In early 2023, two rhinos were killed using electrified traps wired through a temple near Chaparchuli in western Chitwan. The brutality was shocking, but the symbolism was louder—it ended a decade of near-zero poaching and questioned the strength of Nepal’s celebrated conservation model.
Between 2011 and 2020, Nepal recorded long spells of no rhino poaching — an impressive feat where policymakers, rangers, and communities managed to align around maintaining zero poaching of greater one-horned rhinos.
But recently, tendencies reversed. In Chitwan alone, monthly forest crime cases jumped from two dozen to nearly 180 by mid-2020. How to explain this reversal? What caused the long period of peace for the rhino, and what made poachers come back after all these years?
Grassroots Vigilance
The population of the buffer zones surrounding the nature parks where rhinos dwell gradually lost its long-lasting interest in poaching over recent decades because of the impact of animal-friendly campaigning and, maybe more effectively, the introduction of community-based anti-poaching units (CBAPUs) that fuelled grassroots vigilance because it was laced with incentives. It’s easier to leave the rhinos alone if you are getting paid to do so.
The first major blow came when COVID-19 struck. The pandemic led to the collapse of tourism, resulting in the loss of income for the buffer-zone villages. Budget cuts subsequently led to the scaling back of patrols and to shelving the incentive programme. The population and the rhinos were left to their own devices.
What was once a high-functioning protective web eventually frayed. Having noticed the changes, poachers adapted their methods. They no longer relied solely on traditional methods like guns or spears; they turned to quieter, deadlier tricks. This led to the terrifying electrocution incident in the temple.
A Cautious Silence
The authorities managed to arrest nine suspects, and Chitwan National Park tightened security. Within days, the situation was under control. In April 2025, Information Officer Abhinash Thapa Magar reported that Chitwan National Park had accumulated another 516 days without a single rhino being killed.
Yet there were no celebrations. Unlike previous years, there were no big declarations or donor-backed campaigns. Instead, there was a cautious silence, possibly caused by a lack of clarity around ongoing anti-poaching policies. The national rhino census, originally slated for spring 2025, was shelved due to funding shortfalls. A major USAID-backed project—meant to equip rangers with GPS devices, camera traps, and even elephant-mounted census teams—was unexpectedly halted.
Between 2021 and 2022, Bardiya’s local census was paused after rhino numbers dropped from 38 to 26. Conservationists blamed shifting watercourses, habitat sedimentation, and possible migration, but it’s hard to separate facts from fear without concrete data.
The Most Fragile Link
This vacuum of information, without updated numbers, makes the nation’s rhino strategy reactive. Are rhinos dying naturally from age or tiger encounters? Or is the authority underestimating hidden poaching incidents?
What if the overcrowding in Chitwan—where over 90% of Nepal’s rhinos now live—is silently creating new threats like territorial fights and increased human-wildlife conflict?
However, efforts have been made in response. In 2024, six rhinos were relocated from western to eastern Chitwan in hopes of easing pressure from flooding and tiger zones. Although logical, the move sparked concerns from tourism operators worried about fewer rhino sightings and from conservationists wary of the risks involved in translocation without solid monitoring systems in place.
Perhaps the most fragile link in this story lies not in the forests but in the people. The roles of the communities have shrunk. The buffer-zone funds from park revenue supporting schools, clinics, and roads dried up.
Locals are caught between feeding their families and protecting wildlife without an alternative income. Kumar Paudel, a conservationist, has long argued that wildlife policies devoid of social realities will result in short-lived progress.
People-powered
Therefore, discussions are underway to retrain former poachers as eco-guides or intelligence sources. Drone surveillance and sniffer dogs are being deployed more frequently, and the country is strengthening intelligence sharing with India and China to crack down on cross-border trafficking. However, reports from the UNODC and wildlife experts in southern Africa show that wildlife crimes are finding a way back wherever funding disappears.
What does the absence of reported killings since the Chaparchuli incident mean? Is that a success? People don’t know.
The lack of census data, limited community funding, and rising conservation fatigue hint at a more complex reality. Surveillance alone is not going to restore the era of zero poaching. It will require building trust—between villagers and park officials, between policy and practice—and embracing a more holistic approach that includes ecology, technology, livelihoods, and cultural memory.
Conservation should be people-powered. Once a community has the support, then it can safeguard a unique and precious being like the one-horned rhino.
Sudipa Mahato is a junior editor with Nepal Connect.
