The African bush can be both breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly cruel. In its wild expanse, survival is often measured by the hour, and for newborns left without their mothers, the odds are unbearably slim. Yet, in the heart of South Africa, at the Care For Wild Rhino Sanctuary, two tiny orphans have defied those odds—not just by surviving, but by discovering something even more powerful: friendship.
In early December, rangers in Kruger National Park stumbled upon a newborn rhino calf. She was only hours old, her fragile body trembling with weakness. Her mother was nowhere to be found. Alone and vulnerable, the little calf stood little chance of making it through the night. Acting quickly, rescuers airlifted her to the sanctuary’s intensive care unit.
They named her Daisy.
At the ICU, Daisy needed everything—round-the-clock monitoring, bottle feedings every few hours, treatments to stabilize her body temperature, and medicines to strengthen her immune system. The staff worked tirelessly to keep her alive, but even with all their care, one thing was missing: companionship. Rhinos are deeply social animals, and without another being by her side, Daisy’s recovery would be incomplete.
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As fate would have it, Daisy wasn’t the only orphan in need of healing.
Just a week earlier, sanctuary staff had admitted a tiny zebra foal named Modjadji. Found lying motionless after violent storms swept across the reserve, the newborn zebra was barely breathing when rangers discovered her. She, too, had lost her mother far too soon. With dedicated care, Modjadji slowly regained her strength—but like Daisy, she longed for connection.
At first, the two orphans occupied separate corners of the ICU. Daisy, fragile and weary, focused on surviving. Modjadji, still recovering from her ordeal, quietly regained her footing. But as the days passed and their strength returned, their curiosity drew them closer together. A gentle nudge here, a quiet sniff there—until one day, they were inseparable.
“Rhinos are very social animals and require companionship,” explained Louwhen Bowker, a media contact for the sanctuary. “Modjadji is fantastic company for Daisy and very affectionate towards her.”
Soon, their bond deepened into something resembling sisterhood. Daisy would lumber after Modjadji, and the little zebra would stay faithfully by her side. At night, they curled up together, pressed close for warmth and comfort, each finding in the other the security they had lost with their mothers.
Wherever Daisy went, Modjadji followed. Wherever Modjadji stood, Daisy was never far behind.
For the caretakers, the friendship was more than touching—it was vital. By providing Daisy with an animal companion, they reduced the risk of her becoming too dependent on human handlers, which is crucial for her eventual release back into the wild. Together, Daisy and Modjadji were not only surviving—they were healing.
One day, both will return to the freedom of the savannah. Daisy will grow into a powerful rhino, ready to join her own kind, while Modjadji will find her place among the zebra herds. But for now, in their vulnerable beginnings, they have chosen each other as family.
Their story is a reminder that love and connection transcend species, that healing is faster when you do not heal alone, and that sometimes, the family you choose is the family that matters most.
