61. My Last Weekend in South Africa.

On Saturday, I checked the farm with Zander, checking on all the black and saddleback and white impalas.

Then I went to a crocodile farm. Need I say more? I think the pictures do a better job. Plus, it means I have to write less.

So just three things:

1) Never smile at a crocodile...clearly I should have taken that into consideration.

2) You know how in car commercials it'll say "Do not attempt at home" when the actors are doing something really really stupid? Well... I think I need to preface these pictures with that. NEVER EVER ATTEMPT. I probs shouldn't have done this. Nobody else I was with did... They thought it was funny to feed the dumb American girl to the crocodiles? Well...ok whatever, I got lucky.

3) Random fact for you: crocodiles can lay up to like a hundred eggs at a time. Kinda scary!

What a pretty paradise the breeding crocodiles (90 pairs, 180 crocodiles) live in! 

Sunbathing Crocs

Somebody needs braces :)

And that hand could tear your face off. 

4 and 5-year old crocodiles. They'll be slaughtered for meat, shoes and purses soon. :/
Would you climb in that enclosure with them? 

Because I did just climb in there with them... Not the safest choice I've ever made....

So there was a man waving that stick. He is a care-taker.
And I doubt he'll live much longer...he likes to play with them. 

The farm was located in a beautiful forest area. 

On Sunday, we had caught some klipspringers and moved them to a different farm and gave them some basic treatment. After that, we were done. And Ben and I were just chilling, so he asked me to help him build a new coffee table for his living room. And being the cool guy that he is, this wasn't any ordinary coffee table. Instead of wood, we used old used chopper blades. Naturally. Anyway, it was really cool-looking and I wish I'd had my camera to take a picture because it was awesome and I was quite proud of it. I think he was really happy about it too. We carried it back to his house (oof had to get a serious workout in there) and we put it in his living room and it looked huge. But it was still cool.

While we were putting the finishing touches on that, Ben got a call that a lion had escaped from a reserve and was running loose on the road. Silly lions. So that was our afternoon - helicopter flying to find a renegade lion. Typical. After that, we just chilled for awhile.

At night, the rest of the Osmers family returned from their hunting trip and they brought some hunters from Europe with them. So Sunday night, we had a fancy braai again like the first night, late and outside on the firepit. The food was good and it was nicer this time because I was able to communicate with people and I knew them. So I had a good time. I also made extra certain to help out the cooks and say hi to them and thank them for everything. They were really nice about that. I wish I could have gotten to know them better. Ughhhhhhhh South Africa. Sometimes you make me mad!

Anyway, the hunters had caught a hippo and it was brought back to the farm. We drove down to the meat butchery on the farm to see the hippo. It was huge and gross and smelly. And weird. And very much dead. Lots of dead hippo. I was bored with the dead animal, so while they all took pictures with their trophy and watched it get hauled off the truck, I went and visited the orphaned baby zebras. And cuddled with them and fed them and one of them was nuzzling his little head under my arm for about an hour. It was the sweetest thing ever, like he needed a little TLC. Which I was very happy to provide!
I was sitting under the southern hemisphere stars cuddling an orphaned baby zebra while my host family hauled a hippo carcass off a truck...what a way to spend my last night in South Africa. Then, on the way back to the house before dinner, we had to stop and take a detour because the rhinos were chilling in the road. Refusing to move. So we had to turn around and take the long way back. Oh South Africa. Sometimes you are so uniquely weird and wonderful!

60. Four More Days: Leaving Here. Going There.

Coming Home/Going Home. What is it all about?

I'm ready to go home. But I simultaneously never want to leave. I like this non-reality. I'm afraid to return to reality. But at the same time, I know I need to. I know it's time to. I miss my family and home. And I kinda miss some things about America, mostly that people aren't racist like they are here. Or if they are, they know that they can't be very open about it like they are here. I'm not saying we don't have problems in America. But come here for a while and you'll appreciate home SO MUCH MORE.

One day while I was bored, I made three lists. Lists about going home. First, I made a list of the things I miss about home. THen I made a list of things I'm going to miss about South Africa. Then finally I made a list of things I'm going to try to bring back home.

