Have you ever tried so desperately to save something? But it seems impossible. Imagine watching it slip through your fingers like the sand on a beach.  I witness this every day. . . every single day.  Please believe me when I say, it kills me a little every time another grain of sand slips through.  Someone must do it; someone must save them.  And for some reason it’s me; I’m the one who chooses to risk their life everyday only to slowly die when I am let down.  Normal people would guess that the scariest part of the job would be the possibility of death.  They are wrong.  The scariest part is finding another one gone. Another one that will never be saved.  Another one that causes the population count to decrease. 

My name is Isla Rogers.  I am twenty-two years old.  I was born in Harare, Zimbabwe.  My parents, Julie and Louis Rogers, worked with an organization that studied endangered species.  My parents fought against deforestation policies and poaching: both major causes of wildlife extinction.  They studied elephants, rhinos, giraffes, and gorillas.  My parents were very selfless people, they dedicated their lives to protecting those who need protecting.  Something I have always wanted to do.  I have always wanted to be as brave and dedicated as they were.  By now, you’ve probably noticed me talking in past tense.  My parents died on March 26, 2003.  They had flown to Tabora, Tanzania.  It was supposed to be a routine mission, just to take a census of the elephant population.

I kissed my mother’s and father’s cheeks, thinking I would see them in about two weeks.  I wish I would’ve squeezed them a little harder before they left.  I remember crying before they left begging them not to leave.  My dad said, “Mommy and Daddy have to go save the animals. We will be back before you even know we are gone.”  My mother had given me a necklace right as they stepped out the door.  She said, “Whenever you miss us, hold on to the charm and it’ll be like we are right here with you.” She then clipped the necklace on me and showed me the one she was wearing.  They were identical, the country of Africa and a little elephant charm that sat right over the country. Looking back on that moment now, part of me thinks she knew they weren’t coming back.  I had never been hugged so tight.  They just kept repeating, “Remember to be brave, Isla.  We love you more than you will ever know.  You must watch your brother until we get back.  We know you both are going to do amazing things in the future.  We know you’ll make us very proud, even more proud than you both already do.  We love you both so much!” I was six years old when they passed away.  It’s a blessing that they gave me a little brother, Kane, who was just three years old when they left.  We are so very close, growing up together made us best friends.

My brother Kane and I were raised by our aunt and uncle.  They took us in when we were scared and alone, and never asked for anything in return.   My aunt, Lisa, is a beautiful woman.  She has long light golden locks, ocean blue eyes and the height of a baby giraffe, exactly like my mom and me.  She is, sorry, was my mother’s sister.  They could have passed as twins when they were around two and four.  My mom was two years younger than Lisa.  I used to walk past my aunt sitting on her bed crying holding old pictures of them.  She is one of the strongest people I know.  But when it comes to her little sister her wall is shattered.  She becomes vulnerable, emotional and depressed.  I think she blames herself, because she is the oldest sibling.  She beats herself up a little every day. I think she feels like it was her job as the oldest sibling to protect her younger one. 

Once in a while, when I miss my Mom, I look at old pictures too.  I look at memories that were captured when I was young, before she died.  There’s a picture where her and I are laughing while sharing a belly buster ice cream cone, or at least that’s what we called it. The massive waffle cone was filled with five scoops of ice cream and any toppings of our choosing.   During some visits to the ice cream parlor, we would get a chocolate themed cone.  With this flavor we would top it dripping hot fudge, chunks of candy bars and mini droplets of cookie dough.  Other trips we would go with a, I guess some call a fruitier theme and we would top the ice cream with fresh fruit, a dollop of fluffy whipped cream and sprinkles of every color of the rainbow.  Ice cream dates on a hot summer day were my favorite.  The way the cold ice cream made the blazing sun just a little less hot.

  My aunt and uncle lived in Cape Town, South Africa.  It was quite an adjustment but I liked living in Cape Town.  Our house wasn’t huge, but it was simply ours.  We lived in a three-bedroom white house.  We had a decent-sized yard and a white picket fence along the perimeter.  Our address was 1456 Apple St. Cape town, South Africa.  We grew up in a quaint neighborhood with kind neighbors.  My best friend, Kirsten, lived two houses down from me.  Her house number was 1460.  Her house was a pale rust red color, her yard had a brown picket fence.  There was a gigantic tree in Kirsten’s back yard.          

