From an airport lounge, where conservation debates pair surprisingly well with free wine.
A lot has happened over the last month and, true to form, I’m writing this from the comfort of an airport lounge far too early for my flight. I suppose that’s what happens when two people with hyperfocus end up dating. One says, “We should leave early just to be safe,” and somehow you arrive before the airport has fully woken up.
Not that I’m complaining.
There’s cheesecake.
And wine.
And neither of them appears to have a boarding time.
Looking back over the last month, quite a lot has happened. Donald Trump decided that…actually, no.
Wrong audience.
Did you really think I was about to wander into politics armed only with airport wine and questionable life choices?
Absolutely not.
Well… almost.
Because something did make the headlines this month that I think deserves a conversation.
The High Court recently overturned South Africa’s ban on the legal trade of rhino horn, and almost immediately the internet did what the internet does best: everyone became an overnight conservation biologist.
Now, before anyone starts sharpening pitchforks, I understand the concern. And yes, governments across much of Africa have a remarkable ability to look directly at a problem while somehow seeing something entirely different. That part isn’t exactly breaking news.
But I actually find myself agreeing with the ruling.
Here’s why.
A living rhino is expensive.
Very expensive.
Security teams, helicopters, fences, veterinary care, monitoring… none of it comes cheap. If a live rhino becomes financially valuable through a regulated legal horn trade, suddenly there’s a reason to breed them, protect them and invest in them over the long term.
The value shifts from a dead rhino to a living one.
That’s the crucial bit.
And whether we like it or not, private conservation has carried an enormous amount of South Africa’s rhino story over the past few decades. Without private breeders and private reserves investing staggering sums of money into keeping these animals alive, we’d be having a very different conversation today.
It’s not a perfect solution.
Nothing involving humans ever is.
But sometimes conservation isn’t about choosing between good and bad.
It’s about choosing between possible and ideal.
And unfortunately, wildlife has never had the luxury of ideal.
Anyway…
Enough about rhinos before somebody accuses me of trying to overthrow Parliament from an airport lounge.
This past month has otherwise been an absolute cracker.
Three months into Madikwe now, and it finally feels like the reserve is starting to become home rather than simply somewhere I work. The roads are familiar, the regular sightings even more so, and I’m slowly learning that when someone casually says, “Addo’s just around the corner,” what they really mean is, “Prepare to lose the next hour of your life in the best possible way.”
Addo and Matata have been particularly entertaining this month.
From mating behaviour to somehow bringing down a giraffe. A feat that remains one of nature’s greatest examples of confidence bordering on arrogance. They’ve kept everyone thoroughly occupied. That giraffe, incidentally, also became something of a community project.
For about four days the smell carried, to some, across half the reserve, and with it came one of my favourite animals.
Brown hyenas.
Daylight sightings, too.
Normally these wonderfully scruffy-looking creatures operate under the assumption that humans have no business seeing them before sunset. This month they clearly forgot the memo, and I wasn’t about to remind them.
There were plenty of leopard sightings scattered throughout the month as well, along with multiple expeditions to the far side of Madikwe with my partner in stupid decisions in pursuit of the Five Ditsele males.
Every week needs that one mission.
The one where somebody casually says, “It’s only on the other side, it’s not that far.”
What they fail to mention is that “the other side” is roughly somewhere between Botswana and Zeerust.
Worth every kilometre though.
And then there was Cape Town.
A few precious days with the love of my life before heading straight back into what can only be described as organised safari chaos.
It’s busy season now.
The reserve is full of guests, cameras, hopeful first-time safari-goers and enough excitement to power a small city. Everyone arrives wanting that perfect lion sighting.
The funny thing is…
So do we.
After all these years.
After thousands of game drives.
We still round every corner with that tiny little bit of hope that maybe this will be the morning.
Maybe this will be the one everyone remembers.
That’s probably why I still love this job as much as I do.
Anyway, I should probably go and acquire a second slice of cheesecake.
Possibly a third.
Strictly for conservation purposes, obviously.
I’ve still got another hour before boarding, which should be just enough time for one small nap before pretending I wasn’t asleep when they call my row.
Catch you next month.
Or perhaps somewhere out in Madikwe.
You never know.
Field Guide. Writer. Photographer.
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