John Bassi
It was going to be another typical semi-desert, Karoo October day with furnace heat shimmering off the dry plains.
According to the forecasts, the wind gusts were to exceed 40 kilometres per hour and temperatures would rise to 48c by 11.00. This combination would become unworkable by 10:00 and so the pressure was on.
Weeks before, the plan seemed simple enough, whilst chattering around a table in an air-conditioned room with mugs of tea.
Management, or human intervention, of wildlife has become a critical component within the sparse islands of wild areas that remain. The interchanging of genetics by relocating animals to and from various game parks is a common example of a management tool, mimicking historical Alpha bull movements.
And so, on this occasion, a decision was made to capture two specific black rhino bulls for relocation into another existing population, to promote genetic diversity.
Our window of working time was critical, as it somehow always is, due mostly to climatic limitations, which in turn escalate other factors, each increasing risk.
There are many logistical issues that must be in place prior to a capture operation. The permits to move animals, dated to coincide with the availability of vets to capture and monitor the transport, special crates, and a flatbed truck with a crane for loading and offloading, staff and security vehicles, a ground team to help with the capture, trackers to help find the rhino in the first place, and lastly, a helicopter.
Daytime weather, wind and high temperatures put time pressures onto such operations, limiting the hours available to safely do the job, indirectly increasing challenges, which are many. Office planning and pre-dated permits seldom coincide with ideal weather conditions.
The objective of this operation was to find a specific animal, based on historical data, knowing the DNA and family history of the animal wanted. A very wild animal, that has had a couple of millions of years on earth to perfect his acute censes, and is lurking somewhere in a vast area, of over 100,000 hectares, which has extremely limited road access.
Trackers go out before sunrise to search for spoor. They may find tracks, but there’s no way of knowing if they were left behind by that specific rhino. This is where the spotter plane should come into the mix, saving time and expense, to search the area without spooking the rhino, confirming its correct identity, or not.
The silenced Rotax engine installed in most Light Sport Aircraft creates little or no disturbance and is ideal for monitoring, whereas, the blade slapping, turbine and tail rotor noise from a helicopter creates fear in the reclusive rhino and they soon run for cover.
The pilots flying the LSA often remark on how calm the rhino are as they circle at two to three hundred feet. Long before the inbound helicopter is visible, the rhino become agitated and start to hastily move away, often running non-stop for many kilometres.
In the perfect world, once the correct animal is identified, the spotter plane, which in this case was a Bathawk, uses its advantage of being able to climb above the terrain, gaining height, in order to communicate with VHF, the rhino’s location to the ground recovery team. The updated information is also communicated to the helicopter to get ready to go, with the vet.
Being in mountainous terrain, communication was poor and limited to VHF line of sight within five kilometres, requiring a fair amount of flying back and forth attempting to raise clear communications.
At the pre-work briefing the previous night, radios were handed out, the common frequency was decided, LSA take-off time noted and deployment of the trackers confirmed along with the locations of the recovery teams and trucks. We were all set as per operations normal.
Since the precise location of the rhino was not known, most of the planning and positioning of trucks and staff was based on an educated guess. Regardless of the best planning, it could take up to an hour for the recovery truck to get to wherever the rhino eventually popped out. It would also take up to 45 minutes for the helicopter to lift, get to the location of the rhino and then coax the animal as gently as possible a few kilometres from its hiding place to a safe location where the recovery would be possible.
Our Standard procedure is: before first light the trackers are deployed and already in hot spot areas. The trucks and team are in strategic positions. The LSA is airborne and sweeping river-lines assisting with covering a large area and ready to immediately move to the trackers should they find fresh tracks, or a rhino. The helicopter team and veterinarian are standing by and ready at the push of the start button.
As soon as a rhino is located, the LSA pilot confirms the identity of the animal and record a GPS co-ordinate. He then climbs away and flies until radio contact is established with the mobile recovery team in the Land-Cruiser and the trucks, whose drivers would be given the best route to get as close as possible to an ideal recovery point.
The pilot will then fly towards the helicopter team, giving an update and an estimate of the time it will take for the trucks to get into position. He will then fly back to the trackers to monitor the rhino’s movements from high up, and co-ordinate the operation from above.
I would only lift off when I knew that the recovery team were in position and the rhino was visual.
All of this had to happen before the ground temperature became dangerously hot, preferably not above 26C, taking into consideration that the helicopter would need to push the rhino towards a safe darting and recovery location, hopefully not more than three to four hundred metres. The rhino would be running hard all this time in the baking sun. It would be further stressed by a very intimidating machine and once immobilized, unable to regulate his core body temperature. The need for fast and efficient work to minimize all this stress, overheating and risk of death cannot be overstated.
On top of all this stress for the rhino, he would then be confined inside a steel container getting bounced about on the back of a truck for at least seven hours, in the heat of the day.
Obviously, with a well-oiled and experienced team, all in radio contact, with the Bat-hawk eye in the sky, what could go wrong?
Unbeknown to us, chaos awaited. Our first challenge was that the LSA pilot decided that he was not going be able to help search and fly due to the possibility of gusting wind. The pilot’s whereabouts were then unknown and there was no further communication.
The next potential problem was that the two teams of trackers who had departed along with three ground vehicles with rangers to various locations as back up, had not left at first light. This would result in a later start, moving into the heat zone.
Then we discovered that the trackers did not have radios and no cell phone signal, and therefore, no communication, with anyone. The recovery trucks were in the wrong place and they too could not be contacted by radio and to top it all, we could not make any radio contact with the three ranger teams in the back up vehicles.
We, the oblivious helicopter crew, waited on the ground for news or an update from anyone out there as to any sign of the rhino. The sun was rising higher, the tops of the trees were rustling with occasional breaths from a warm wind and there was silence in the air.
By taking off too soon in the helicopter, there was the risk that we would spook the rhino deeper into more remote areas. But with no communication and no clue about what was happening, and the temperature increasing, a decision was made to takeoff, fly high and establish communications with the tracking teams, the recovery team and the trucks, gaining an updated overview of the actual situation. From there we would decide on our next course of action, to land on top of a mountain with VHF coms, or to assist with searching.
Little did we know, until later, that none of that would be possible due to a total breakdown of discipline and leadership.