The Christening of Tigers in India

Wildlife photography aside, a well-informed naturalist can make all the difference between a good safari and a mediocre one. A well informed as well as communicative naturalist ensures you don’t just enjoy the safari, but also return with a profusion of interesting trivia. Fortunately, we’ve had the well informed and the communicative kind accompanying us on most of our safaris. Their vast knowledge of every plant, animal, and even insect species never ceases to amaze me. Of all the trivia and tidbits of information that I’ve picked up over the years if there’s one thing I derive great pleasure from, is understanding how a tiger was christened. There’s always an interesting and sometimes amusing story behind this.

The famous Spotty scent marks a tree

Tigers, once identified, are given unique IDs by the forest department. You have the usual T series such as T - 31, T-2 and so on, which are used for official purposes such as tiger census and record maintenance. That said, the naturalists and forest guards usually christen the resident cats with names that are assigned either because of an incident, a unique personality trait, or sometimes because they think it’s endearing to call a tiger by a particular name. This blog is the story of these tigers and how they earned their names. While I’ve had the privilege of photographing some of these big cats, there are others I wish to see very soon and some others I can no longer hope to see because they’re now dead.

Our guide and driver Sultan, who accompanied us on 6 safaris in Bandhavgarh, was a man of few words and many years of experience, first as a forest guard, then a mahout, and finally as the driver of safari jeeps. That said, a little persuasion and small talk later, he opened up with some rather amusing anecdotes about the popular tigers at Bandhavgarh.

Charger, the dominant male that breathed its last in September 2000, earned its name because of his aggressive disposition and penchant for charging at safari jeeps and elephants. Before you jump to any conclusions, let me make it clear that he did not, in the 17 years that he lived, harm any humans.

“Charger would silently await the unsuspecting jeeps to come close before jumping out from behind the tall grass and rushing forward. He always stopped short a few meters from the vehicle, growling menacingly at the terrified tourists. He was a large, handsome male, albeit a ferocious one,” explained Sultan.

Once familiar with Charger’s antics, the guides and drivers were extra vigilant when they drove into his territory, always on the lookout for an impending charge or an unexpected roar. It is said that this fearless beast didn’t refrain from charging at elephants either. I wonder how I’d have reacted if I were in the jeep that ran into Charger. Would my hands shake with fear, would I manage to take photographs? Sadly, I’ll never know the answers to this questions, for the legendary Charger, after the death of his mate Sita, the matriarch of Bandhavgarh, met his end too.

Hungry for more, we requested Sultan for more stories. He grunted incoherently, before clearing his throat.

“Then there’s Pannalal…” he began.

“Pannalal?” I quipped, intrigued and amused by the personification of the animals.

He threw me an annoyed glance before continuing.

“We named him Pannalal because he wandered from the Panna Tiger Reserve into Bandhavgarh.”   

Well, so much for creativity, I thought, disappointed because Sultan settled into one of his long silences again. Traversing a distance of almost 210 kilometers is a bit too much for a tiger, whose territory normally ranges from 60 to 100 square kilometers. Was he in search of a mate? Was it the lack of prey? Or was he driven out by another more dominant male? No one really knows, for not much has been documented about the reason behind Pannalal’s migration from Panna to Bandhavgarh.  

While Pannalal and Charger were two tigers I haven't photographed, the former because I haven’t been fortunate enough to see him yet, there’s one rather popular tigress I did see and capture on camera - Spotty, a tigress I have written about in detail previously. Now, it makes sense if a leopard were to be named Spotty, evidently because of the rosettes that adorn its sinewy body. But Spotty, the tigress?

Spotty, along with one of her daughters

“There’s a ‘T’ shaped spot on her forehead,” explained Sultan, “hence she’s Spotty!”

I barely managed to suppress a smile. Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out the so-called T shape, but I wasn’t about to argue with the expert.

“Spotty has a sister, Dotty. It rhymes,” he shrugged.

