A bright moon filtered through the canopy of Newlands Forest on the slopes of Table Mountain as four special ops rangers buried themselves under leaves for a 72-hour stakeout. “It was freezing, which helped us stay alert, and we had to dig in our boots not to slide downhill,” says D, pointing to the spot.
On the second night they heard the rhythmic “thuck thuck” of a panga and saw a fire flickering above them. Edging their way through tangled vegetation, they followed the noise until they saw four men hacking into the bark of indigenous trees. Surging in, they caught three, while the fourth shimmied high up a tree and escaped. Four backpacks stuffed with bark were seized as evidence.
Illegal bark strippers — unlike most traditional healers and collectors who support sustainable bark harvesting — are killing the forest’s indigenous trees, such as the Cape beech and assegai.
The Western Cape has less than 1% of indigenous forest left: this temperate rainforest is a rare survivor.
Enter the Seam rangers, a green swat team with six dogs, into the battleground which is Newlands Forest by night.
The 17 sea, air and mountain (Seam) special operations rangers of Table Mountain National Park, six paired with K9 dogs, take risks day and night to stop the poaching of plants and animals in the unfenced park.
Men armed with blades have escalated the destruction of the forest since 2019, entering in groups after dark and stripping more than one or two dozen. They chop and peel off large swathes, leaving the trunks almost bare. This condemns the trees to a slow death.
“The demand for illegal bark increases on the black market every day and so our work also increases,” says D. “We sacrifice a lot of family time to work at night, but we are making a difference.”
They depend on each other for their success. N, whose dog Leah sits next to her on a muddy trail, says: “I have full trust in my team, and in my canine.”
The four Seam rangers who take me on a daytime patrol in the forest — pointing out a “graveyard” of fallen and dying trees — move as a tight unit, gathering intel about the trails and people who come to the forest. Many don’t realise the rangers in camouflage are just metres away.
The bark strippers’ capture, on April 18, helped deliver evidence for the suspects to be charged under the National Environment Protected Areas Act.
SANParks has hosted several workshops with traditional healers and cultural groups “to educate them about bark-stripping issues and the effects it has on our forests”, says Lauren Clayton, communications manager for the Cape.
The stakeout was part of an extended law enforcement operation to save the collapsing forest. Table Mountain Park manager Megan Taplin says: “This is a great example of the dedication and bravery of our rangers who put themselves in harm's way to protect our natural heritage.
Seam rangers have been risking their lives since they began training in 2021. “We understood the risks when we joined,” says 38-year-old B. “I have been kidnapped by [abalone] poachers and thrown into the deep cold sea. Our vessel, which was trailing them, picked me up.”
“I joined the marine unit in 2012 and did courses in fisheries and in dangerous game management in Limpopo,” says B, who wanted to extend his learning and work in law enforcement when he applied for the training.
Two others joined SANParks because they needed a job and, while patrolling the mountain and sea, became passionate about protecting them from harm.
“I come from a community with a background in poaching, but this work developed my love for nature,” says 36-year-old F, who started the job in the Cape Point section. He joined the team because he wanted to contribute more and, off duty, volunteers in his community to prevent substance abuse and domestic violence.
D, 32, says “he fell in love” with nature after he started working for SANParks as an environmental monitor 10 years ago.
“I was unemployed and I took the opportunity to get a job in Table Mountain National Park,” he says. “People didn’t understand what I did. They thought I was looking after baboons.
“I started in the marine unit at Kommetjie. When I grew up, we would take limpets from the beach and didn’t know [about permits]. Poachers in my community know my face and I stay out of their way,” says D, who has a family.
N studied nature conservation before doing an internship at SANParks. “When I graduated, I became an environmental monitor at Silvermine and worked with alien clearing. I wore a lot of different hats.”
She applied for the training, becoming one of five women. “I did not expect to see so many girls and we all made it through the training,” she says.
N then applied to be a canine handler and met the dogs on the first day. “We had to take a dog for a walk on Lower Lion’s Head. They paired us up according to our personalities,” she says, describing herself as calm but capable of aggression.
Her Dutch shepherd Leah is trained in detection of ammunition and abalone, tracking and apprehension which involves bite work. When the bark strippers were caught, N and Leah escorted them out of the forest.
Their capture signals a breakthrough for law enforcement, according to the Newlands Forest Conservation Group which, along with the Sugarbird Trust, is striving to save its trees.
The demand for illegal bark increases on the black market every day and so our work also increases, We sacrifice a lot of family time to work at night, but we are making a difference
— D, one of the 17 Seam members
“Those four bark strippers were doing huge damage, and making fires. They targeted mature trees and they killed a hundred or more,” says co-founder of the community conservation group Willem Boshoff. “If a rhino is poached, in six years another rhino is mature enough to reproduce. Trees can take 100 years to be replaced.”
To protect mature trees, this year more than 800 have been painted a ghostly grey to contaminate the bark and reduce their value to harvesters, he says, hoping thousands more will be done. “Not a single painted tree has been stripped [all the way],” he says.
The Cape beech, red alder, Cape holly, Cape chestnut, wild peach and assegai are the most vulnerable now that stinkwoods have been nearly wiped out.
Arborist Francois Krige has reported that twigs and leaves of indigenous trees have greater chemical concentration than thick bark.
Boshoff says: “These could be harvested at a low rate without harming trees.”
Humans are not the only enemies of indigenous trees: invasive alien plants also threaten their survival.
To get rid of them, the conservation group has volunteer “hacks” and the Sugarbird Trust, which also funds the tree painting, has five people working full time on clearing.
Eric Kalombo, 30, is clearing Australian and Chinese privet near the trail when we walk past on Monday. “I enjoy this work in nature,” says Kalombo, who is out there even on icy days when forest fans are indoors.
The dog walkers, hikers, runners, cyclists and families who frequent the trails want to see SANParks rangers on the mountain protecting this natural treasure. But, as N says, the Seam rangers are most effective when they are out of sight.
“The moment people see us, they change their behaviour so we want to blend in. We don’t want to be seen.”
• Table Mountain National Park urges the public to continue helping in the fight against environmental crime and report any suspicious activity on 086-110-6417.
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