Rainstorms and Rhinos: A Trip to Remember | Avula Safaris
The rain came quickly. One moment the sky was its usual pale blue, scattered with lazy clouds, and the next—a wall of grey swept across the horizon, pushed forward by a low grumble of thunder. We were deep in the reserve, tracking a rhino cow for a darting procedure. The kind of work where time, precision, and calm coordination matter more than anything.
It was my first time assisting on a conservation darting. A black rhino had been sighted earlier in the week with a slight limp. The veterinary team wanted a closer look. We had the coordinates, the wind in our favor, and a small window of dry weather to make it happen.
But in Africa, the bush always has its own plan.
We’d barely gotten into position when the rain hit. Heavy, drenching sheets of water turned the red earth to sludge. The rhino, already wary, vanished into the acacia thickets. The receiver’s ping grew faint. The downpour muffled all sound but the hiss of falling water. We took cover beneath the overhang of a rocky outcrop and waited.
There’s a kind of stillness that only exists in the bush during a storm. No engines. No voices. Just the breath of the earth and the occasional snort from a soaked impala in the distance.
Then, through the curtain of rain, we heard it.
A slow, measured crunch of wet branches. The unmistakable shape of a rhino emerged from the trees, steam rising off her back. Her calf trailed close, both unaware of our quiet presence. The vet nodded. This was the moment.
The dart flew with a muted thump.
She startled, trotting off a few paces, then slowed. Within minutes, she eased into a resting position. The team moved quickly and respectfully, checking her limp, treating a minor abscess near her shoulder, and administering antibiotics. Her calf was watched closely but remained calm throughout.
The rain slowed to a drizzle.
I knelt beside her massive head as the vet gently monitored her breathing. Even sedated, she was magnificent. Horn damp, ears flicking slightly, nostrils flaring at unfamiliar scents. It was the closest I had ever been to a rhino. The moment was profound—not just for the proximity, but for the privilege of helping protect such a creature.
When she finally rose—groggy but strong—we watched in silence as she and her calf disappeared once again into the bush.
A Lasting Impression
That afternoon, back at camp, we huddled around the fire to dry off and recount the experience. There was no talk of trophies or distance walked. Only the quiet awe of the encounter.
It was the kind of moment that defines safari not as a hunt or a holiday, but as a relationship—with the land, with its creatures, and with the responsibility that comes from being witness to its wonders.
Be Part of the Conservation Story
At Avula Safaris, we believe in more than observation. We believe in participation. Through our conservation programs, guests may have the opportunity to support or observe darting missions, collar tracking, and wildlife care efforts.
Rainstorms may change the plan, but they never wash away the meaning behind the journey.