One day, I think we were about nine or ten, her dad decided we should have a tree house to play in.  So, over the course of a few weeks her dad and a couple of his buddies built us a tree house.  I personally think it might have just been an excuse to grill and drink a couple beers at the end of long day of building.  That tree house was amazing.  Kirsten, Liam, Kane and I used to play in it for hours.  We used our imagination in unbelievable ways. 

On some days we would be spies trying to get information on one of the neighbors, we’d have binoculars, notebooks and crazy “identity hiding costumes.”  On other days, Kirsten and I would be princesses locked away in a tower, sometimes Kane and Liam, would play the hero, our knight in shining armor.  When we were princesses, we did our hair, painted our nails and wore beautiful dresses.  We would also occasionally play house, we each had our favorite baby dolls.  On the occasions where Kirsten and I played house, Kane and Liam would be somewhere digging in the mud or having a Nerf war.  My whole childhood was spent with those three kids, and I can’t complain.  We made countless memories and a lifetime of inside jokes.

 After I lost my parents, I was very depressed.  This was a feeling that most six-year-olds don’t understand.  When I first arrived at Cape Town, I was still confused I didn’t understand why my mom and dad weren’t coming home.  My aunt said I would just randomly ask, “When are my mommy and daddy coming home? I miss them!” 

Once I started to settle in, my aunt and uncle brought me to meet some of the neighbors. It was a sunny afternoon, we left at about three o’clock.  First, we walked across the street to the Smith’s.  They were an older couple; the wife was named Amy and the Husband was named Steve.  They had three children, but they were all in their late 20s now.  Amy and Steve were really nice and assured me I had the best aunt and uncle. 

After about a half hour at the Smith’s house, we strolled back the north side of the road, the side that our house was on.  We walked two houses down from ours, to the Junes.  That’s when I met my best friend Kirsten, and my little brother met his best friend, Liam.  Their parents, Karen and Luke, are good friends of my aunt and uncle.  While the adults sat outside on their patio, Kirsten showed me her doll collection, miniature kitchen set and all of her costumes.  Lisa and the rest of the adults’ lost track of time and stayed until 8:30pm.  Kirsten and I played a mix of princesses, mommies and cooks.  We wore sparkly dresses, bottle-fed babies and made plastic waffles all at the same time.  The boys played trucks or something like that.  Liam and I were really excited to have such amazing friends living so close. 

Kirsten and I stayed in touch after high school.  We went to different colleges which caused to drift apart but when we do see each other, we pick up right where we left off.  She is attending UCT, University of Cape Town, to study law.  She wants to become a lawyer.  I think she’ll make a fantastic lawyer; she’s always had a gift for arguing.  Unlike Kirsten, I didn’t take the traditional route of college.  

After I graduated high school, I decided to move back to Zimbabwe.  I decided that I wanted to help just as my parents did.  I attended the Paramount Training Academy.  I had my first day of school in January.  I wasn’t sure if it was what I wanted to do, but after my first week I knew.  We started by learning the behavior of ourselves.  This was probably the most important aspect of the training.  It takes a very strong-willed person to work with some of the dogs.  When we first started taking personality tests, I thought, this is ridiculous, we need to learn about dogs.  The personality tests actually help pair a dog that is similar in behavior to the trainer. I graduated at twenty years old with a certificate in K-9 training.  You may be thinking, what kind of k-9 trainer is she.  This is where people start to worry about me.  Paramount Training Academy specializes in anti-poaching and military use.  I leaned more towards the anti-poaching k-9 unit.

Ever since I was about 13 years old, I have wanted to do something with anti-poaching.  I didn’t know if it’d be biology like my parents or military.  I just always knew it’s what I had to do.  At 13, I understood what actually happened to my parents.  I hadn’t understood why on earth they would leave us until that day.  The day I read the letter.   

On day in May, when I was 13, I sat eating lunch with my aunt.  That was the day I wanted to know everything.  We were eating at Panera Bakery, I had just ordered their chicken noodle soup, my aunt had ordered their chicken ranch wrap.  I sat there sipping my Coca-Cola, my aunt sipped on a 7UP.  I brought up my parents, and how I still didn’t know what happened to them.  She questioned me, “Are you sure you want to know?  We can wait until you are older.”

