Rhino Wars – On Causes

The original post was written by myself in 2014, One Man's Opinion blog but people said tha the ANC would not be involved in the Rhino killings..... I rest my case.

Firstly, no matter what cause you choose to fight, until the ludicrously high rate of corruption in South Africa is addressed and put right, we stand no chance of success. If by some miracle all the hundreds of causes one sees on facebook could join and fight this common enemy we have a small chance, not of ending the corruption; that is unrealistic even within the realms of miracles, but of bringing it down to “acceptable” norms of this modern society we have created.

The second problem of causes is the amount of armchair warriors we find, they latch on to a cause and sail forth, mainly with a vague half assed theory and fuck all experience. Sitting in a plush chair on an expensive laptop they blow smoke with cyber generated word. My personal pet hate is all the people that post the comments about killing the poachers. It shows not only ignorance but total lack of understanding in general.
Highly emotive, and useless. I too doubt if 99% of the people that cyber scream, that given the chance they would not only kill the poachers but mutilate them as well, could. Killing a man, any man is a ….. difficult thing and changes you for life. They should pray that they never have to.

 Instead of sitting doing a whole bunch of ranting and raving about the rhino, if a percentage got off their backsides and in their posh 4×4 and went into the hot zones, volunteering to help patrol or take out the guys in an APU, which has a broken down vehicle it would do more good for the rhino that the hundreds of hours they waste typing all sorts of shit on their favourite facebook group.
As usual this is… just one man’s opinion.

The Mexican Horse Thief Stories

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Rhino Wars – Leopards and Spiders

Rhino Anti Poaching Stories.

There was a huge old leopard at Palala Rhino Sanctuary; one of the younger rhino bore the scars from an attack when he was a baby. His one ear was torn in two, long ways and drooped, I had never heard of a leopard going for a rhino snack before! I found the leopard’s prints, all around my hut quite often so my drill for going to the toilet at night was as follows:
Open door, check the step for snakes, as there were many night adders about. Use torch to look for shinning green eyes, recheck the ground and then proceed to the open air bathroom. Check for any signs of life, when finish, repeat the process and try get back to my hut undamaged.
My little bird must be after that proverbial worm, he starts pecking at my window just before 5am.. While having my coffee I hear, on the slopes of the mountain to my right, the warning cry of the Baboons. “Borghom, Borghom”. I immediately think, “Leopard!” I rush to get my binocs and before I even lift then see something greyish moving along the slopes. Using the binocs I find a family of Bush Pigs running along, not Warthog, Bush Pig.
They look like the cartoon Boar in Asterix and Oblix. I am not too disappointed, having often heard them in the night I have never spotted one in the bush before. I make my morning notes and then pack my Battle Jacket, where a magazine of bullets is suppose to go now holds a Cannon Powershot camera, the rest of the magazine pockets are largely empty. (A very sore point I will not dwell on here). I have modified the Jacket so my binocs are easily accessible but do not bang around; other pockets hold water bottles and Super C sweets. And of course, my pen and paper.
That night, there I was, minding my own business; reading a book by torchlight while lying on my bed. As it was hot I was shirtless, next thing I get this tickling feeling on my chest, which is hidden from view by the book. Now, I am not paranoid about spiders, not even really afraid of them, that said, I have also seen the damage some of them can inflict.
The problem is, unlike with snakes, I have no idea which spider is harmless and which is not. The one on my bare chest looked similar to the ones I have seen in gardens in Gauteng. Brushing him off and making sure in the dim light that he had really skedaddled I continued reading. Then! Another spider landed on my neck. It ran down my neck and on to my chest in seconds. This kind of spider I have never seen before, shape of a Daddy Longlegs but lime green and pale yellow. I have since learned that it is called a Lynx Spider.

