If a rhino could goose step

What would the unicorn be without its distinctive pointed horn? Probably just a horse or maybe, even a pony. Just as that large, spiraling horn gives the mythical unicorn its entire identity of invulnerability, purity and grace, so do the other individual oddities and bits in the animal kingdom lend their own touch of distinction and class to their holders. Just think – would anyone recognise a tiger if not for its singular black-and-yellow stripes, will kids ever draw pictures of elephants without their massive trunks; can you imagine a rattlesnake without the customary tchik-tchik of the rattle at the end of its tail? The answer to all these is ‘no’.

So imagine my surprise when I went to the city zoo last month and saw a horn-less rhino contentedly munching grass in its enclosure. It was a massive African White Rhino (the largest of all the rhinos) which naturally has not one, but two horns on its snout. The specimen I saw in the zoo however, was without its two traditional accessories. At first sight, I felt a strangeness cos it was the first rhino I’d seen without a horn. I experienced a funny feeling and later, I felt a bit sad too. Governments in Africa where the White Rhino is found, have undertaken de-horning of their rhino population in some measure in a bid to prevent them from being poached for their horns. Of course the humaneness of such an exercise is under scrutiny - to what extent, you may tamper with nature to protect it from man’s greed? Further, the rhino’s horn regenerates (the horn is solid keratin, the same stuff our hair and nails are made of) and so, de-horning does not serve as a lifelong safeguard.

To come back to our zoo rhino, I was so taken in by its strangeness that I ventured close to get a better look. The rhino must have already been de-horned when it was brought to our city zoo cos I don’t imagine such a procedure being undertaken here. There was a five-feet sturdy parapet all around the enclosure but I found a high mound of soil alongside where I could look down on the rhino. A few other people had also gathered around that spot. There was a man who lifted up his son on his shoulder so that he too, could get a closer view of the rhino. The kid asked, “Father, what is that?” His father replied, “Why son, that’s a rhino.” The kid was puzzled, “But where is its horn?” The father had no answer. As I climbed down from the mound, I honestly wished the rhino’s horns would grow back soon and it would reclaim its proud majesty.

A rhino’s horn grows back in typically, two to three years.