'I knew we were all in danger, but my worry for the rhinos made them the focus'
I fell in love with rhinos when I worked in a zoo in the 80s. I was looking after the largest captive group of rare black rhinos in the world, and spent much of the next 18 years as their head keeper.
There's a popular misconception that rhinos are aggressive and stupid, but underneath their intimidating exterior, I discovered sensitive, affectionate animals. Weighing over a tonne, black rhinos are unexpectedly agile and have a nervous, unpredictable nature ? of course they have the potential to be dangerous if frightened or agitated but, given reassurance, they can be immensely trusting. They have every reason to be wary of humans ? their horns are more valuable per kilo than gold, and in the last 20 years numbers have fallen from around 65,000 to 2,300. In recent years, I've helped look after rhinos being moved to sanctuaries, so they can form new populations in countries that have few left.
Last year, working for the Frankfurt Zoological Society, we flew five black rhinos from a private reserve in South Africa to the Serengeti National Park. Once there, the animals had to be kept captive for a few weeks to allow them to acclimatise, in which time they lived in "bomas" ? wooden enclosures with "bedrooms", designed to create a calm space.
A couple of weeks before they were due to be released, Juliette, one of the keepers, said, "What are all those insects doing?" I looked up to see clouds of them rushing past ? the air suddenly felt even more humid than usual, and the sky filled with smoke.
We ran into the open and I froze, transfixed by the flames rushing through the bush towards us. Controlled fires are not unusual at that time of year in the Serengeti ? park managers start them so grasslands don't turn into woodlands, and to encourage new growth ? but it was clear that strong winds had fanned this one out of control.
Already, the field rangers and camp cook were frantically trying to beat the closest flames away. Juliette and I dashed back to the bomas and called the rhinos to the bedrooms, at the ends farthest from the flames. Sensing the fear in our voices, they moved without hesitation.
Terrified that the bomas would catch fire, my instinct was to release the rhinos, but they hadn't yet been fitted with transmitters ? if I let them out into a bush fire and they were injured, we'd have great difficulty tracking them down. I knew we were all in danger, but my worry for the rhinos made them the focus.
There was a tractor with a trailer full of branches parked between the two sets of bomas and I realised that if it caught fire, the bomas would go up in flames, too. I jumped into the cab, struggling to find the right gear.
By the time I'd moved the tractor to a safer place, the fire was raging all around us. Though I knew I had to act fast, my senses felt numbed. But as I went to move a pregnant rhino to the far end of the boma, I trod hard on a huge acacia thorn ? the pain jolted through me, bringing everything back into sharp focus. It was crucial the rhinos didn't become agitated ? although they may appear indestructible, they can easily cause damage to themselves and each other if they panic. But throughout the pandemonium, the rhinos remained astonishingly calm. Even as the roaring of the blaze and the cracking of burning wood drowned out the rangers' shouts, I tried to keep my voice steady for them and they listened intently.
Meanwhile, the rangers managed to keep the blaze from reaching the bomas. At last, half an hour after the alarm had been raised, the wind changed direction and the noise began to recede. All around, up to a few yards from the bomas, was a scene of devastation ? blackened trees and shrubs that would smoulder for days. The fire had consumed several kilometres of bush, and as night fell it was still visible, raging in the distance.
That we and the rhinos had escaped unscathed was a miracle. The instinctive teamwork of everybody there played a large part, and the rhinos were very much a part of that team. During the most desperate moments, the relationships we'd built up with them had proved crucial ? had they or we panicked, we could have lost them, and all our work would have been in vain. Instead, two weeks later, they were released into the wild, ready to found part of a new population in the Serengeti.
? As told to Chris Broughton
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