I Studied Rhinos For 50 Years Without Ever Looking At One
It turns out I got some things wrong.
Dear colleagues and committee members,
It has recently come to my attention that I have gotten some things wrong about the rhinoceros during my 54 years of researching it. This is due largely to the fact that up until yesterday I have refused to look at one.
And it was not merely in-person rhino encounters that I hitherto avoided during my extensive research; in fact, I have shunned all photographs and caricatures of rhinos up until now as well. This decision was based on the strong scientific belief that looking directly at one’s object of study was unnecessary (and in many cases, even considered “rude”).
But all that changed yesterday when I was browsing the “internet” and accidentally stumbled upon an extremely high-resolution image of a rhinoceros for the first time. I don’t have to tell you, my friends, that I was a bit taken aback by the sight. What a creature! Those feet, those horns… It’s hard to believe something like that is just roaming around the Alps.
Of course, once the initial shock of seeing this hideous beast for the first time had worn off, I realized a fair amount of my work will require some tweaks and revisions going forward.
For instance, I would respectfully ask that you all disregard my 1989 publication, “Rhinoceroses: The Bipedal Ape-Creatures with Human Teeth.”
Rhinos, it turns out, use all four legs to maneuver the earth, and you would be hard-pressed to find a picture of one of them standing upright (I tried very hard to find this).
The rhino’s horn is also not “located in its arm pits,” as I noted repeatedly in my 1994 essay “How A Rhino Gets Its Stripes.” Rather, the horn is located on its nose (this was an unfortunate and unexpected discovery). Likewise, despite all evidence to the contrary, a rhino does not have perceivable “stripes” across its wings, as stated in the same publication.
But despite these few needed adjustments, dear colleagues, please know that I am not ashamed of my extensive body of work, and I remain proud of my research and accomplishments (though I’ll admit I’m kicking myself for 1979’s “Why Rhinos Wear Horn-Rimmed Glasses” piece).
Had I known what rhinos looked like when I first began my studies 54 years ago, I probably would have chosen a different animal — perhaps something smaller and with human teeth, such as the giraffe.
As it is, I would like to withdraw the submitted cover design for my upcoming book, “What Exactly Does a Rhino Look Like?”
I will be revising this slightly and submitting a new design to the committee in the upcoming months.
In the meantime, my research assistants will also be aiding me with immediate revisions to the following publications:
“How The Rhino Uses Its Giant Claws To Gather Berries” (1974)
“Rhinos of a Feather: How The Rhinoceros Builds Community With Its Plumage” (1981)
“Understanding A Rhino’s Moist, Supple Lips” (1997)
“My Life Getting Everything Right About Rhinos: A Memoir” (2006)
I hope to have updates over to you for review soon.
Friends, these past 24 hours I’ve learned there’s much truth in the old adage, “Science is often about ballparking it.” Just as Edison learned 1,000 ways not to make a lightbulb, so I have learned 1,000 ways not to make a rhino.
I’ve never claimed to be a flawless researcher (except in my memoir on pages 7, 8, 15, 44, 43, 79, 111, 116, 223, 441, 632, Appendix and Acknowledgments), and the truth is you’re never too old to continue learning new things about this bulky, mysterious creature that is the rhino. I for one am excited about what discoveries lie ahead now that I understand a rhino is not a flying ape creature with giant lobster claws. I hope you’ll join me in the next chapter of this lifelong quest for knowledge.
You’re sincerely,