1) Things I miss:

• American TV
• American radio (especially country music)
• English (I feel left out a lot of the times)
• Mexican food (Chipotle, get at me!) 
• My parents 
• Tiger Lily (my cat)
• Tipsy & Duchess (my dogs)
• friends 
• not having to explain myself everywhere I go all the time...some things I do I guess are just so American
• not having to say hello! No I'm not South African, I'm American. I'm from Chicago (if I say Kansas they just not and smile like ok...), I'm studying abroad in South Africa for a few months....etc
• not having to justify why beef jerky is better than biltong
• HOME
• hugs (haven't had one in ages)
• slightly less racist society
• my car 
• on that note, driving
• my phone

2) Things I'm going to miss:

• rhinos
• dogs, particularly this one on my lap
• the Wildcat (she's so sweet and cuddly)
• this family I'm staying with
• the friends I made here, especially Thurstan and Dillan. 
• being able to order a beer or glass of wine
• rusks (South Africa's version of biscotti, but somehow better)
• tea
• beauty everywhere I look
• all the really nice friendly people I've met here
• the pace of life...it's just slower (people tell me they can tell I'm American from afar by the speed at which I walk!)
• easy airport security 
• dividing prices by 10. 1 US Dollar = 10 ZARand...has been kinda nice
• 85 degree winter days
• when 35˚ means it's hot, not cold (still not used to Celsius...) 

3) Things I'm going to try to bring back:

• openness of mind and heart
• seeing the beauty everywhere - because honestly there is beauty in everything, and sometimes it's easy to forget that closest to home. 
• being excited about lots of things
• being open about talking about things like racial, political, cultural, or religious differences
• boboetie and rusks  (not sure about the latter...or the former really, but I'm gonna try)
• better awareness of how to serve well
• new friendships with people at NU
• self-sufficiency (27 days without financial resources...yeah, I didn't think I had it in me! But it is nice when we surprise ourselves by being stronger than we think we are)
• acceptance of living without some things. For some reason, I think getting my purse stolen in the States would have been more stressful. 
• journaling 
• eagerness to learn from everyone I meet. appreciating differences.
• This little wildcat. I think Lily needs a friend... This cat is way cuter than NU's mascot Willie the wildcat (cough cough). And she'll fit in my carry-on luggage. Ben already said I could have her when I asked. I think he thought I was kidding...   

59. "Let him be the captain of his own soul, the master of his own fate." Farewell, Tata?

So everyone thinks Mandela is going to die. It's all they talk about. Literally between every song on the radio they update South Africans on his status. Everyone is clinging to their phones, their radios, their TVs for the word that he has passed.

"The Life and Times of Nelson Mandela"

Rumors go around that he's on life support. That they might pull the plug on him.

People are criticizing his family for keeping him alive. It's harsh. On the radio one morning while waiting for a farmer to show up to let us into his reserve to treat some buffalo, I heard the host say that they should just let Mandela go, that it's not fair to keep him alive at this point. Then his co-host read the poem Invictus, Mandela's favorite poem (in real life, not just according to the movie).

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul. 

 ~ William Ernest Henley

Then they kept re-reading the last two lines and concluded that it is time to let Mandela be the master of his own fate, the captain of his own soul. It was time to let him go.

On television every night, every commercial break they paused to update the country on his status. And then they would show tributes. The country had basically entered mourning state. It was very strange. 

There is a vibe that everyone is on-edge all the time. Everyone is constantly waiting for that notice on their radio, internet or TV that it will change. But will it change anything? I wonder how long South Africa can sustain this suspense and attention. I think it's not possible to sustain it much longer. Will he pass away while the spotlight is still this crazy? Will he hang on a while longer and the die quietly in his sleep one night when the whole world stops looking? It is so strange that everyone is paying him tribute as if he is already dead but he's still alive. He is worthy of it of course, but it is weird to see and feel. 

What will it mean for South Africa? In reality, he has not done anything himself in the past several years, no public appearances, etc. So nothing should change. Unless it is the idea of Mandela being around, being alive, being present that keeps peace alive in South Africa. It's intense. He is the greatest man alive and his passing will shake the world. But I think it doesn't have to mean chaos and upheaval and strife.

His legacy is one of peace. Yet his family is fighting over his burial ground location and his money. It disgusts me. And as he still clings to life, slowly the attention is shifting towards family scandals over money and fights. It's so sad that someone who was so dedicated to peace has to leave the world amidst this chaos. Can we not sit by and pray for him, for his loved ones, for South Africa's future? Can we not marvel at and thank him for the wonders he performed for this country and the world? Can we not preserve his legacy of peace and hope? Apparently that is too much to ask. 

Read a little bit about his legacy here: http://www.nelsonmandela.org/

The Cape Town Sunday Times' front page headline was "It's time to let him go!" Pretty bold statement.

