Doing nothing is as good as pulling the trigger yourself...

The start of another week, and a renewed passion. I always find that there are a lot of people who talk about doing things in life, but very few who actually follow through with their utterances.

On Friday last week I found a small duiker caught in a snare. Luckily, I got to her in time, and apart from a damaged back leg (not broken thankfully), we were able to release her safely back onto the farm.

What cowards. I abhor poachers, but especially those who use snares and traps. Suffering animals are my worst nightmare. It's utterly heart breaking to find snared animals on the farm, an occurrence that happens too frequently for my liking.

Something I feel so strongly about is the Rhino poaching in our beautiful country. If we all just sit back saying "oh that's so sad", and "I wish they would do something about that", then our lovely Rhinocerotidae are doomed. You CAN do something, and every little bit helps... Some encouragement for you today:

A Rhino's Tale
A poem by Caroline Street

I was born at  midday,
under the shady Umbrella Tree.
Filtered sunlight, like warm hay
brought  life to a newly born me.
The soft green grass,
was my cushion of welcome.

That first sweet taste
of  mother's milk,
brought strength to a frail young me.
A soft nudge from Mom,
was all the encouragement needed,
to raise me to my feet.
I was born into freedom
in the animal kingdom.

For the next few days,
life was spent in an idyllic haze
and contented closeness to my mother.
'Food on tap' and protection was my safe cover.
Her bulk, a constant warm comfort,
guardian to my fragility and innocence.

Nights were spent under the moon,
days foraging for food.
Grass and sand our daily diet,
under the sun's bright light.
An existence designed entirely for us,
glorious quiet,
…..the life of a Rhino.

A thundering explosion broke the silence,
my terror filled senses on defence.
Mom lay broken -
her lifeblood seeped into the dry, hot earth.
Mortally wounded, she moaned in agony,
the bullet that struck her had been deadly,
her cries now of sorrow and impending death.

The murderers came, black and white,
and in their guilty haste,
to prevent capture and sight,
crudely hacked off  mom's great horns -
her protection and  pride.
Amid her  struggles of protest
they did not care for her pain, only their gain.
This all took place under the Umbrella Thorn,
the place where I was born.

I, incredibly was left  unharmed,
visibly shaken with shock and horror,
I stared at the mutilated body
of my once great mother.

Caring humans came to my rescue
and put me in their care.
Hand reared and bottle-food
was my daily fare.
I grew up nourished  and strong,
and in my pride I was returned
to my natural habitat, the bushveld.

Like mother like daughter,
I was vital and strong.
My pride, my horns before me.
I made my home under the Umbrella Thorn Tree.

It was a  great day of excitement
when I found my mate,
for to live as a Rhino
I must procreate.
A calf was due to me,
days were spent in heavy pregnancy.
My life complete and happy now.
The past I finally put to rest,
with just happy thoughts of mom in my head.

My calf was born as free as me,
under the warm African sun,
in the shade of the Umbrella Thorn,
on the plains where  mother died,
the land to which the Rhino is historically tied.
A new life of hope and peace had arrived,
or was this just a wishful thought.

The remembered explosion of the gun,
in disbelief my mind was stunned.
My  newly born calf,
in her sweet innocence lay dead,
her lifeblood staining the earth red.

A second explosion shattered the air,
the bullet aimed at my head.
As I lay injured on the ground,
my horns, the poacher's prize, were hacked off.
The pain too much for my body to sustain,
death was my final  gain.

And so my species has been wiped out,
obliterated from this land.
The Rhino will no longer give birth,
no offspring will  inhabit  the earth.
Once again man's greed has prevailed,
but in the larger scheme of life
they have completely failed.

What God entrusted to man
through disrespect and greed of the land,
has been taken away
and will no longer see another day.


Click here to do something about it before it's too late.

Deviously Clever Bovines...

Cows are not as stupid as they look.

 

 

Behind this docile façade is a cunning mind.

 

Trust me - they trick you into foolishly believing that they are docile, simple creatures, whilst biding their time and hatching their plans to make your weekend down-time disappear... They KNOW when the boss is away, when its weekend, and when you are short staffed. Don't ask me how, (personally I think the egrets are in on it), but they just do.

 

They will wait until a Saturday evening at 5pm, when you're about to drive out of the gate to head home to your glass of wine and happy hubby and canines, and then they're all like "Ooo! Green grass, on the other side of the fence! That hasn't been there all week has it?! Looks yummy, lets bounce" and all 60 of them will walk over a barbed wire fence into your pasture, and you have no-one to help you put them back.

 

Devious.Little.Bastards.

 

Then they will spend the last half an hour of evening light frolicking in absolute bliss (SUCH a fun game) as pikkie over here (that would be me) curses, slips in cowpats and inevitably electrocutes herself on the electric fence, whilst trying to chase them all back through the smallest hole, waving her arms around like a lunatic, and screaming murderous threats of hamburgers and espatadas in their general direction. This usually ends with me unleashing a final deluge of expletives, throwing a few lofty rocks (which miss, of course) and storming off home to drown my frustrations - whilst our lovely busty bovines enjoy the spoils of war.

 

Cows 1, Leechie 0.

 

So, you fix the fence and retrieve all the fat, full cows the next morning (which is, of course, Sunday), reprimanding them as they march through the gate, and instructing them to stay put this time. They look at you as if to say "OK crazy lady, keep telling yourself that" and head off to munch on some grass. You think everything is fine again, and now you can enjoy the rest of your weekend. HAH! The moo-thership has other plans... True as bob, leaving dairy at 5pm, I look up to see that they are all out again. And I could swear they are laughing at me...

 

Cows 2, Leechie 0.

 

Hence, today I fixed that fence like a woman possessed. It looks like a spiderweb of impenetrability. I even tested it on my dog, and she couldn't get through it (not for lack of trying, that's for sure). After retrieving the distraught dog from the other side of the fence, I went off to gloat, walking through the herd with a spring in my step and a twinkle in my eye. "Hah! Get through that bitches!" I thought as I drove off to dairy.

I've just checked them now. They're still in their paddock. It must be my amazing fencing skills you say? Nah...its because its not the weekend, there are more than enough staff around to lend a helping hand, and the boss is back from the beach.

I told you, they're clever cows.