Originally published in Nature Vision Magazine – July 2024
Most great photographs are born from curiosity and asking, “What if?” Great stories, too. Conservation stories also include an element of “How can we create change?” American couple Courtland and Claude Parfet exemplified this when they purchased the Solio cattle ranch in central Kenya in 1966. With the goal of providing a dedicated habitat for animals to roam undisturbed by humans, they fenced in 13,500 acres of land and established the first fully enclosed private game reserve in Kenya.
The conservancy was established in 1970 with the relocation of five black rhinos to the ranch. Over five decades later, the conservancy has expanded to 19,000 acres and has garnered worldwide recognition as one of the most successful private rhino sanctuaries in East Africa. With over 200 black and white rhinos, Solio’s population represents one-tenth of Kenya’s formerly plentiful rhino population. Additionally, Solio has stocked game reserves with rhinos across the African continent.
This visionary project has created a haven for nature lovers and photographers alike. On a typical multi-week safari, spotting two or three rhinos is considered a great sighting; I counted 30 from my truck in the middle of Solio’s “Twiga Plain.” While that sounds like the perfect photographic gift, it created an unexpected dilemma for me.
The Unicorn Challenge
By its very nature, wildlife photography is a challenge; you have no control over your subject. Lions spend most of their day sleeping, and when they are awake and active, getting a low point of view to photograph them is practically impossible. Elephants walk parallel to your vehicle, making head-on shots difficult. Zebras and other animals turn and walk the other way more often than not. And because rhinos are grazers, their heads usually skim along the ground, so it takes patience to wait for them to finally look up. There’s a reason why rhinos are nicknamed “chubby unicorns” — they’re not only hard to find, but also difficult to photograph. Yet when they do finally raise their magnificent heads at the right moment and in the right setting and light, it makes all the waiting worthwhile. I came to truly understand that on this trip.
As evident in my previous portfolio of rhino portraits, my attempts over the years have focused on getting the shot rather than exercising any creativity, relying solely on my 600mm lens. So, what could I do differently in this rhino-rich conservancy? That was my dilemma, one I was glad for; it encouraged me to experiment and rethink how I wanted to photograph the animals. The most important part of my photography has become surveying the scene and stopping to ask myself, “What is the story I want to tell here?”
I often see photographs of rhinos that depict them as lone animals, the sole survivors of a century of hunting and exploitation. But for me, Solio’s story is one of abundance and plenty — it’s simply extraordinary. In this tiny paradise, rhinos aren’t victims.
I’d never seen such large groups of rhinos before, and as I spent more time with them, I witnessed their distinct personalities: some were grumpy, and others were nurturing, shy, playful, or curious. It turns out that beneath that armor of tough skin, rhinos have feelings, too! These observations made me want to show the rhinos as unique individuals, which became part of the story.
My next challenge was turning this intent into a shot list: groups of rhinos, individual rhinos, rhinos in their natural habitat, and an environmental portrait that gave a clear sense of where these rhinos live.
Crash Shots
The term for a group of rhinos is “crash,” appropriate for their powerful and forceful nature. Because there were rhinos everywhere, getting a photograph of several together wasn’t hard; however, getting a good photo of rhinos that felt fresh and interesting was far more difficult. After making the usual snapshots, I decided to try a less-typical viewpoint: low and close with my wide-angle lens. While great in theory, rhinos weigh up to 8,000 pounds and aren’t always the friendliest or most cooperative.
To realize my vision, I knew I needed to use remote cameras like I used when photographing bears (Nature Vision Magazine, Issue 2), but it turns out that bear behavior is far more reliable than that of rhinos. I spent every day trying to predict where the rhinos would walk, placing my cameras, driving far enough away not to bother them but still be close enough not to lose the signal to trigger my remotes — only to feel defeated as they went off in the opposite direction of where I wanted them to go.
As is often the case in wildlife photography, it’s a numbers game: spend enough time in the field and good things happen. Yet my camera-placement-to-photograph ratio was comically bad. But the few successful images made up for all the misses.
More Than Just a Rhino
In 25 years of photographing in Kenya, I’ve gathered a solid number of rhino portraits. Most of them fall into the category of “Here’s a rhino” or “This is what a rhino looks like.” I wanted more depth and feeling. Or perhaps more depth offeeling.
Truthfully, a photo of a rhino is just a photo of a rhino. To make something unique, I knew the key would be to find interesting light. I typically photograph wildlife in soft morning or evening light, so I stepped out of my comfort zone to experiment with different lighting and see which possibilities I might find there.
Because the shape of the rhino’s horn is so strikingly graphic, the potential for a beautifully backlit image felt promising. But it turns out that a backlit rhino becomes nothing more than a big black blob in a photograph! After some experimentation, the scene I initially envisioned began to shift. What if I added an element to that dark, backlit shape? In my mind’s eye, I pictured a sunburst along the edge of the rhino’s body, so I knew I needed to get low to make that happen. After scrambling around and laying down in wet grass with rhinos wandering past, I finally got what I was after. (Note that I got special permission to leave the vehicle within the limits set by my guides to ensure the animals were not disturbed.)
Using Available Light
Even if you’ve never been to Kenya, the mere thought conjures up the intense heat that dominates most of the day with harsh, contrasty light — precisely what I try to avoid. Rather than giving in to my natural impulse to put my cameras away in the hotter light, I tried to reframe my thinking around it. What if, instead of avoiding it, I embraced the harsh light as an element in the photograph? Because light and dark represent different photographic moods, I knew I could use the dramatic effects of the harsher light to create a sense of mystery with a rhino emerging from the shadows. While I’m always intrigued by the ideas that strike me while photographing, it’s not always easy to bring them to fruition. This idea meant finding a rhino lit only on one side while looking directly at my camera; however, I was much more eager for this to happen than the rhinos were. But after many near misses, one of the animals finally cooperated, and I got the shot I envisioned. This exercise also opened up future possibilities when photographing in harsh light, as I now see it as an opportunity rather than a hindrance.
A Sense of Place
Located between the Aberdare Mountains and majestic Mount Kenya, Solio is a naturally scenic backdrop. For me, the defining location photograph would be a rhino in silhouette set against the matching silhouette of Mount Kenya. This photograph was simple enough to make, but it took detailed planning to execute. I needed to understand where a rhino would most likely be in front of the mountain before sunrise, but the combination of the local guides’ knowledge and a lot of trial and error eventually made it happen.
In part, this planning and execution (and the resulting missed shots) is why it takes more than a couple of days to get a sense of a place — to really understand what I want to say about it. With its lush forests, grassy plains, and multiple watering holes, no single photograph could ever tell Solio’s story. But with planning, time, and a bit of luck, I found it was possible to capture its spirit in a large scenic image of the watering hole to show its immense scale. By far, this was the most challenging photograph to make; I needed the perfect combination of rhinos, a windless moment to get the reflection on the water, and some moody clouds.
Hope for the Future
Being among the many healthy rhinos during my time at Solio gives me profound hope for the future of the species. In 1970, there were 20,000 black rhinos in Kenya; in 1990, there were only 400. Today, there are still fewer than 1,000, but the Kenyan population of black rhinos has risen with nearly 100 of these living at Solio — a reminder of what humans can accomplish when we pull together to make a concerted effort for positive change.
It’s more important than ever that we share our experiences of wildlife. In my years as a photographer, I’ve come to truly understand how much the world needs to see the stories we tell about the places we experience and the animals who call those places home. If we can see it, we can feel it. And that’s the power of the photograph.
