitat and are always particularly eager to snap a black rhino for their photo album. They don’t expect to come into within snorting distance of the prehistoric animal, nor take home physical scars as a memento of their visit. The following chain of events is an extremely rare occurrence because safari operators have robust safety measures in place and stringent precautions are always taken. Nevertheless, Africa is an unpredictable continent and there is no place more unpredictable than the natural territory of creatures older than time itself.



“Liz and Barry should be here by lunchtime” John remarked casually to his wife as he got dressed that morning. “I’d better get Kosana out to track down a rhino for them.” His wife mumbled something sleepily and ducked her head under the sheet – it was far too hot for anything heavier, although the pale pink fingers of dawn promised a cooler day today. John smiled and kissed Susan’s hair before leaving in search of his best scout, Kosana, and found him sitting beneath an acacia tree swatting absentmindedly at the blood sucking midges that would disappear once the full heat of an African sun came up completely. “Morning, chief” John greeted the older man.

“Sawubona isikhulu” Kosana replied in a deep rumbling voice and continued to swat the relentless midges.

“The tourists are arriving today. They want to see obhejane (rhino). Take the men with you, then let me know when you find one, okay?”

Kosana nodded and got to his feet in one smooth movement, swinging the .303 rifle over his shoulder he disappeared towards the farm compound to collect the other two scouts. John went back to the large, rambling farmhouse which had a wide veranda running the full circumference of its ample size. As custodian for 14 of the 15 black rhino in the Midlands Conservancy he had no doubt that Kosana would soon track down one of the animals and their foreign visitors’ desire would be fulfilled. ‘All in a day’s work’ he thought idly. He had no reason to think that today would be any different to the hundreds of days before it and it wasn’t long before Kosana radioed through with news that a black rhino had been spotted. It was mid-morning, the sun continued to rise steadily and not a cloud besmirched the bright blue sky; John slapped on his battered old cloth cap before facing the searing temperature outside. The incessant screech of cicadas had taken over where the blood sucking midges had left off and John winced as their high-pitched mating calls assaulted his ears. As the minutes ticked by John grew increasingly concerned that the rhino spotted around 10 o’clock that morning would have moved off before his visitors had an opportunity to see it. He scanned the dusty driveway which consisted of two dirt tracks worn away over time and was relieved to see the faint telltale sign of a dust cloud which heralded the arrival of Liz and Barry. Lunch was a quick, almost haphazard affair as John rushed them through their meal fearing that the rhino would soon move too far from the initial sighting place and require lengthy tracking again.

The safari jeep and driver sat outside the main farmhouse, its engine running – strangely silent for such a behemoth vehicle. John stood in front of Liz and Barry and proceeded to launch into his routine safety speech, “Now remember, you’ve got stay absolutely quiet. And whatever you do, make sure you stay downwind of the rhino.” he stressed.

“Yes, yes. Got it” Barry replied impatiently.

“I mean it, Barry. It’s really important.” John insisted and added sternly, “If there’s the slightest hint of danger then you’ve got climb the nearest tree, or get behind it. And if there aren’t any trees around then RUN!”

“Run?” Liz queried with a small catch of breath. She pushed back her wide-brimmed straw hat nervously and searched John’s face for any hint of a sign that he might be joking but his steely blue eyes gazed back at her unflinchingly and his mouth remained unsmiling.

“Yes,” John nodded grimly, “Run. If you can’t run then lie flat on the ground face down and put your arms over your head for protection”.

Liz nodded silently then turned towards her husband, “Maybe we should think about this, Barry. Perhaps it’s not such a good idea after all.”

“Nonsense!” Barry scoffed, “We’ve come all this way – half way round the world, for goodness sake. Now you want us to turn around without even seeing what we came here for?”

“Yes, okay. You’re right” Liz agreed with some apprehension.

“I’m not telling you this stuff to scare you, Liz” John said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “I’m telling you this to keep you safe. An angry, or startled rhino is not something you want to mess around with.”



Kalahari Christmas Tree

By the time John, his visitors and Kosana, the scout, arrived at the initial sighting area the black rhino had moved off. John felt a stab of frustration and asked Kosana to send one of the younger scouts onward to track the animal again; within a couple of hours contact was established. The intrepid group had just passed through fairly dense undergrowth, primarily consisting of Chinese Lantern scrub more commonly known in Southern Africa as the Kalahari Christmas tree, when they suddenly came upon a clearing. Not more than about 30 metres away stood the rhino’s young calf. Its mother, named Deli and since renamed ‘Daily’ because of her frequent charges, was nowhere to be seen. The small group stood rooted to the spot hardly daring to breathe as they watched the young calf wander without a care in the world.

Clearing where Deli was encountered

When protecting her young a mother’s fury can be an awesome thing but when that mother is a one-tonne black rhino the experience is terrifying. Seemingly out of nowhere the one-tonne mass of black armour hurtled out of the scrub, snorting in anger as she charged at the group. John shouted loudly in an attempt to divert Deli from her course and his attempt was more successful than he had anticipated. For an animal so huge, Deli changed course in mid-stride without missing a step and came thundering towards him. At almost the last second John neatly side-stepped the charge, mimicking a bullfighter’s movements – all that was missing was the matador’s red cape. He threw himself to the ground, covered his head and lay hoping Deli would not decide to stomp on him.