Mandela is one of my life heroes. It does not matter when he dies, he is one of the greatest people that ever lived. And my hope is that when he dies, the world does not enter chaos and upheaval, but a mourning mingled with joy and hope. Joy at the great things he accomplished. Hope that the world can continue to become a better place and that leaders as good as he will emerge in the future. And I also want either his birthday or death day to be declared a global holiday. Mandela Day or Peace Day or Hope Day or something like that. Something positive and inspirational that will be a tribute to him, a reminder to the tragedies that happen in our world, but a hopeful proof that change is possible if we work for it.

Ok, so that's me being an idealist. Haha!

58. Culture Shocks & Musings.

A series of mini-essays on things I saw in this part of the country that threw me for a loop. Starting easy. Getting harder. (As in all the way to the point where I questioned if apartheid is really over.)

1) Food. They eat very late at night. As in 9:45 or 10pm. They eat meat, meat and more meat. They braais it, inside or outside, but it's meat on the braai that's what's for dinner. I can guarantee that every night.

2) One night - the first night I stayed in the house - I was sitting in the living room watching tv with Mr and Mrs Osmers, and the dogs all started barking and I got a little nervous and Mr Osmers noticed. Then he explained "Oh it's just the rhinos. They come onto the front lawn every night about this time. Stupid rhinos!" Then he got out of his chair to shoo away the rhinos from the front lawn. This activity repeated almost every night. What is normal? I don't know anymore.

3) This place is out in the middle of nowhere. They call it "the bush." Like I live in the country in a very rural part of the States. But I consider this part of the world to be totally isolated. There is nothing but bush and bush and bush and wilderness as far as the eye can see. Kruger isn't far, so there literally is nothing for hundreds of miles in that direction. And in one direction there are mountains about 60 miles away. And every other direction, I guess it's just bush and more bush and game farms. At night I can't see a single light. It's so bizarre. The stars are incredible though. Gonna miss these Southern Hemisphere views of the night sky. I've gotten kinda used to them...

4) People here are OBSESSED with money and prices. They describe everything in terms of how much it costs - in Rand and in US Dollars. It's very strange. They speak in terms of dollars in Afrikaans too I can tell a lot of the time. I'm catching on...haha another month here and I'd be fluent.

5) The hunting and game industry. It takes a very certain type of personality. A type of personality that makes me 99% sure I'd never actually be able to work as a wildlife vet here. At least not in private practice. Ooof. White men with very stodgy ideas about things. Also, it's really weird to me that they're so into animals and conservation but that they hunt and hunt and hunt all day long. Like it's what they do. So confusing to me! I think I'm catching on a little more each day. Hunting brings in all the money to this industry so then farmers can afford to breed and raise animals and then they save species from going extinct...like the sable. So I guess it kinda makes sense. But it's just so counterproductive to me!
They all ask me if I hunt. And if I'm opposed to it. Kinda awkward I suppose. Oh well, that's life in this part of the world.

6) Structure of the farm, employee-employer relationships. Here's where it starts getting sticky. Farm owner: old white man. His wife and children, all lovely blonde Afrikaans-speaking South Africans who only speak with and date other lovely blonde Afrikaans-speaking white South Africans. His farm manager if he has enough money to have one of those, a white man. They all dress in stereotypical safari/hunter gear with the khaki blouses and shorts, the long socks and the little bootie things that cover their boots. They eat biltong and speak Afrikaans all day long. They're very nice and friendly and welcoming. If you're white. But then their employees on the farm are all black South Africans dressed in work clothes in very very bad condition with lots of holes. They are extremely skinny. They speak isiZulu or Tswana or Tshivenda or Sotho to each other but they speak Afrikaans to their bosses. The relationships are extremely strained. The owners/managers bark orders at the farm workers. They treat them pretty poorly. It's really difficult to see. The owners/managers look at me as if I have four heads when I hop in the back of the pick up truck and say hello and introduce myself in Afrikaans to the farm workers. I've picked up enough Afrikaans to be able to say "look out there's a branch!" "it's hot!" "help!" "can you hold this animal's horns." "are you from here?" "do you like working with the animals?" "how long have you worked on this farm?" "where do you live?" ...and as I said, I have three heads and am the crazy liberal American girl who sits with and talks to black farm workers. It's really hard to deal with. And it is what makes me 100% sure I could never work here longterm.

