Along the muddy bends of the Magdalena River, the water moves slowly through reeds and shadow.

Fishermen cast their nets at dawn. Birds rise from the banks in pale bursts. The air hangs thick with heat and insects, and in the distance—where the river widens and the grass grows tall—there are shapes that do not belong. Great gray backs. Small ears flicking. Eyes just above the waterline, watching.

In Colombia, even the ghosts have multiplied.

They are called the “cocaine hippos,” descendants of four animals once imported in the 1980s by Pablo Escobar for the private zoo at Hacienda Nápoles, his sprawling estate built in the years when money moved faster than law. After Escobar’s death in 1993, the animals were left behind. The fences weakened. The gates failed. The river accepted them.

And the river has been carrying the consequences ever since.

This month, Colombia’s government announced plans to cull 80 of the invasive hippos as part of a broader effort to slow a population that has grown to around 160—some estimates say closer to 200—and could exceed 500 by 2030 if left unchecked. Environmental officials say the animals threaten native ecosystems, damage riverbanks, compete with local species such as manatees and turtles, and increasingly pose risks to nearby communities.

Yet before the plan could fully begin, another offer arrived from far across the ocean.

In western India, amid the dry heat of Gujarat and the industrial skyline of Jamnagar, Anant Ambani—son of billionaire industrialist Mukesh Ambani—announced he would take them.

Eighty of them.

Enough, perhaps, to change the argument.

Ambani has formally asked Colombia to halt the cull and allow what he describes as a “safe, scientifically led translocation” of the hippos to Vantara, his wildlife rescue and conservation center. The sanctuary, which says it houses more than 150,000 animals across thousands of species, has offered to fund the capture, transport, veterinary care, and long-term housing of the animals in a specially designed habitat.

“These 80 hippos did not choose where they were born,” Ambani said in a public statement.

And in that sentence, the story shifts.

Because Colombia’s hippo dilemma has always lived somewhere between ecology and emotion.

The animals are invasive. That much is clear. Scientists warn that their waste alters waterways, their feeding disrupts plant life, and their presence changes the chemistry of rivers in one of the most biodiverse regions on Earth. They are also dangerous—capable of attacking humans, overturning boats, and injuring livestock.

But they are also alive.

And strangely beloved.

Tourists travel to see them. Locals tell stories about them. Their existence has become one of the most surreal remnants of Escobar’s long shadow over Colombia: an absurd inheritance, equal parts curiosity and ecological crisis.

The Colombian government has tried other paths before.

Sterilization programs were launched, but proved slow and expensive. Previous relocation efforts stalled under bureaucracy and cost concerns. In 2023, officials explored moving dozens of hippos abroad, including to India, but plans collapsed amid logistical and regulatory barriers. This new proposal may face the same questions: biosecurity permits, international transport rules, veterinary risks, and the challenge of moving several-ton animals across continents.

Even in India, questions linger.

Can hippos thrive in Gujarat’s punishing summer heat? Will the sanctuary provide genuine conservation or simply another kind of captivity? Critics of Vantara have raised concerns about transparency and animal sourcing, though investigations have not found wrongdoing.

Still, for now, the offer stands.

In Colombia, the river keeps moving.

The hippos surface and sink in the warm brown water. Their ears twitch. Their heavy bodies carve paths through wetlands they were never meant to inhabit.

Somewhere in Bogotá, officials weigh science against sentiment.

Somewhere in Jamnagar, preparations may already be imagined in steel enclosures and transport crates.

And somewhere in the strange afterlife of Pablo Escobar’s empire, four imported animals have become a diplomatic question between continents.

The story is absurd.

And tender.

And deeply human.

A nation trying to repair an ecosystem.

A billionaire heir trying to save animals from death.

A river carrying the consequences of a dead man’s extravagance.

And in the reeds of the Magdalena, beneath dragonflies and morning mist, the hippos wait—silent, half-submerged, and unaware that their fate is now being argued in languages they will never hear.

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Sources CNN Reuters El País The Guardian CBS News