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The Tough Part - Dealing with Reality

(The photos in this section are not pleasant to look at; they depict dead cheetahs and necropsies.)

Besides the joy of caring for lively beautiful cheetahs, the CCF has to deal with the darker side that results from the conflict between man and predator.

During the two weeks I spent at CCF, we had four reports of dead cheetahs.  One was run over by a car, one shot by a farmer, and two hunted at a game ranch.  

Hunting, as far as I understand, is legal in Namibia, but controlled.  As for me, even if I don't fully agree with hunting, if the price that hunters pay for their trophies helps preserve wildlife, then at least there is common ground between my beliefs and those of hunters.  Nevertheless, the idea that animals have to pay with their lives for the survival of their species is difficult for me to accept.

It is sad to know that cheetahs are getting killed, but it is very important for the CCF to be aware of the wild ones that get killed in order to keep track of them and if possible, perform necropsies to determine a series of things, just like an autopsy is to human beings.  In a strange way, the fact that the CCF is notified of dead cheetahs is a real achievement.  It is the result of their hard work building a healthy relationship with farmers and ranchers.

I had the sad privilege of accompanying Bonnie to Schoenfeld, a beautiful game ranch south of CCF, where a cheetah had been shot by a hunter.

The drive there was beautiful.  One minute it would pour, the other the sun would shine, or both!  Like they say, "if you don't like the weather in Namibia, wait 20 minutes."

Schoenfeld is a German-style game ranch surrounded by beautiful country.  The owner and his staff seemed to be very knowledgeable.

Unfortunately, mistakes happen.  The cheetah that was shot this time turned out to be a 13 month-old female.  A potential cheetah mother; a sad loss.  But as Bonnie put it, at least it wasn't the mother that was killed.  A dead cheetah mother can only mean certain death for wild cubs, unable to fend for themselves.

We were hoping to transport the dead animal back to CCF, but the proud hunter wanted to keep it longer for photographs, so we had to help Bonnie extract the cheetah's organs to take them back for a necropsy.  I don't think the hunter knew that he had killed a cub.

With our cardboard box full of organs, we drove back to CCF.  The sun was setting over the wild Namibian landscape, and the first evening shadows painted the land in colors similar to those I was feeling in my soul.

We reached the farm in the dark, and after a quick dinner, we proceeded to the lab to assist Bonnie with the organ dissection for future analysis.  We had to take two small pieces from the same section of each organ and place them in two separate bottles filled with formaldehyde and water.  I know that, like me, my fellow volunteers were trying to look at this from a purely scientific perspective and learn from it.  We asked questions and did what had to be done, but unlike all the other tasks we were assigned, this time there were no jokes or smiles.  

As soon as we finished, I ran to the cubs' pen.  I needed to see them and there they were, all cuddled up in the dark, staring at me with those bright and intelligent eyes that reflected the dim light emanating from the lab where a necropsy had just been performed.  I reflected on how those cubs represented hope for their species and was able to smile for the first time in many hours.

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  crocsetal

Created in  December, 1999, and updated in May, 2001