|
To the minds of most
environmentalists, the ham-hand of government is needed to protect wildlife.
Private property be damned — the government
must step in, otherwise every species on the planet will be hunted into
oblivion, or human development will gobble up all remaining wildlife habitat,
leading to the complete extinction of all species.
However, on the African plain it's
just the opposite. From the van leaving Hoedspruit
airport to the Thornybush Game Preserve, we saw nothing but mile
after mile of African savannah, enclosed in electrified fencing (and at one
point an ape bounding across the road). Although government-owned Kruger National
Park is nearby, the area is dominated by private game reserves, with
ecotourism being the primary driver of the local economy.
If not for these private game
reserves, a number of species would be extinct. Because people like the four
in our party are willing to pay to see the "Big Five" and
so much more, the populations of a number of these animals are thriving.
The game-reserve experience, while
a good deal dependent on serendipity, is in the hands of human expertise and
experience. The Thornybush accommodations, meals,
and service are first class. But you go for the game: the experience of a
lifetime, seeing animals up close, in the wild, that you've only seen before
in picture books or cooped up in zoos.
Arriving in the afternoon, our
first safari would begin with refreshments in the late afternoon. As I sipped
on lemonade, an unassuming young Afrikaner approached me by name, introducing
himself as Werner (pronounced "Verner").
Werner would be our game ranger for our four safaris.
To the uninitiated, the game ranger
might appear merely to be the driver of the vehicle, carrying up to ten
guests plus a tracker perched precariously on the front of the hood. And that
would be impressive enough, negotiating the labyrinth of winding dirt roads
that weave through the 11,000-hectare reserve. The roads are narrow, deeply
rutted, and in some cases close to nonexistent, as a 36-hour downpour of 17
inches a couple weeks prior to our arrival made many roads next to
impassable.
But in addition to his driving
skills, Werner offered an encyclopedic knowledge of the Thornybush
flora and fauna. Not just names but mating habits, gestation periods,
digestion, and who-knows-what-all about the 147 mammals, 114 reptiles, 507
birds, 49 fish, 34 amphibians, 970 grasses, and 336 tree species that inhabit
the private reserve.
Werner introduced us to Orlando,
our tracker and Werner's partner in making our experience unforgettable.
Orlando hails from a nearby village where he returns for two weeks to be with
his family after working six straight weeks.
As he loaded a Winchester .375 rifle, Werner warned us that the animals are dangerous,
and he cautioned us not to stand up in or extend our arms out of the side of
the vehicle.
Werner was in constant
communication on his radio with other rangers and at the same time having a
running dialogue with Orlando in Fanigalore,
a Bantu/English hybrid language used in South Africa's mines, allowing
workers from various parts of Africa to communicate.
While sightings of impala and
wildebeests are common, the Big Five are more elusive, so the game rangers stay
in constant radio contact to tip each other off to a sighting or fresh
tracks. Rangers are only allowed to leave the road to track one of the Big
Five.
During our first evening, what we
encountered most was the golden orb
spider, which takes a week to spin an elaborate web from brush to
brush across a road. The golden orb, Werner assured us, is harmless, but the
prospect of a face full of their sticky web and having the spiders crawling on
us in the evening dusk was less than appealing.
After destroying the work of
various golden orbs, Orlando's right arm suddenly pointed, and Werner hit the
brakes, startling a male black rhino, who, with a female companion, was
taking an early evening mud bath (see photo).
We would see both black and white
rhinos during our safaris, huge lumbering beasts that sport horns prized in
China and Vietnam for medicinal purposes. According to
the BBC, "The black market price of rhino horn is now in the
region of £35,000 ($55,000) per kg."
South Africa is home to 70 to 80
percent of the global rhino population, and with the rhino-horn trade being a
multibillion-dollar-a-year business, last year 450 rhinos were killed by
poachers in South Africa.
Private game reserves do all they
can to ward off poachers. After all, rhinos, as members of the Big Five, are
rare and expensive to replace. But at government-owned Kruger National Park,
four park employees were recently arrested for being accomplices in a
rhino-poaching operation.
"I am personally saddened to
discover that some of our own would so callously abuse the confidence and
faith that we have entrusted upon them," says Sanparks
head David Mabunda.
Mr. Mabunda
may be sad, but as Walter Block makes clear, "Like public servants the
world over, these may be well-meaning people, but they have no real monetary
incentive to perpetuate the species."[1]
Professor Block points out that governments are inept at stopping poachers, and
low-level government workers are susceptible to bribes and corruption.
The legalization
of rhino-horn sales is actually being discussed in South Africa,
but environmental groups like the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) are vehemently
opposed to the idea. "We understand the need to come up with new ways of
combating the rhino horn trade but we are against the notion that legalising it is the answer," said Morne du Plessis, of WWF in
South Africa.