7) Racism. It pervades everything here. Stories are told in terms of the color of skin of the people involved. Good guys are white. Bad guys are black. "The black man does not understand the world." was actually said to me. I laughed and told the person who said it that it wasn't true, that it was racist. All the old white farmers would tell me "Americans think South Africans [meaning of course only white South Africans...] are racists. We're not. Black people are just so....[insert derogatory adjectives of your choice here]..." And I'd say, well see the reason Americans think that some South Africans are racist is because what you just said is racist. And then they'd laugh this big fat belly laugh at me, the crazy American girl who wants to work with wildlife and who talks to black people. This is a male-dominated industry. Ok, that's kind of an understatement. Aside from seeing Mrs Osmers at dinner and while watching TV every night, I did not see a single other female. At all. It was always me and 2-11 guys. It involves a lot of heavy-lifting, but it's an industry very much rooted in its past, and kind of stuck there if you ask me. I do not know if it will last long for this reason.

8) So this whole thing seems kind of like a pretend life. But maybe that was just the way I feel because it's so unusual for me. For these people, it's their every day real life. So why does it always feel so fake? I think it's because these people have created an artificial world for themselves in which they speak a language heavily tied to old racist ideas and laws. I think it's because they refuse to speak other languages to people, even though they know these languages. I think it's because they have maintained the vestiges of apartheid, the methods of it, for all intents and purposes it still exists there. They live miles and miles and miles from other people (aside from their black employees whom they don't consider people who live in shacks hidden deep within the farms). They have very few real interactions with people except for people exactly like themselves. They watch Afrikaans soap operas on TV. They own every single apple device that has ever been created. They try to isolate themselves from diversity, from other cultures, from any ideas that might prove that their racist ideals are wrong. ok, so I kind of vented, but this is all true. It breaks my heart.

10) I went to the BJ Voerster Farm. Still can't get over that. They referred to him as the former president of the country. Not true. The country is the Republic of South Africa, RSA. Founded in 1994. Didn't exist when BJ was president. That was apartheid South Africa. Don't try to make it seem normal. I see what you're trying to do there... Not cool. That farm was also the most racist, not surprisingly.

11) Poaching. Is a weird cultural factor. Plays very seriously into racism. Black people poach. maybe it's because they have no money and their kids are starving and dying so the prospect of killing one animal they see in the field that will give them a million dollars and will save all their kids' lives obviously makes sense. It does to me anyway. So...yeah.
It consumes a lot of the conversation. It's on everyone's mind. There are signs and posters about it everywhere. I think the little dehorned rhinos look cute with their stubby flat horns. :)  Believe me, I want poaching to end as much as the next rhino-obsessed conservationist. But I am afraid it's an extremely complicated issue.  The last Friday night I was in South Africa, poachers cut the fence at the Osmers' farm and broke in. One of the rhinos on the farm had a bullet wound in it and Bossie wasn't able to remove the bullet without risking killing the rhino, but he cleaned the wound and it already started healing up quite nicely.

12) All the white South Africans here speak English, but they only like speaking Afrikaans. I usually sit there in silence while they all converse in Afrikaans. Every ten minutes or so someone will turn to me and say something in English. Eventually though, I started picking up on what they were saying and would randomly interject just to keep them on their toes about not saying anything nasty about me behind my back. Or I'd ask a question in the middle of their conversation about something they were just talking about. Ha! :) They are all delighted when I speak Afrikaans. So it's a good way to impress and make friends too.

13) Seunde Laan. How I learn Afrikaans...this soap opera called "7th Lane" that's on every single night and is about a bunch of young Afrikaans-speaking people. There are English subtitles though...so I am learning Afrikaans that way. Three months ago, this show celebrated 3000 episodes. HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN?!  Here is a clip form it...

14) Mandela. So the two weeks I was on this internship were the two most critical weeks of Mandela's health ever. Every second they thought he could die. So it kept everyone on their toes. But more about that later.

57. No Longer Just a Shadow

Monday 24 June - Friday 28 June


This week I got a lot of chopper time, I got to work on a lot of species, not just rhino and sable. And I also got to do even a lot more doing, not just watching. Bossie put a lot of faith in me. He'd go off in the chopper and dart a bunch of animals leaving me behind on the ground to administer everything to the animals and even wake them up when it was over. I gave them all antibiotics, vitamins and dewormer and other things too.

Bossie's vet office. Pretty mobile. Plus his dart gun. 

I worked with a bunch of animals that were on a private farm being taken over by the government, so we had to move these animals to reserves or they would lose their habitats, environment, food sources and die. Or get poached (according to the people I was with).