After that I pulled the bed cover right up to my chin, never mind how hot it was.
There was a huge old leopard at Palala; one of the younger rhino bore the scars from an attack when he was a baby. His one ear was torn in two, long ways and drooped, I had never heard of a leopard going for a rhino snack before! I found the leopard’s prints, all around my hut quite often so my drill for going to the toilet at night was as follows:
Open door, check the step for snakes, as there were many night adders about. Use torch to look for shinning green eyes, recheck the ground and then proceed to the open air bathroom. Check for any signs of life, when finish, repeat the process and try get back to my hut undamaged.
My little bird must be after that proverbial worm, he starts pecking at my window just before 5am.. While having my coffee I hear, on the slopes of the mountain to my right, the warning cry of the Baboons. “Borghom, Borghom”. I immediately think, “Leopard!” I rush to get my binocs and before I even lift then see something greyish moving along the slopes. Using the binocs I find a family of Bush Pigs running along, not Warthog, Bush Pig.
They look like the cartoon Boar in Asterix and Oblix. I am not too disappointed, having often heard them in the night I have never spotted one in the bush before. I make my morning notes and then pack my Battle Jacket, where a magazine of bullets is suppose to go now holds a Cannon Powershot camera, the rest of the magazine pockets are largely empty. (A very sore point I will not dwell on here). I have modified the Jacket so my binocs are easily accessible but do not bang around; other pockets hold water bottles and Super C sweets. And of course, my pen and paper.
That night, there I was, minding my own business; reading a book by torchlight while lying on my bed. As it was hot I was shirtless, next thing I get this tickling feeling on my chest, which is hidden from view by the book. Now, I am not paranoid about spiders, not even really afraid of them, that said, I have also seen the damage some of them can inflict.
The problem is, unlike with snakes, I have no idea which spider is harmless and which is not. The one on my bare chest looked similar to the ones I have seen in gardens in Gauteng. Brushing him off and making sure in the dim light that he had really skedaddled I continued reading. Then! Another spider landed on my neck. It ran down my neck and on to my chest in seconds. This kind of spider I have never seen before, shape of a Daddy Longlegs but lime green and pale yellow. I have since learned that it is called a Lynx Spider.
After that I pulled the bed cover right up to my chin, never mind how hot it was.


Taken from the yet unpublished Chronicles. You can find links to the already published series of The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief on my page

THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF.
Please visit and like the page.

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An Open Letter to all the Animal Activists

Donald Trump and The Rhino Wars
It would seem that every person in the world has an opinion and a comment on Trump’s winning the election. As my interest lies more with animals than humans, I cannot say that the illegal immigrant issue moves me. What does worry me is the Trump boys and their trophy hunting. Still keeping an eye on some of the save the rhino sites I see that I am not the only one.
Alas, since I decided that Facebook pages/groups on Rhino Poaching and the majority of the members in such groups were pretty worthless.  – You can TRY and shoot me down on this statement, the comments on my blog are open, so please do.  – Yesterday was no different on the Rhino sites, well, maybe just a little more hysteria than the usual, but not much.  Posts were many; comments flew, most along this vein.
Because of the Trump’s lack of understanding or caring about basic nature conservation most people were doom and gloom prophets. Lots of uppercase and explanation marks. As usual, talk, talk, and very little else.  Mostly insulting Donald Trump and name calling, like kids. I believe that this type of action by that Hilary woman, cost her the election.
So, me with my big mouth, the ultimate armchair warrior according to some of the rhino activists, what am I doing? I have a small plan and I propose to all the other loud mouths to do the same.
Firstly if you want to be a soldier in a war, here we are in a war, the Rhino Wars, first thing you have to do to be victorious is: Know your enemy.
Trump is first and foremost a businessman; forget his personality, such as it is, for a few minutes. Using that start thinking how saving the rhino can help him in his new business; being the President of America. Think about how NOT caring for all endangered species can harm him.
Now think about his personality.  Huge ego of that there is no doubt. This is fine weapon for activists to use to help the rhino. Think of how he can boost this ego, by joining our ranks.
Once you have that as a base of you thinking process, pen a letter to the man, not an insulting one like many of you have most likely already damn sent anyhow, but one that plays on these two weaknesses the man you can only see as your enemy right now. Write a POLITE letter, for heaven sake!  Those of you that have contacts in the media, find the best “Open Letter to…” get as many signatures as you can and get it published, shared and viral.
I hope I have insulted you enough to spur you into some real action.
Please note:  I DO know that there are good people out there that are doing a lot more that I. Please excuse yourself from the above.
Wayne Bisset