That evening, as we huddled by the bonfire, munching delicious paneer fritters and sipping some piping hot ginger tea, I thought a chat with the resort manager might throw some light on the tigers of Bandhavgarh.

“We’ve known and track these tigers right from birth. The naturalists coin unique names for the big cats, and the most popular ones stick,” he explained, the tea having loosened his tongue.

“For instance, there’s ‘Bhagodi’...she bolts into the nearest thicket every time she hears a jeep and Solo… no prizes for guessing why it’s called Solo,” he guffawed. Clearly, the person who christened these animals wasn’t having a very good day.

Closer to home, the Nagarhole and Bandipur Tiger Reserves boast a very healthy population of tigers. The Tiger Tank Tigress and her cubs, as well as the Powerline cubs, enjoy a celebrity status in Nagarhole and it’s safe to assume that almost no photographer who spends a couple of days patiently waiting to capture them on camera goes home disappointed. Celebrity status aside, their names elicited not more than a yawn from me. Unlike the naming of the dominant male in Bandipur, the naming of the Nagarahole Tigers that I photographed didn’t have a story that interested me.

Speaking of the dominant Bandipur male, after the passing of Prince, the famous tiger that attracted photographers from far and wide, another male soon acquired his predecessor’s territory. Such is the way of nature. He was the Basavanna Katte male, also addressed as Mahadesha.  

When I first laid eyes on Mahadesha, I was astonished by his size. He was handsome and big for a six-year-old tiger and very confident in his stride. Mahadesha settled down behind a bund, giving us ample time to admire and photograph him. Satiated, we drove back to camp, my head full of questions about his rather interesting name.

"There was a forest officer, who’d decided to name his son Mahadesha. However, when he had a daughter instead, he christened this cub ‘Mahadesha’, which coincidentally, was born around the same time. Mahadesha is like his son," one of the naturalists explained when I enquired. A delightful story indeed!

Although I’ve had the good fortune to spend time and photograph some of these tigers, I wish I could travel back in time to observe this one tigress that Valmik Thapar discusses in great detail in his book, The Secret Life of Tigers. She was the tigress, Noon.

Noon walked the jungles of Ranthambore in the 80s before she was killed by poachers. Her diurnal hunting nature earned her the name, as she mainly hunted during the day, especially between mid-morning and noon, a behavior unlike the rest of her kind. Trained by their mother, Noon’s cubs emulated similar hunting techniques, stalking and killing their prey during the day. Perhaps it was Noon’s bold and trusting nature that led to her unnatural demise, robbing many wildlife lovers and conservationists of their chance to spend time with her.

Compared to the numbers in the 80s and the 90s, there are many more tigers that walk the jungles of India today. Some like the late Noon, Prince, Charger, Machali and Genghis Khan were famous, while there were others who were born and lived in anonymity. I only hope that I’m fortunate enough to observe, photograph, and write about these majestic cats in time to come.

From the Bandhavgarh Diaries : Tala Tales and Tiger Trivia

Writing about Bandhavgarh wasn’t easy. I wasn’t sure where to begin. Should I describe the beauty of the jungle that’s home to huge Sal trees and small nullahs that traverse through the vegetation, or should I talk about the vast grasslands that conceal both predator and prey? Perhaps I should begin with the astonishingly high tiger movement and instances of pugmarks everywhere that make Bandhavgarh unique or mention the safari through the forest on a cold winter morning that began with a drive through the grasslands and ended up with the jeep negotiating some steep, rocky curves like a mountain goat. 

Spotty calling out to her cubs

Our journey began with two plane rides ( from Bangalore to Hyderabad and Hyderabad to Jabalpur) and a 3-hour drive to Umaria district in Madhya Pradesh, after which we finally reached our resort that was located at a convenient 15-minute drive from the famous Tala zone. Exhausted as we were, we couldn’t wait for the safaris to begin. 