I worked with klipspringer, eland, raon antelope, sable, rhino, more buffalo. I got to care for two orphaned baby zebras, do a hernia repair, cortisone injections for lameness, necropsy on a sable cow worth $500,000 USD who died of a lung infection :(

One of the dogs here had her puppies. 9 border collie puppies on Thursday night, but one of them wasn't making it so we tried to save him with a warm blanket and a syringe full of warm milk and the mother, but all to no avail. :(

We got called to dart a hippo that was hurt, but then it broke its leg so it had to be shot and killed instead. And then we mounted it on a trailer and hauled it back to the Osmers' farm. It was ENORMOUS. Literally biggest thing ever. I totally would have taken a million pictures with it, with my head in its mouth, etc, but it was pitch black since it was pretty late by the time we got it back.

A dog on the side of the road, left behind by some poachers had rabies and looked awful, mangy, sick, lonely and forgotten. So, sadly, he also had to be killed since he posed a serious threat to humans and animals.

I learned a lot about client-vet-patient interactions, customer/client service, how clients can be quite nasty, how people don't like paying vet bills. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I want to do. And yep, I still want to be a vet. In fact, I can't wait. I actually spent a lot of evening time working on my personal statement and other aspects of my vet school application.

Rambo keeping me company while I try to work on my personal statement... 

I learned that birds are dumb and mean and they bite, so their only potential redeeming quality is beauty. Ugly birds therefore are the worst. :P Most notably osriches, Africa's most dangerous animal second-only to hippos. They are aggressive and attack people. And they fight to the death. Had too many near-heart-stopping ostrich encounters for one week. I can tell you the stories when I recover from PTSD. lol. But this is not a joke. I was chased twice by an ostrich with four babies.

I learned that wildlife medicine is about surprises and finding the best balance between nature and intervention. I learned how certain veterinary drugs work and dosing guidelines. I learned about vet med troubleshooting in the bush and what to do if someone collapses from heat stroke (that was Bossie and he asked me to inject him with something...I was like uhhhhh).

I learned how to do a necropsy with an open mind (and preferably closed nose...dead animals' blood stinks!), looking for the unexpected, letting all the organs tell the story, not just one.

I learned that hippos stink, that wound care iodine stains clothes...and fingers, and that if an ostrich is running towards you and his legs are pink or red on the front, you better say your last words. And they might not be something polite.

I learned that baby zebras can't drink straight horse's milk - it has to be diluted, and that they are very affectionate animals.

I learned what the potential causes of sable calf diarrhea are and how to figure out which one is making a calf - or better yet five calves in a herd - sick (epidemiology for the win!).

I learned that some kinds of grass are evil and will attack your feet and ankles.

I learned how to use surgical clamps and put sutures on a wild eland bull's testicles.

And I learned that sometimes, in wildlife medicine, you simply cannot find the animal you're supposed to treat. haha! Yupppp that happened.

And quite frankly, I learned that wildlife vets don't have time to take pictures! Womp womp.

56. Living the Dream: A Day in the Life

Saturday 22 June

Sunrise from the chopper

Very early in the morning, at 5am, I met Ben and we drove to the chopper hanger, just a km or 2 down the really long driveway. He prepped and fueled the chopper while I admired the first glimpse of sunrise.

We then got in the chopper and flew for about 20 minutes straight towards the sunrise to an area of the Timbavati/Kruger where our first job for the day awaited us. (The Timbavati is privately owned by like twenty investors...it borders the Kruger with no fence between the two so animals can roam freely.) He landed and we shook hands with some park rangers and then they spoke for a few minutes in Afrikaans about the heightened poaching incidents of the last few days. When he's not flying a chopper for vet purposes or mass captures, he is hunting down poachers with his chopper. No joke. Coolest person ever!

We got back in the helicopter and began searching for rhinos. When we found about 11 of them, we landed, I got in the back of a pick up truck with a vet tech and a bunch of Park employees for heavy lifting. Then the vet got in the chopper with Ben and the lifted up into the air to go dart some rhinos. They darted two rhinos at a time, then those of us in the truck would follow the chopper to the site where the rhinos had lay down and then we would do our thing. This day's procedures were just microchipping the horns and clipping the ears of each rhino. We had to cover their eyes so they wouldn't freak out.

