Solitary Presence
Standing His Ground: A Silent Encounter with a Dehorned Rhino at Dusk.
There are moments in the bush that demand nothing but silence.
As the light began to soften into the gentle palette of dusk, tinged with streaks of pink and burnt orange across a partially clouded horizon, we came to a slow halt. The vehicle eased to a quiet standstill in the Sabi region of the Greater Kruger, and all that was left was the hush of the bushveld wrapping around us like a held breath.
Then came the snort.
A short, deliberate warning—forceful enough to break the stillness, yet measured, controlled. It wasn’t a challenge, but a message. The white rhino before us had heard us coming long before we saw him. And now, as he faced us squarely in the open clearing, he made it clear: he was watching, aware, and not to be taken lightly.
He stood alone. Broad and heavyset, his body a sculpted mass of dusty resilience. But where there should have been a regal horn arcing towards the sky, there was only a rounded nub—evidence of precaution and loss. The practice of dehorning has, in recent years, become a desperate measure to protect rhinos from the poaching epidemic that continues to decimate their numbers. But it comes at a cost. The horn is not only a target for traffickers; it is also a tool, a symbol, an identity. Without it, the rhino’s silhouette feels incomplete, and yet the weight of his survival seems even heavier.
We had been searching for hours. In these parts, sightings of rhino have become increasingly rare. Years of relentless poaching have not only reduced their population but have also made them acutely cautious of human presence. And who could blame them? In the rhino’s world, the scent of humans often brings violence.
Our guide had sensed it too—the tension, the pause in nature’s rhythm. So, we stopped the vehicle and waited. Slowly, the natural soundtrack of the bush returned. The rustle of grass. The distant, haunting call of a snake eagle gliding above. The low whisper of the wind moving between trees, brushing against our arms like a presence, yet not disturbing the moment.
The rhino did not move at first. He stood firm, facing us, eyes narrowing just slightly. This wasn’t a territorial stance, nor a sign of aggression. It was something more profound—a weary vigilance. In his presence, we weren’t spectators, we were participants in a quiet ritual of mutual observation. He was not afraid, but he was ready. The scars of his time had taught him caution, not retreat.
After what felt like a long, still silence—perhaps a minute, maybe more—he exhaled again, a softer snort this time, as if letting go of the moment. Then, with a subtle turn of his bulk, he shifted his weight and trotted calmly into the bush, his movements dignified, purposeful. The dry grass brushed against his hide, his ears flicked at the passing of birdsong, and soon he disappeared behind a curtain of mopane trees.
He left us with more than a sighting. He left us with a message of survival.
The Tragedy of the Numbers
In 2023, 499 rhinos were killed for their horns in South Africa—a country that remains home to the world’s largest population of both white and black rhino. That’s approximately one rhino every 15 hours. Though areas like the Kruger National Park have seen a decline in poaching incidents, the figures still represent a harsh reality: the threat is far from over.
In 2024, the numbers saw a glimmer of hope. A reported 420 rhinos were poached—representing a decrease of over 15%. While this may offer some reprieve, experts caution against complacency. Rhino poaching today is not simply the act of desperate individuals. It is fuelled by transnational crime syndicates, deeply entrenched in illicit trade routes and corruption. The horn, composed primarily of keratin, holds no proven medicinal value, yet demand continues in certain global markets where it is viewed as a status symbol or falsely believed to have healing properties.
Combatting this crisis demands more than protection on the ground. It requires regional cooperation, international partnerships, intelligence-led investigations, and community-led conservation efforts.
The Subject Behind the Story
The rhino in this image is a southern white rhino—a species that once teetered on the brink of extinction in the early 1900s before conservation efforts in southern Africa brought their numbers back. Today, their survival hangs once more in the balance.
The dehorning of rhinos is a strategic choice made by conservationists in many reserves, including parts of Kruger and surrounding private concessions. It is done under anaesthesia by trained professionals and does not harm the animal physically, though the psychological and social effects are still being studied. The intention is to make the animal less of a target—if there’s no horn, there’s less reason to kill. Yet as seen across multiple reserves, even dehorned rhinos are not immune to poaching. In some cases, poachers will kill a rhino regardless, to avoid tracking the same animal again.
Raw Africa Collection
Welcome to Africa - the wise, the restless, the life giving.
This soulful land of dreamers gives rise to the underbelly of a beautiful gentle beat that is only heard by those who listen for it. This photographic journey explores, profiles and captures what I hope is the heart and soul of Africa's true wilderness kingdom. From its deep bush to its dry savannah and desert, Africa remains a place where life is represented by timeless vistas that are distilled into moments to treasure.
This image was captured in late June 2023 during the golden hush of evening in the Sabi region of Kruger National Park.
Canon EOS M50, with an EF-M 15–45mm f/3.5–6.3 IS STM lens. Photo image details: Focal Length: 38mm, Shutter Speed: 1/160s, Aperture: f/5.6, ISO: 250