I assured her, “I want to know, it’s really been bothering me lately.  I don’t know how they died and lately I’ve been coming up with possible answers.  It has been driving me crazy.” 

So, my aunt began, “There was a mission in Tabora, Tanzania.  There had been a significant increase in elephant poaching.  Your parents were sent to assist the anti-poaching units in counting the population.  They left on March 22, 2000.  You and Kane were with Grandma & Grandpa.”

I asked Lisa, “Did they know the mission was dangerous?”

 Lisa sighed and responded with, “I remember Julie, your mom, calling me a few days before they left.  She asked me, ‘if anything happens while we are gone, can you take Isla and Kane?’”  I had told her of course.  I then asked her why she was all of a sudden worried.  She explained to me, there had been a high increase in poaching.”

Your mom had said, “I’m not sure if we are going to make it back.  We most likely will, but there is always that possibility.  There is a ruthless poaching gang out there.  They have found biologists decapitated and left with notes.  Have you heard of Dian Fossey?  She was murdered in 1985, she was found in her cabin.  She had been killed by a machete.  They never found out who did it, but it’s suspected that it was a group of poachers.  She was known for researching gorillas in the Rwandan Forest.  The poachers in Tabora sound just as ruthless as the ones who possibly killed Dian.  I just need to know that if something does happen, my kids will be taken care of.  And they will be loved, that’s why I’m asking you.  I know that you will take the very best care of them. And you will explain to them why I had to do what I had to do.”’

My aunt then said, “There is a letter from your mother, I will show you when we get home.” We finished our meal.  The rest of meal was quiet, so was the ride home.  I could only hear the vents blowing, the faint volume of “Africa” by Toto and the windshield wipers because it had started to sprinkle. Squeak-squeak was all I could hear as the windshield wipers wiped droplets off the windshield. 

As soon as we arrived home, my aunt took me upstairs, into her room.  She opened her closet and stood on a stool as she reached for a box on a shelf.  It was a dark wooden box, almost like a treasure chest.  It was about the size of a watermelon; I know it’s a weird comparison but that’s the only way I can describe it.  I wondered what else was hidden in that box. To me, it was a real treasure chest.  But nothing could have prepared for what was inside.  There was an envelope, a few photographs and the following letter:

Dear Isla,

If you’re reading this, it means your father and I did not return from our trip to Tanzania.  I know you must have a lot of unanswered questions; most I cannot answer because I am not there with you. Oh, how I wish I was there with you.  I know that you have been a great big sister to Kane.  I miss you both so much. 

I am writing this from my hut in the Tanzanian Safari.  Your father and I are working with the anti-poaching units to track elephants and possibly poachers.  This is a very dangerous mission, which is why I decided to write you this letter.  I don’t think we will make it back.  I wanted you to have something to help somewhat explain why we left.  Something to explain why on earth we would risk our lives. 

I am sure you are wondering why we went on such a dangerous mission, and I will explain everything or at least as much as I can in this letter.  Your father and I left for Tabora, knowing the dangers we could face.  But we left because the animals need us now more than ever.  We left so your generation has something to fight for.  The animals are being poached at such high rates; they face the high possibility of extinction.  There are far to few people saving them.  I know this must be hard to wrap your head around, and I’m sorry for that.

We wouldn’t have left without knowing you’d be taken care of and loved unconditionally.  We asked Lisa and Tom to be your legal guardians, if we didn’t make it back.  You have amazing family, and I knew you’d be so deeply loved.  As I write this, I am holding the charm on our identical necklaces.  I haven’t let go of it yet.

I looked down and noticed my finger tips gripping the necklace as well.  I didn’t even realize I was holding it.  As I continued reading, I felt the teardrops running down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and landing on the letter.  There were now a few drops on the paper, those drops represented sadness, hope and honestly confusion.  I couldn’t understand what all of this meant.  I still had so many questions.  Was I supposed to follow in their footsteps?  How could they abandon their children?  What could possibly more important than their very own kids?  Why wouldn’t they stay home if they knew they were going to die?  I continued to read, my tears now bursting through like water in the rapids of a river dam. 

