Poaching is a last resort for villagers who lost their jobs due to COVID-19 lockdowns. Conservationists now struggle to preserve endangered species. 

They march through the field with chainsaws, the rhinos sedated. What follows is no gruesome act of poaching. It’s the exact opposite. Workers at the Spioenkop Nature Reserve in South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province rev their chainsaws and go to work sawing off the rhino horns. “It has a face mask put on it to cover its vision, it has earplugs put into its ears [...] so that reduces trauma to the animal,” says Mark Gerrard of Wildlife ACT, a nonprofit that protects African wildlife. “We’ve got to remind ourselves that this [a rhino’s horn] is just keratin—this is really just fingernails.” 

These rhinos’ horns will grow back in 18 to 24 months, but in the meantime, poachers won’t hunt them for the priceless commodity. Armed with only chainsaws and sedatives, the conservationists at the reserve are combating Africa’s interminable poaching problem. If a rhino has no horns, poachers have no reason to kill it. This fact doesn’t make the job any easier. “It is a traumatic experience for us,” Gerrard says, “not for the rhino.”

Spioenkop Nature Reserve has fared unusually well in its fight against poaching. Out of 15,600 rhinos in South Africa, 1,175 were killed by poachers in 2014. In 2015, the country began dehorning rhinos to considerable success. By 2019, the number of dead rhinos had fallen to 594. By 2020, it was 394. Nevertheless, Gerrard defines a truly successful dehorning effort as “zero animals poached.”

It will be a hard goal to reach. After COVID-19 effectively shut down international travel, tourism revenue in Africa plummeted, leaving conservationists cash-strapped in their anti-poaching campaigns. Spioenkop Nature Reserve has struggled to patrol its vast territory, but the issue goes beyond just South Africa. Wildlife tourism generates $29 billion each year and employs 3.6 million workers across Africa. The lack of sufficient funds for anti-poaching efforts is a continent-wide problem.

In Zambia’s Kafue National Park, poaching takes place at the edges of the park, where patrols have been cut back. In 2020, the park reported a 170% increase in snares, which snag wild cats. That same year, two lions were killed while none had been slain the year before. More disconcerting, patrollers increasingly find poached animals gored for “buck meat.” Poor local villagers, desperate from COVID-19 lockdowns, have joined poachers in the hunt to earn a living and put food on the table.

By and large, however, poaching is the work of international crime syndicates working in the black market. Some conservationists advocate legalizing the sale of poached items such as rhino horns and ivory to lower the market value, reducing profits for poachers. In Kenya, courts have buffed up their prosecution efforts, leading to a precipitous drop in poaching. Dedicated legal teams actively pursue convictions for poaching, and those caught red-handed face long prison sentences and fines of up to $200,000. Still, the black market provides lucrative opportunities for locals willing to break the law in hopes of amassing a fortune. A 35-pound black rhino horn can be worth up to $2 million. For poor Africans, the opportunity is often irresistible. 

At Mpala, a research center in central Kenya, patrols have adopted a digital approach to combat rampant poaching. They use the SMART app (spatial monitoring and reporting tool) to track every animal a patrol encounters—alive or dead. It also allows them to track people seen infiltrating the parks. Conservationists are attempting to make up in brainpower what they lack in manpower; less tourism revenue led to slashed budgets, which meant fewer patrols. However, park managers agree that addressing the root cause of poaching, poverty, is the best solution to the problem. In this regard, nobody seems to have an answer.

So the traumatic work of sawing off rhino horns in Spioenkop continues. “We cannot let our guard down,” says Elise Serfontein of the organization Stop Rhino Poaching. “The kingpins and illicit markets are still out there, and even losing one rhino a day means that they are chipping away at what’s left of our national herd.” With one rhino’s horn sheared to a nub, the team moves on to the next. The rhino sleeps in the field as they approach. One member revs the chainsaw and begins cutting. White flakes flutter through the air like dust. 

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Michael is an undergraduate student at Haverford College, dodging the pandemic by taking a gap year. He writes in a variety of genres, and his time in high school debate renders political writing an inevitable fascination. Writing at Catalyst and the Bi-Co News, a student-run newspaper, provides an outlet for this passion. In the future, he intends to keep writing in mediums both informative and creative.