Herding rhinos with the helicopter

One of the was not very immobilized by his dart, so he stood up and started running and everyone had to run away, there about 2-3 long minutes of panicked silence, then Ben snuck up behind him, threw his coat over the rhino's eyes and the rhino relaxed, the vet gave him an injection of ketamine and then he sat bag down, yielding to the drug and awaiting his turn to be microchipped and clipped and get his horn drilled for DNA sampling. We microchipped both horns for monitoring purposes. We clipped each rhino's ears in a unique pattern to give them identification markers for helicopter or distance viewing purposes. Or, sadly, if the rhino is found dead killed by poachers, it could be easily visually identified. We also connected little DNA samples from the rhinos by clipping their ears. This would be also used to confirm identity should the rhino be poached or poachers caught with horn with blood on it. We drilled a tiny hole in each horn - front horn and back horn. Someone would hold a sample collection cup under the drill site to collect the little swirls of rhino horn ($110,000/kg) just to have matching samples of the horns. Then  we'd inject the microchip into each horn in this hole and then fill it up with glue and a twig to disguise the microchip hole, prevent it from falling out and make the rhino's horn look natural. 

Drilling the horns

Clipping the ears for marking

Ear post clipping. I got to help a lot with this part. 

Time to wake up, buddy!

One of the was not very immobilized by his dart, so he stood up and started running and everyone had to run away, there about 2-3 long minutes of panicked silence, then Ben snuck up behind him, threw his coat over the rhino's eyes and the rhino relaxed, the vet gave him an injection of ketamine and then he sat bag down, yielding to the drug and awaiting his turn to be microchipped and clipped and get his horn drilled for DNA sampling. We microchipped both horns for monitoring purposes. We clipped each rhino's ears in a unique pattern to give them identification markers for helicopter or distance viewing purposes. Or, sadly, if the rhino is found dead killed by poachers, it could be easily visually identified. We also connected little DNA samples from the rhinos by clipping their ears. This would be also used to confirm identity should the rhino be poached or poachers caught with horn with blood on it. We drilled a tiny hole in each horn - front horn and back horn. Someone would hold a sample collection cup under the drill site to collect the little swirls of rhino horn ($110,000/kg) just to have matching samples of the horns. Then  we'd inject the microchip into each horn in this hole and then fill it up with glue and a twig to disguise the microchip hole, prevent it from falling out and make the rhino's horn look natural.

Kruger doesn't dehorn, which I think is stupid. They say it's not "natural" but neither is poaching. They say rhinos are born with horns and look dumb without them. But I say what looks better? An alive dehorned rhino or a dead rhino with its horn - and face - brutally hacked off? So since these particular rhinos were Timbavati/Kruger, there was no dehorning allowed (but on other farms, Bossie did dehorn rhinos). Dehorning isn't a very dangerous process to the animal. It's like cutting hair or fingernails. The only risk comes from sedating the animals during the process. The horn regrows completely every 4 years (~1kg/year).

Anyway, it was a busy day we kept going for many hours and I got to help put on surgical clamps and anti-maggot sprays and help with the whole ear clipping process. My hands and clothes were covered in rhino blood, but I really was living my dream so I didn't care too much. Actually, I didn't care at all. I felt like I was actually taking a stand and using my two hands to fight against rhino poaching.

The runaway rhino who didn't want to go to sleep. 

Me and my friend, the rhino cow. One of the happiest moments of my life...

Rhinos are heavy. 

Olifants River...from the helicopter :) Remember way back when I went on safari and stayed there? 

View from the back of the chopper en route to the far away location 

Cool mountains from the chopper

so!

Bossie and Ben in action

In the afternoon, Ben and I flew back, picked up another vet then flew for about 40 minutes to a faraway farm that had a wounded buffalo cow caught in a snare, and she and her calf were hiding behind a bush on a hillside. Ben and the vet darted her while I waited on the ground in a pick up truck with 4 different things to give her/do to her to clean the wound when she lay down because the chopper wouldn't be able to land on the hillside. It went really well! I got to clean the wound which went all the way around one of her back legs and was about an inch and a half deep. I put some hydrogen peroxide and some iodine in the wound, rubbed it around in there with my finger, sprayed with anti maggot spray. Gave her injections of vitamins and dewormer and then woke her up. She stood up and walked away barely even limping! Success? I think so!

Cleaning the wound

                            

After that, we had to catch a sable bull on the mountain which was challenging in terms of driving up the mountain, loading him on (building so many muscles these weeks) and even more challenging in terms of riding down the mountain with a tranquilized sable bull on the bed of the pick-up truck. We put him in the field where he needed to be with cows since he was now considered sexually mature and healthy. Then Ben, Bossie and I flew back to the farm for dinner, my nightly TV session with Judy watching Seun de Laan (Afrikaans soap) and much needed sleep!

What a perfect day!