Clearing from the group's perspective when they arrived

Having missed her victim, Deli came to an abrupt halt and retraced her steps. She snorted loudly so close to his head that his hair rose in the whoosh of warm hair she expelled, then she nosed John’s inert form as though wondering whether she had destroyed the imagined threat to her calf. Like the other 14 black rhino of the Midlands Conservancy, Deli had been dehorned some years before and although still about two feet long with the horn’s brutal tip removed the remainder of it presented no real threat. John was therefore not concerned about being injured by Deli’s horn, his main apprehension was the sheer weight of the animal and whether she would decide to use this considerable weight to squash him like some annoying bug.

Once Deli had decided that John no longer presented a threat to her calf she moved away and he very cautiously raised his head to survey the scene. “Got away lightly this time” was the phrase that kept racing through his mind. As John looked about him he saw Barry, not three metres away, flat on his back with Deli’s horn curved beneath the man’s knees, raising Barry’s lower legs off the ground completely. “F***” John swore in shock and disbelief. To draw Deli’s attention away from Barry, John yelled and once again Deli charged at him but this time, John’s reflexes were not quick enough. He took a full charge in the stomach and was horned in the right hand side of his abdomen.

John was knocked unconscious and remained comatose for about a minute. During that time, Deli must have pushed him to and fro with her nose, ensuring that this time the threat had been truly vanquished. When John regained consciousness and found that he could not breathe

With his trusty handheld radio

he feared the worst and fumbled for his handheld radio to call in a ‘Mayday’. After about half a minute he finally regained his breath and realised that he had just been severely winded. He managed to get onto his hands and knees when he noticed that he was bleeding from the mouth. Once again imagining the worst he wiped the blood away so that his visitors would not see it and become alarmed. The cause of the blood was to become something of a joke in the weeks ahead once it was established that the injury was the result of a Chinese Lantern thorn having pierced his upper lip!

John realised that shock would soon set in and he began talking quietly to Barry in the hope of delaying its onset. Meanwhile, Liz, was curled up tightly in a foetal position a few metres away – much like a hedgehog or pangolin in defence mode. John constantly asked Barry if he was all right and received affirmative reassurances. He says, “If I’d known them better I would have burst out laughing. Barry looked so funny. His hair was awry and his glasses were askew.” A short pause and then John adds, “Out of this whole horrific experience I keep remembering something Liz said to me. When I asked Barry if he was all right I called him Brian and she said, ‘His name isn’t Brian – it’s Barry!’ Strange, hey?”

“I stood up and checked everyone for injuries. Liz, had only sustained external injuries so I took off my shirt and wrapped it around her leg which had been cut open by the thorny scrub.” John pauses for a moment and his eyes glaze over as he disappears briefly into the memory. Then with an almost perceptible shudder his eyes clear and he continues with his story, “The 4-inch cut did require stitches but apart from shock, Liz seemed to be fine. Barry, didn’t appear to have any injuries other than scratches, bruising and shock. All in all we got off pretty lightly.” It was only after the visitors were checked by doctors in Harare that it was discovered that Barry had suffered a cracked vertebrae, this wasn’t detected by doctors at the local clinic when the group received their initial medical treatment.

“Although the scouts followed correct safety procedure and had run away as soon as Deli had begun charging, they should have made sure that the clients were with them when they ran from the scene.” John explains that the scouts are there to protect both the clients and John and that they carry rifles in cases of extreme emergency – of course shooting an animal would be an absolutely last resort. When John had called in his earlier ‘Mayday’ one of the scouts had responded by returning to the area and attempted to fire over Deli’s head to scare her off; but as luck would have it, he had three misfires with the .303 that he was carrying – raising the already palpable tension several notches higher.

After her last charge against John, Deli herded her calf away from the imagined danger and was now out of sight. With the aid of the scouts, John, Barry and Liz made their way back to their vehicle which was some 500 metres away. John then used his radio to inform his wife of the events and ensure that she was prepared to treat their visitors for shock. They made their journey back to the homestead, which took about 40 minutes, in total silence. On arrival the doctor was called and preparations made for the journey to the clinic, some 65 to 70km away. At the clinic the visitors’ injuries were attended to as outpatients whilst John was kept in overnight for observation. He was bleeding internally and the Midlands Air Rescue Service (MARS) were contacted for an airlift to the main hospital in Harare.

John related the story of his ambulance ride from the clinic to the local airstrip with a great deal of ironic mirth. “The ambulance driver stopped so violently at stop signs that my head hit up against the bulkhead of the vehicle. He turned corners so fast that I had to cling to the nurse to prevent myself from falling off the stretcher. When we arrived at the airstrip they removed the stretcher from the ambulance and the wheels promptly fell off!” 

John remained in hospital for a week and underwent an operation to remove part of his intestine which had been ruptured during Deli’s final charge. Two weeks later, to the day of the accident, John was out with a Japanese party of photographers who also wanted to sight black rhino. When I asked him if the events of that day still haunt him, John shrugged and replied confidently, “No. I’m more cautious and wary now, but I’m not overly concerned”. 

I thank John for his time and he leaves me with these parting words: “People need to remember that coming face to face with a wild animal in its own territory is not a walk in the park. The animals have the right to be there – we’re just temporary visitors. Every effort must be made to ensure that they’re not injured in any way. That’s on us.”