Tiger Tales from Corbett

Sometimes you drive into the jungle for hours without so much as a glimpse of the big cats, elephants, or the nervous ungulates. There are times when your luck runs out and the birds, which would otherwise fill the air with a cacophony of calls, decide not to make an appearance either. In times like this, the naturalist or driver accompanying you tries to drive the boredom away and keeps you interested by recounting thrilling experiences or jungle lore.

The breathtaking landscape of Corbett

I returned from my trip to Corbett Tiger Reserve with not only a memory card full of wildlife pictures, but also with some exciting, and sometimes frightening and tragic stories from the jungles. Perhaps some of the stories that I recount here are true, perhaps some peppered with exaggeration from the narrators; there’s no way for me to corroborate. That said,I do believe that those who narrated these tales had no reason to spin a yarn, for I have read about experiences such as these in several books. They certainly don’t sound far-fetched to me.

Our driver Dilsher was a man of few words. He spoke when spoken to, and refrained from what he considered an unnecessary use of the vocal cords. It was only towards the tail end of our safaris, as he got to know us better, did he open up, narrating some gripping tales about the tigers that walk this jungle. 

“I was a young boy when this happened,” began Dilsher. 

“My uncle gathered twigs, dead wood, and dry leaves from the forest floor. A friend of his usually accompanied him during these trips, and they would go deep into the woods, mounted on elephants. We wouldn’t worry so much about their safety, because tigers, as a rule, don’t bother humans unless provoked or if they’re physically incapacitated to hunt. Moreover, the elephants acted as deterrents to the big cats. That fateful day, he gathered enough twigs and wood and decided to call it a day when he noticed one piece that he’d missed. As he bent over to pick it up, a terrible roar reverberated through the jungle and a big male tiger pounced on him, its powerful claws gripping his skull.”

Dilsher closed his eyes, trying to recollect what must have been a painful memory.

“His loyal elephant, hearing his master’s screams struggled to break the chain that bound its legs while precious seconds ticked by. His friend, who was not too far away when this happened, heard the commotion and rushed to his aid, thankfully riding on his elephant. Meanwhile, the chained elephant managed to break free and rushed to his master’s rescue. The disturbance annoyed the tiger, who mercifully failed to break its victim’s neck as tigers usually do, and the shaitaan scampered into the thicket. His friend brought my uncle back, profusely bleeding, but alive. Despite the multiple reconstructive surgeries, he lacks one ear and has a fleshy mess for a scalp,” finished Dilsher, as we drove into the forest rest house premises for the night. 

The Gairal Guest house 

I’d like to believe that providence kept Dilsher’s uncle alive. Perhaps it was the crouching position assumed by the man as he bent down to gather firewood that led the tiger to attack, mistaking the human to be one of the four-legged herbivores that are part of a tiger’s natural diet. However, when it comes to wild animals, there are no rules that apply. Just like there are people among us who exhibit deviant behavior for no reason whatsoever, sometimes perfectly healthy tigers also resort to behavior that’s unbecoming for their species. 

The following day, after a good night’s sleep at the forest guest house, we set off on what was to be our last safari in the Dhikala zone. We drove around for a while before coming to a halt at a spot that was said to be frequented by a particular tiger. To our right was a small, albeit picturesque waterhole, carefully covered by trees and shrubs. To our left were the sal trees casting their long shadows across the jungle floor.  

"Let’s wait here," said Dilsher, turning off the engine. 

We waited in silence, enjoying the cool morning breeze that gently caressed the leaves. A couple of minutes had passed with no sign of the tiger, when Dilsher, uncharacteristically, started to narrate another tale involving the same tiger that we were waiting for. This time the incident involved him and another tourist. 

“Last summer, we halted at the same spot, waiting for the tiger to make an appearance. It was after lunch, and the combination of the summer heat and the occasional jungle breeze lulled me to sleep. I’d turned off the engine, and after waiting for almost 30 minutes, dozed off. A couple of minutes later, I woke briefly and turned around to see that my guest, a lady was also asleep. The tiger wasn’t coming, and the heat was oppressive. I thought another short snooze would be nice. Soon, the two of us were fast asleep, when all of a sudden, I felt an inexplicable sense of danger. I opened my eyes slowly at first, and then wide in shock, as I saw before me a fully grown tiger, its forelegs outstretched on the bonnet. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. Avoiding all eye contact, I lowered my head, hoping it would go away. The lady, in the meanwhile, also awoke and let out an audible gasp. I suppose I was relieved she didn’t scream. The tiger, its curiosity aroused, decided to investigate and circled the vehicle, sniffing it with great interest. My body felt like ice, and I am sure the lady felt the same too, for there wasn’t the slightest movement from us.”