Again, I know this can be hard to understand.  I don’t expect you to accept it either, I understand if you are confused, sad or even angry.  I would be furious if I was in your shoes.  You have to at least understand one thing; your father and I love you and Kane so much.  It is impossible to put the level of love we have for you into words. “I love you to the moon and back 2,375 times,” doesn’t even come remotely close to how much we truly love you.  We left for you; we left so you and your kids could see an elephant, rhino or gorilla in person.  If you decide to pursue a career like your father and I’s, I have left an envelope with an address to P.O. Box.  The key is in the envelope.  In that P.O. Box, there is every file, image and document we have collected, or wrote. 

I need you to understand, whatever happens to me or your father, know that we did not die in vain.  We will pass knowing that our work will live on.  We will pass knowing our babies will be loved.  We will pass loving you.  We did this for you and Kane.  We love you both more than anything in this world. 

Love,

Mom and Dad

               My heart ached. I folded the letter back up and gently placed it back into the envelope.  I stared at it, still holding the envelope as if some more words were about to appear.  But none did.  I sat there, tears still rolling down my cheeks, my heart still aching and my brain still searching for answers.  This isn’t where the fire lit in me, that came weeks later.

 I was on a bike ride, and I started thinking more and more.  I had kept the key in case I decided to go to the P.O. Box.  And that day, instead of going straight home, I took a left and then two rights and went to the Post Office. 

I opened that door, my heart was racing, and not just because I had pedaled at max speed all the way to the Post Office.  I opened the P.O. Box and there was just a cardboard box. 

I took the box straight home.  Inside, I found photographs, newspaper clippings, notes and many files.  I read and read for hours, uncovering unimaginable acts from poachers.  I found some of the unimaginable acts on their death certificates.  My parents were shot by poachers.  They were then found decapitated, just as Dian Fossey was.  The poachers left them as a message, that they aren’t going anywhere.  Oh, wait, sorry.  They never found out who did it, but it’s pretty self-explanatory.  My parents were hacked just as the rhinos and elephants are.  That had lit a flame in me, nothing should have to endure that.  Whether you are a human or a rhino, you shouldn’t go through that.  That was the moment.  The moment I chose to fight against the poachers.  I would stand against them for my parents, and for the animals.

Now, that leads me to today. Today, I leave for a mission.  Not exactly like my parents, because I am on the side with guns, not clipboards and notes.  Today, I leave with the anti-poaching task force to track rhinos and possibly apprehend poachers.  My buddy, Jack, is picking me up at seven o’clock.  I will continue to document throughout the mission, just as my parents did. 

               It is now eight o’clock, we are about twenty minutes from the base.  We fly out for the safari at ten o’clock.  There we will take out dogs to search for snares, and traps.  We are hoping to collect and destroy as many traps as possible, that way less animals are in danger.  I will be walking with my K-9 Unit, Hans.  He has been a fantastic tracker. In just six months on the job, he has tracked 14 poachers and has traced 39 snares.  He is a two-year-old German Shepherd, and one of the best dogs I have ever met.  He is my other half, my best friend. 

               I’m going to start harnessing Hans up.  It is now nine o’clock, we leave in one hour.  Right now, we are packing up coolers.  In our team, there are 15 people.  I have made 45 PB&Js, 30 ham and cheese sandwiches and packed about 20 bags of chips.  And of course, I packed cans and bags of dog food.  We will be sleeping there for two night.  Others are bringing more food.  I think we’ll be set for 48 hours.

               The plane took off about one hour ago, it’s about a three- or four-hour plane ride.  There are two small planes taking 12 of us out there.  I’m sitting in the middle row, on the left side next to a window.  There are three rows, with two seats in each row.  I chose this seat because it’s guaranteed to have the best view.  And when your flying low over the African safari, you want a good view.  It is breathtaking.

               We have been in the air for about two hours now.  As I look out at the landscape, I see a herd of elephants running, and a couple hundred feet behind them is a rhino.  I saw my first rhino a little over a year ago. 