Boasting the highest tiger density in the world, Bandhavgarh National Park gets its name from the Bandhavgarh Fort that’s nearly 2000 years old. Of the 3 zones in the core area, namely Tala, Magadhi and Khitauli, Tala is most popular owing to the high probability of spotting the majestic tiger, closely followed by Magadhi. Considering this was our first visit to Bandhavgarh, we wanted nothing but the best and naturally chose Tala. 

The diverse vegetation of the Tala Zone allures you with its lakes set against the backdrop of vast hills and endless grasslands. If you’re fortunate enough to drive through this part of the forest towards the end of your safari, you can witness the captivating sunset that envelopes the tall grass in its warm glow. 

The Tala Zone is further divided into 4 routes, i.e A, B, C and D according to their respective carrying capacities and to further regulate the number of vehicles that enter the park. Although each route has its resident tigers, we were hoping to spot one of the most photographed and bold tigresses in recent times - Spotty. As we entered the B route on that memorable day, little did we know that a treat awaited us. Following a rather uneventful hour, we’d resigned ourselves to the fact that the rest of the safari would be like the first half, with nothing to see but a couple of chital grazing peacefully. 

As we drove on, with just 30 minutes to go before we were to head back, we spied a couple of safari vehicles congregated at a bend, the people excitedly clicking pictures. Not to miss out on the action, we caught up with them, only to find two of Spotty’s daughters regaling in the limelight as the tourists furiously clicked away. 

My husband and I whipped out our cameras and tried to get a good shot, only to be blocked by several safari jeeps that simply refused to budge. My heart sank at the prospect of going back without a single good picture of two nearly grown tigresses in a single frame. That’s when our driver, a burly man who knew that jungle and its denizens like the back of his hand, stuck the gear into reverse and backed up in the opposite direction. 

“Why are we going away from all the action?” I asked, flummoxed. 

“Patience madam. You’ll get some great shots in some time,” was all he said. A man of few words, our determined driver purposefully drove ahead, while we kept our cameras ready, just in case an opportunity presented itself. We soon reached a bend, to the left of which were trees and tall grass, while the right had a small, dry streambed surrounded by more trees. Here we came to a halt,  the occupants of our jeep still and alert for the smallest movement or sound. 

One of Spotty's sub-adult cubs responds to her mother's calls

Sure enough, a few seconds later, emerged a tigress, walking nonchalantly towards the track. Sniffing the air, she moaned, her deep throated calls reverberating through the forest.

“She’s calling out to her cubs,” whispered our driver. 

I was trembling with excitement. The two large, female sub-adult cubs, upon hearing their mother call bounded happily towards her, closely followed by the third one. I hoped for one tiger, and managed to see four instead! This encounter, however, wasn’t just about photography. It was also a valuable and rare lesson on tiger behavior in the wild. Until now, I’d only read about how social tigers can be. Although solitary hunters, they have a very strong family structure and bond. This was evident when the mother, none other than the popular Spotty, licked and nuzzled her cubs for a very long time. The cubs, gamboling playfully, were oblivious to their human audience. Our reverie was broken by the driver who reminded us that it was time to exit the reserve. As we proceeded to the exit, my heart longing to spend a little more time with this family of tigresses, I knew that on our next visit, we probably wouldn’t see them together. 

Nature grooms every animal for survival and procreation. In the case of tigers, once the cubs are old enough to hunt on their own, normally when they’re between 24 to 30 months old, the mothers push them out of their territory. It is very common for the dominant adult offspring to fight and often win over their mother’s territory, relegating the older female to the fringes or in search of a new place to mate and litter once again. It’s a tough battle for survival out there; but such is life in the jungle. Whether Spotty’s cubs will survive another monsoon by themselves and carry her strong genetic pool forward or if they’ll succumb to the perils that await them, only time can tell. Until such time, we were content in the knowledge that they had a couple of more months of frolicking and hunting lessons ahead of them.