“The tiger, by now, was bored, and just as suddenly as it had appeared, it walked away nonchalantly. We thanked our maker as we watched the beast vanish into the thicket. I asked the madam if she’d like to finish the rest of the safari. She told me to forget it and head to the nearest forest rest house, as she had to use the bathroom. Truth be told, so did I. I’ve never been more terrified in my life as I was that day,” he finished. 

I’m not sure how I’d react, should something like that happen to me. I looked around, imagining the tiger stretching itself on the bonnet. Something between excitement and fear ran down my spine as I replayed the story in my mind.

We did see a tigress that day, but from a reasonably safe distance. That was our last safari with Dilsher, but we did have one more in the Bijrani zone and one in the Jhirna zone. I hoped that the other driver had more stories for us. I wasn’t disappointed. 

The following morning, we met Jalees, a cheerful young man, who was to be our driver for the next two days. Jalees, it turned out, enjoyed conversing with guests, and regaled us with interesting stories and trivia during his tenure at the Corbett National Park. Of all the narratives we heard, one stands out from the rest. It’s the story of his unfortunate neighbor. 

There are some parts of Ramnagar town that borders the Tiger Reserve. In one place, I observed the human habitation is demarcated by a concrete wall that overlooks the jungle. It was apparently here that this incident took place. 

“Summer in North India is merciless,” began Jalees, warming up to the subject.

“Sometimes on an unbearably hot day, some people sleep with the front door open, although that’s not the smartest thing to do. This happened many years ago to the man who lived opposite my house.”

“We awoke to the sound of someone screaming in the middle of the night. My father and I rushed outside, and what we saw chilled us to the bone. Our neighbor, on a particularly hot night, had left his front door partially open. A wandering tigress, her curiously aroused, peeked in and grabbed the sleeping man by his ankle, yanking him like a rag doll. Dragging her surprised victim, she managed to pull him out into the open, while his family screamed in terror. The village was up, and soon, some of the brave men pelted the tigress with stones, hoping she’d let go of her prospective dinner and bound back into the jungle.”

“The tigress,  brave as she was, stood her ground. While she let go of her grip on the man’s ankle, she didn’t flee from the spot. Instead, she just sat down, possessively guarding my neighbor, who by now, had gone into shock.”

“Then what happened?” I asked anxiously. 

“A forest officer, whose residence was close by, was alerted. It was only when he shot twice in the air did she make a hasty exit,” said Jalees.

“My neighbor, though, did not survive. The trauma and loss of blood killed him,” he concluded sadly.

As we drove back through the Bijrani zone that evening, I noticed several hutments and small homes within the reserve, just a couple of meters from the exit gate. I saw women gathering leaves, and children playing with gay abandon. I am certain that if I had the opportunity to talk to some of the people who lived here, I’d return with many more stories, some perhaps unfortunate and alarming. Why do these people choose to live in such dangerous proximity to wild animals? 

“We understand wild animals. They seldom attack without provocation. If a tiger chooses to maul and kill one of us, it’s because we’ve occupied their homes; but where else do we go? We do not understand why people molest, loot, and kill each other. It’s complicated. This jungle has been our home for generations, and if sharing the space means skirmishes with wildlife, then it’s kismet,” a naturalist employed from a tribal village once told me. 

The simplicity and wisdom of his thought made me realize that human-animal conflict has been and will continue to be an unavoidable part of the lives of those who share their living space with animals. Yet, these wild animals, including tigers, are noble beasts that bear no malice towards the two-legged creatures that walk these jungles with their rifles cocked, their chests puffed up, and senses alert for the slightest movement or sound. 