               I’ll never forget that day, just over a year ago.  The day a grain of sand slipped through my fingers, well two grains actually.  We had just come up over a hill, Stone and me.  Stone was my dog at the time.  She was a German shepherd mix, recused form the shelter.  She had anger issues, but I channeled those and used them to make one heck of a k-9 unit.  I saw a grey lump.  I could’ve sworn it was a rock, because I had never seen a rhino in person.  I moved closer to the mysterious lump.  When I was five feet away, I figured out it was a rhino.  I yelled for the other members to come see.  I dropped Stone’s leash and ran to the rhino’s side.  She was warm.  She hadn’t been laying there long.  Her horn had been hacked off.  I instantly went back to the day I read my parents death report.  I had vowed to save people and animals from being hacked apart by poachers.  But here we are.  Another one gone. 

The veterinarian that was along on the mission ran to me.  The rhino was declared dead.  As protocol, the vet performed an autopsy.  Nothing could’ve prepared any of us for what that autopsy would uncover.  We stood there as Dr. Elizabeth Hayes performed the autopsy.  She all of a sudden stood up holding something that shocked us all.  She tried desperately to hold back the tears. 

               Dr. Hayes said with a soft muffled tone, “She was…pregnant.”  Those are three words you never want to hear when standing over something that is no longer breathing.  She burst into tear as she held the rhino calf.  We all did.  I was surrounded by toughest people I knew, and they were all crying.   Jack, my buddy, is the strongest guy I know.  He is a veteran and has seen unimaginable things.  There is something completely heartbreaking when you’re watching a person’s wall shatter.  His wall shattered that day.  I’m pretty sure everything he had ever endured let loose that day.  There were now two gone, two that could never be saved.  That rhino calf was the future of the population.  And now she was gone, along with her mom.  The poachers had taken two lives .  We all stood together crying.  That’s when Stone ran. 

She was growling and running north towards a patch of trees.  The opposite way we had come from.  Jack and I ran after her.  We were about 15 feet away from her.  That’s when the IED went off.

BOOM! The ground shook. My ears rang and I was blown back by the explosion.  I don’t how long I was out but when I came to, there was dust everywhere in the air.

I desperately tried to yell but only a squeak managed to come out.  I finally pushed out the words, “Jack! Stone! Anybody?”

Jack shouted back, “Isla, I’m alright! Are you okay? Can you walk?”

I tried to push myself up but kept falling back down.  I was finally victorious and stood up.  I then yelled, “I’m up! I have to find Stone!”  I stumbled around, as my ears continued to ring.  My head pulsed with pain.  I brought my hand up to my forehead and pulled it back down, blood.  I am bleeding, I thought to myself.  I started to cry.  Through the tears I yelled for Stone.  Until my foot hit something.  I dropped to the ground.  It was Stone.

I yelled, “NOOOOOOO!”  She was gone.  I couldn’t believe she was gone.  Just an hour ago we were sharing a PB&J, and now she was dead.  She was my best friend.  I had spent hours with her, training and just hanging out.  She had grown immensely from the scared and aggressive dog to the loyal companion she was today.  We had grown together.  How can she be gone? I thought to myself as I laid my head on hers and sobbed.  I just laid with her, for who knows how long.

I laid with her until I was awoken by a wet tongue lick my cheek.  “Stone, you’re ALIVE!” I yelled as I held her close to me.  She yelped!  Her leg was in bad shape, she yelped because I accidently set my knee on it. 

I called to Jack, “Stone’s alive, come help!”

He ran to us.  By then, most of the dust had cleared.  He carried Stone back to the hill, near the rhino.  One of the other veterans, Sam, sprinted back to the plane to get the first aid kit.  Dr. Hayes cleaned and wrapped her leg.  She was going to make it.  I was beyond relieved.  We stayed for the remainder of the mission.  We continued to capture photographs of the scenery.  Luckily, we only found two dead rhinos: the mom and her calf.  It was our goal to find none taken by poachers, but that was not the case. 

After that mission, everything was different.  We were forced to make a tough call, but Stone had to go into early retirement.  It was best for her.   She still constantly hangs out with us but just doesn’t go on missions anymore.  Her leg has never fully recovered which is why she had to retire.

As I write this, we are about to land.  It’s been quite a journey so far.  As I reflect back on life, I just think about how I have never given up.  Life has been crazy, but I am so blessed to be able to do what I was born to do.  I stand up for those who cannot stand up for themselves.  I share their stories in hopes of inspiring others.  I am making a change in the world, even when it seems impossible to keep fighting.  I will continue to fight no matter how many grains of sand slip through my fingers.  The animals need me.  They need us now more than ever.