"How can we control legal
rhino horn trade when we can't even control illegal trade.
There are too many unknowns for us to even start thinking in that
direction," Mr. du Plessis said.
This is not a new debate. Dr. Block
wrote over 20 years ago that countries inhabited by rhinos make it close to
impossible for farmers to domesticate rhinos for profit. Instead, there
continue to be "only bureaucrats intoning platitudes about the
importance of refraining from hunting the beasts."[2]
Commercialize the rhino trade, and
rhino farms would pop up — and at the same time the rhino supply would
flourish. For instance, 60 Minutes reported
recently that many African species are thriving on private
hunting lodges in Texas.
The game reserve is not a place to
sleep in. Everyone receives a 5 a.m. wake-up call, and the game rangers like
to start their morning safaris by 5:30. The February morning air had the
perfect amount of crispness as we anticipated more Big Five sightings.
Very near Thornybush's
main lodge is an airstrip, and first thing, we spotted two lionesses lounging
near the pavement enjoying the cool morning air. Werner pulled our vehicle
very close to the lions, but they only yawned, showing little concern or
interest.
We would actually see the entire Big Five during our two
safaris that day: lion, African Cape buffalo, African elephant, rhino, and
leopard (the shyest). The phrase refers to the five most difficult animals to
hunt on foot.
The big, powerful animals seem tame
around the vehicles, but they are still wild and unpredictable. If we forgot
this was dangerous country, the eight-foot black mamba slithering
across the road snapped us out of it. It's the longest, fastest venomous
snake in the world — and aggressive to boot. Also, each night after
dinner, a member of the Thornybush staff would walk
us to our cabins, as unaccompanied guests at game reserves have fallen prey
to leopards.
Werner and Orlando had managed to
show us most everything we could expect on a camera safari. Plus, when a
member of our party posed astronomical questions as we rolled toward the
lodge under a blanket of stars, Werner stopped the vehicle, pulled out a
laser pointer and turned into Galileo.
We still had one safari left and
hadn't seen a male lion. We told Werner and Orlando that their job was to
find the king of the jungle. It didn't happen quickly, and unlike the other three
outings we seemed to go in circles. We came upon a couple of lazy white
rhinos. Interesting, but not lions. Giraffes. Ho-hum.
Werner and his partner were taking
the lion instruction seriously. Our game ranger was clued into a sighting of
tracks by another vehicle and Orlando seemed sure a lion was nearby.
Orlando had Werner stop, and he
jumped off the vehicle to walk into the bush. Then we heard it — like
sitting in the front row at the start of an MGM movie! Orlando wheeled, ran
toward the vehicle, and jumped on to his seat. Werner started into the brush
toward the roar.
Three lionesses and a male were
looking expectantly up a tree. In the tree, a leopard with
a fresh baby impala kill (see photo). Leopards and lions may be cats,
but they aren't friendly. They're fierce competitors, and the leopard was at
a distinct disadvantage.
Werner thought the leopard might
wait the lions out. Lions don't climb easily. But the leopard became nervous;
whether it was the lions or our vehicle is unsure. The leopard suddenly
leaped down from the tree — 15 to 20 feet — and ran for the tree
in front of our vehicle, with the lions in hot pursuit. We were stunned.
Werner quickly backed up.
Again the leopard jumped down and
ran up another tree just escaping the lions. Werner was concerned that we
were putting the leopard in danger. He pulled the vehicle around near the
tree where the leopard had left the dead impala draped over a branch.
Soon the lionesses came back, and
one ventured to climb and retrieve the kill. The 300-pound cat made it up the
main trunk, claws gouging the tree's bark. Then things got tricky. The impala
was hanging just out of the lion's reach. The cat carefully adjusted its
weight, trying to balance on a limb that allowed enough stability to reach up
and grab the impala.
Finally, the impala was secure in
the lioness's jaws. But now the hard part. While leopards have a locking
wrist or anklebone that aids in climbing and descending, lions' ankles slide
sideways under their body weight.
Meanwhile, the two other lionesses
waited calmly under the tree, hoping to scoop up a falling impala. But the
lioness held on, clumsily sliding down the tree trunk. With the kill secure
and now on terra firma, the lioness carried the impala into the shade of a
bush. The king of the jungle quickly showed up to join her.
It's the prospect of witnessing
this kind of drama that tourists pay money to see, and it's the market and
private property that make it possible, at the same time providing the
incentives to protect and revitalize what were once endangered species. As
professor Block makes clear, "there is no intrinsic conflict between the
market and the environment."
Government's good intentions have
done little to protect endangered wildlife. It is only private property and
market pricing that will protect these majestic creatures for future
generations to marvel at and enjoy.
[This article originally appeared
in the Free Market. You can
subscribe by becoming a member.]
|