aka
THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF
You can read a few tales about my past on the link above, if you wish.


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Sunrise- Sunset Series

As I was doing permanent night Ops in a Rhino Anti Poaching Unit I saw a LOT of sunrise and sunsets. Some were spectacular and I took too many photographs for just one post. So, I thought I would share them "one a day" with you.

The place: Mabula Game Lodge. Bela Bela, South Africa.

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I am also a writer, but have yet to write The Chronicles of this chapter of my life. You can however find my very first written Chronicles here, they took place, in another lifetime, many years ago.

The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief I – Angola.

Rhino Wars – The Internal Enemy

Today, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Selomie proved, to me at least, who she really is. An Internal Enemy of note.  At about 3:30pm I was walking back to my Hut after spending from 6am in the bush doing my thing for these Rhino Wars, an un-marked, or very badly marked helicopter appears, flying low over the bush, it starts circling the property. Man it was so low I could have hit it with a handgun, if I had one.
I immediately sms Lize, my so-called PA, I have very little airtime. I ask her to paste this information on the Save Our Rhino page. I know that will get a lot of attention and very quickly. It will also alert any Rhino owners in the Waterberg as I know it will jump in seconds to all the other pages. Without a weapon this is the best plan I can think of in such a hurry. Surely the cavalry will come? I race back on foot, un-armed to where I know my Rhino are, a few kilometers away. I have no plan, I will have to see what is what when I get there. I am cursing and imagining all sorts of horrid things. What the hell am I to do if they fire at me from the chopper? What happens if they have armed, with AKs, guys on the ground. I run anyhow. I am in the bush where the Rhino were last seen when I get an sms from Lize.
The chopper is an unannounced drill organized by Selomie. Oh, Fuck it! I am too angry to explain it in mere words, the anger and hatred roll over me. Even writing this now the anger is back and intense. The anger then was fuelled by delayed reaction of fear, fear of losing the Rhino, fear of getting wounded badly or killed myself…. Fear and anger, not a happy combination. I sit panting on a rock, I send an sms to Lize stating how STUPID this was. Lize sms’s me back, she obviously told Salomie about my last sms, that Selomie has posted on facebook that the first helicopter drill were successfully done in the Waterberg with the comment, “Wayne thinks this is silly.”
Silly, silly!? It goes way beyond silly, it is bloody criminal. I wonder how many other people nearly had a heart attack over this showboating. One does not do bloody drills in an operational area, full stop. I then calm down and start thinking. Who owns that helicopter? One night after quite a few whisky’s Neil mentioned that Selomie is so good she even got Groenewalt to let them use his helicopter in the “Phila” film. Is this true? Was this Groenewalt machine again?  All sorts of things are going on in my mind. I swop a few more sms’s with Lize, but as Selomie will be her boss soon and she will be stuck here on the farm she has to remain loyal to Selomie, I understand this. I have walked back to my Hut, I need coffee, the white Landcruiser comes barreling down the road.
Selomie jumps out the cab, she is furious. She directs a tirade at me. How dare I put up a post on Facebook, SHE will be the one that posts anything. How dare I post anything about Palala? I get even quieter when I am this angry and tell her very softly that I put a post about the Waterberg area, not Palala. She yells that I should have called her, SHE has the radios and the guns. I think, “I know that, don’t rub it in.” She then goes off how SHE knows all the people in the Waterberg, the APU’s, the police, she is even on first name basis with the head of anti-poaching in the Hawks. I tell her I also know people, hence the warning on Facebook. This just makes her more angry. She yells at me asking why I did not call her, so I explain since I really do not like the way she speaks to me I try talk to her as little as possible. That did not go down well either. She goes on how everyone else in the area called her and how many missed calls she received, I am the only one that did not re-act she states. I point out that this is incorrect; I am the only one that did not re-act the way SHE would have liked me to.
I am adding these links as a response to the attacks on my character and threat made on my life.
Full Palala Story.
Other people’s information on the goings on at Palala

