Giraffes – where does their story end?

in Biodiversity

Giraffes – where does their story end?

Every morning as I drive out of camp, before the sun stretches its fingers over the Lebombo mountains, I see them. Tall shadows gliding silently through the knobthorn savanna, the giraffe, our peaceful giants. Here in the N’wanetsi Concession, we are privileged. This region holds the highest density of giraffe anywhere in Kruger, and some days I’ll count over 30 before breakfast. But despite their apparent abundance here, we’re not blind to what’s happening across the rest of southern Africa. The silent decline of giraffe populations is a reality we live with every day.

I’ve been guiding in Greater Kruger for over a decade now, and giraffes have always been part of my daily rhythm. Their calm demeanour, awkward grace, and sky-scraping stature never get old – not to me, not to our guests. They are so iconically African that it’s almost unthinkable that they could disappear. And yet, across southern Africa, giraffe populations have been quietly shrinking under the weight of pressures that often go unnoticed.

Back in the ‘80s, Africa’s giraffe population stood at over 150 000. Today, that number is closer to 97 000. That’s a 40% drop in just one generation. In some countries, like Zambia and Angola, the decline has been particularly steep. Giraffes may still seem common in protected areas like Kruger, but overall, they’ve been dubbed the “forgotten giants” of African conservation – declining silently while more attention is paid to elephants and rhinos.

Here in Singita Kruger National Park, we see the southern giraffe subspecies – Giraffa giraffa giraffa. These animals are resilient, adaptable, and thankfully, thriving in this corner of the park. But beyond Kruger’s borders, their fate is less secure.

There’s no single culprit behind the giraffes’ decline. It’s a combination of intertwined issues:

Habitat loss is by far the biggest threat. Across the continent, expanding agriculture, settlements, and infrastructure developments are slicing up their ranges into disconnected pockets, leaving giraffes stranded without access to seasonal resources or safe breeding grounds.
Poaching is another ugly reality. While giraffes aren’t targeted as aggressively as rhinos or elephants, in some regions they are hunted for meat, bones, and even superstitious purposes. Their body parts are sold illegally as charms or bushmeat, particularly in areas where law enforcement is weak.
Climate change brings increasingly unpredictable weather. Droughts like the one we experienced in 2016 don’t just dry up waterholes – they shrink the thornveld and the acacias that these browsers depend on. We watched giraffes lose condition that year, struggling through dusty plains in search of greenery.
Human - wildlife conflict also plays a role. As giraffes are pushed out of protected areas, they increasingly come into contact with people. In some rural regions, desperate farmers view them as pests and take matters into their own hands.

The habitat here, a blend of rolling grasslands, rocky ridges, and riparian thickets supports an incredible range of food sources. The open savannas allow giraffes to move freely, and the relative remoteness of the concession limits human disturbance. Add to that the protection from SANParks and conservation partners like Singita, and we have a recipe for long-term giraffe safety.

But that doesn’t mean we can be complacent. As a guide, I consider myself both a storyteller and a steward. When I stop the game vehicle near a group of giraffes, I don’t just talk about ossicones and tongue length. I tell the story of their vulnerability. I point out how their numbers are vanishing elsewhere, and I remind our guests that this beauty we’re witnessing is precious, and not guaranteed.

Education is one of the most powerful conservation tools we have. When guests go home with a deeper appreciation of what’s at stake, they become advocates. Sometimes, that’s where change begins.

We’re lucky here in the N’wanetsi concession. Every sunset drive ends with the silhouettes of giraffe necks etched against the fiery horizon. But I can’t help thinking of other guides, in other parts of Africa, who haven’t seen a giraffe in years. I hope that through continued protection, community collaboration, and cross-border conservation efforts, we’ll never have to say the same.

Until then, I’ll keep doing what I do – guiding, watching, recording, and most of all, telling their story.