A compilation of my Strange Classrooms is soon to be released, please “Like” and  keep an eye on this page.
THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF
Here is a story of developing and breaking an addiction, while dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome at the same time.
THE CHRONICLES OF THE MEXICAN HORSE THIEF II

Humility vs Humiliation.

If I must be honest, with myself, I do not think I have much humility, more likely I fall under, “An arrogant SOB.” This needs to be addressed.  In order to do this it is very important to differentiate between Humility and Humiliation.
I found the following:
Humiliation is a terribly painful and destructive emotional state. It ranks very high among the things that people are afraid of. It is an overwhelming experience of shame and being degraded, usually in the eyes of others. Sometimes a person can be intentionally humiliated by another, in a sadistic attack that is intended to strip away all dignity and self-esteem.
Humility, on the other hand, is a relief. When individuals are able to gracefully accept that there are limits to their power and importance, and to not collapse into despair, shame, or impotent rage, this is a developmental accomplishment. It marks the move from fantasy to reality, from omnipotence to competence. It is a gift at every stage of life — when a 2-year-old can accept that they are not actually in charge of everything, or when an aged person accepts that they need to a depend on others in a way they haven’t before. There’s a key element of being at peace. Contrary to humiliation, humility gives a person their dignity and equilibrium back.
My view on myself changed slightly on reading this. I still have miles to go before I can even think of myself as humble. On the other side I see that I shall have to do something about people that seem to gain some sort of importance from humiliating other people, usually in a less privileged position than themselves. I often say I should read and take my own advise, so I re-read Energy Vampires, the person that feels the need to humiliate others definitely falls under this category.

Short Story – Helicopter Drills

Short Story – Helicopter Drills

“Today, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this woman proved, to me at least, who she really is. At about 3:30pm I was walking back to my Hut after spending from 6am in the bush. An un-marked, or very badly marked helicopter appears, flying low over the bush, it starts circling the property. Man, it was so low I could have hit it with a handgun, if I had one.
I immediately sms Lize, my so-called PA, I have very little airtime. I ask her to paste this information on the Save Our Rhino page. I know that will get a lot of attention and very quickly. It will also alert any Rhino owners in the Waterberg as I know it will jump in seconds to all the other pages. Without a weapon this is the best plan I can think of in such a hurry. Surely the cavalry will come? I race back on foot, un-armed to where I know my Rhino are, a few kilometers away. I have no plan, I will have to see what is what when I get there. I am cursing and imagining all sorts of horrid things. What the hell am I to do if they fire at me from the chopper? What happens if they have armed, with AKs, guys on the ground. I run anyhow. I am in the bush where the Rhino were last seen when I get an sms from Lize. The chopper is an unannounced drill organized by Selomie. Oh, Fuck it! I am too angry to explain it in mere words, the anger and hatred roll over me. Even writing this now the anger is back and intense. The anger then was fuelled by delayed reaction of fear, fear of losing the Rhino, fear of getting wounded badly or killed myself…. Fear and anger, not a happy combination. I sit panting on a rock, I send an sms to Lize stating how STUPID this was.

Lize sms’s me back, she obviously told Salomie about my last sms, that Selomie has posted on facebook that the first helicopter drill were successfully done in the Waterberg with the comment, “Wayne thinks this is silly.” Silly, silly!? It goes way beyond silly, it is bloody criminal. I wonder how many other people nearly had a heart attack over this showboating. One does not do bloody drills in an operational area, full stop. I then calm down and start thinking. Who owns that helicopter? One night after quite a few whisky’s Neil mentioned that Selomie is so good she even got Groenewalt to let them use his helicopter in the “Phila” film. Is this true? Was this Groenewalt machine again?  All sorts of things are going on in my mind. I swop a few more sms’s with Lize, but as Selomie will be her boss soon and she will be stuck here on the farm she has to remain loyal to Selomie, I understand this. I have walked back to my Hut, I need coffee, the white Landcruiser comes barreling down the road.
Selomie jumps out the cab, she is furious. She directs a tirade at me. How dare I put up a post on facebook, SHE will be the one that posts anything. How dare I post anything about Palala? I get even quieter when I am this angry and tell her very softly that I put a post about the Waterberg area, not Palala. She yells that I should have called her, SHE has the radios and the guns. I think, “I know that, don’t rub it in.” She then goes off how SHE knows all the people in the Waterberg, the APU’s, the police, she is even on first name basis with the head of anti-poaching in the Hawks. I tell her I also know people, hence the warning on facebook. This just makes her more angry. She yells at me asking why I did not call her, so I explain since I really do not like the way she speaks to me I try talk to her as little as possible. That did not go down well either. She goes on how everyone else in the area called her and how many missed calls she received, I am the only one that did not re-act she states. I point out that this is incorrect; I am the only one that did not re-act the way SHE would have liked me to.”
From The Chronicles of the Mexican Horse Thief

Rhino Wars - Shots fired, shot fired!!

Early Saturday morning, Jan and I are on the spoor of our Rhino, we are making sure they are alive and well plus checking for foreign spoor, poachers spoor. Suddenly both Jan and I pull up short. We both heard a sound  that no anti-poaching guy wishes to hear. The only worse sound would be a zip/buzz thump and then the bang. The shot sounded like it came from about a kilometre in the opposite direction from the path we were walking. Shit, shit. What to do? We are reasonably sure the Rhino are in front of us, but not 100% sure, do we back track and find the source of the gunshot or hasten to where we think our Rhino are? I decide to go find out about the shot. The terrain is thick bush, gullies and rocks so it takes time to get to the point where we believe the sound originated. We have cell phone comms and I call Neil to see if he fired a weapon as the shot came from the direction of the farmhouse, or so we believed. Neil is on his way to town, he calls his foreman, Lucas, and gets all the workers mobilised to find the Rhino. Brave lot these little Pedis, they dash off into the bush unarmed, not even a panga or knopkerrie. Meanwhile Jan and I reach the area we think the sound came from. Nothing. Then two more bangs! This time it sounds like from behind the farmhouse. I scan the hill, nothing. Jan and I decided to go back to the place we last saw the Rhino tracks. Again about a kilometre or so, on the way we pick up two of the farm workers, we set routes and split up. Half a kilometre later we find Lucas and the signs of where our Rhino slept last night. Finally the two workers find our Rhino, all safe, just stressed out about all the noise the workers have been making. Neil and I have had some cell phone comms and he is already back at the farm.
Because of the hills and the wind, Jan and I heard the sound echo and were in the wrong place, Lucas, closer to the sounds pin pointed it correctly but could not tell Jan and I in time as we were in a dead zone, no cell reception for some time. The farm behind us is not a game farm, perhaps they shot some pigs….
Point of this story? Any one that has worked with me in the bush before will verify that I am quite capable of doing this job, BUT, I am severely handicapped in my efficiency by lack of equipment and manpower. This was made glaringly apparent today.

This extract is from some Chronicles that are not published yet, but here is how to find the ones that are.

Oh. And if you “Like” my page, I shall not be too upset.