Wildlife of India: The Past, Present, and the Future

I must’ve been in high school when I was first presented with my very own copy of Jim Corbett’s book, “The Temple Tiger and Man-Eaters of Kumaon.” I devoured the pages in no time, and soon, hungered for more. My love affair with the jungles of India had begun. Corbett followed Rudyard Kipling, Kenneth Anderson, Valmik Thapar, and the list grew lengthier by the day. Little did I know back then, that someday I’d tour these incredible jungles with a camera in hand and a wild imagination in tow, looking for a good picture or a subject for an article.  Until then, my imagination was peppered with thoughts of tigers stalking unsuspecting deer, herds of gaur grazing peacefully, of leopards leaping from one branch to another, and of crocodiles slinking into the murky depths of a vast river. 

Jungle fowl engaged in a spat

Today, as I listen to the alarm calls of a spotted deer, sitting patiently in a safari jeep, I consider myself to be one of the fortunate few whose dream of capturing these memories on camera has finally come alive. A huge credit for this goes to the conservationists, forest department personnel, and all those who’ve battled for the protection and preservation of Indian jungles and its wildlife, making it possible for the likes of me to enjoy what remains of the flora and fauna in modern India.

The protection of endangered species and the forest cover is an ongoing battle, one that must be fought relentlessly at all times so that the generation after us isn’t relegated to photographing animals and birds at the zoo. Before the former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi launched Project Tiger in 1973, the population of these striped cats was on a rapid decline. By 1971, it is believed that a mere 1800 tigers remained in the wild. The demand was such that tiger skins adorned the living rooms of bureaucrats, nawabs and the elite of India and abroad.  It wasn’t just the taxidermists who had a field day, but also poachers who hunted and sold various body parts of tigers, monitor lizards and elephants, and a host of other species, to anyone willing to buy them. From marketing them as powerful aphrodisiacs to talismans, 19th century India saw a vulgar display of wild animal body parts as ornamental pieces.

An elephant herd by the banks of Kabini

Over the years, having toured numerous jungles across the sub-continent and read innumerable books on wildlife in India, I have come to the conclusion it isn’t all black and white as far as wildlife conservation is concerned. On one end of the spectrum are the experts who raise awareness and invest their heart and soul in the protection of critical species, and on the other end are the hapless villagers and tribal people who’ve lost crops, livestock, their homes and in some cases, lives to wild animals. Caught in the crossfire is the Forest Department whose main purpose today has become to strike a balance between the two.

A leopard in Nagarahole National Park

What then is the future of wildlife in India? Are we doing enough to put an end to forest degradation and wildlife protection? A small, but crucial, part of the answer lies in Wildlife Tourism. Thapar, who invested over 35 years of his life battling for the protection of Tigers in India, said that the future of Indian wildlife lies in Wildlife Tourism. For many, wildlife tourism may be a double-edged sword, a matter of debate... but I couldn’t agree more. When I think of the future of wildlife in India, I not only envision a thriving tiger and leopard population, but also a healthy percentage of endangered species such as the Barasingha, Black Buck, and larger mammals including elephants and gaur, living unmolested by man. To make this possible, it’s imperative that we protect their homes and ensure they have enough space to establish territories. I emphasize on the importance of territorial space, because animals, especially predators, in most cases are territorial. In the case of elephants, they are creatures of habit, migrating from one part of the forest to another, looking for food and water. As for tigers, the lack of territorial space means an increased risk of human-animal conflict. Simply declaring tigers as protected will not suffice. A sustainable and practical future for these animals starts with prevention of forest degradation and establishing critical animal corridors. All of this boils down to responsible wildlife tourism. For the jungles of tomorrow, the India of today needs to educate the generation of the future. We need to teach them to revere the jungles, love and respect our wildlife. I believe that the foundation has been set by our predecessors who dedicated their lives for preservation and protection of wildlife in India. I’m optimistic that the day is not far when the jungles as I envision them, will become a reality. 

The Unsung Heroes of our Jungles - Part III

The problem of human-animal conflict is one that has plagued conservationists, forest dwellers, those living around reserves, as well as the animals for years. According to the environment ministry, encounters with wildlife saw approximately 1,144 human deaths between April 2014 and May 2017. Although the debate continues, a plausible solution to this challenge does not seem near. 

A leopard leaps off a branch in Nagarahole

Confined to grasslands and dwindling forests, the animals are driven to the fringes in search of food and territorial space. This, most often than not, spells trouble for the animals and the people residing in and around the jungles. Elephants, for instance, are extremely intelligent and shy. Given a choice, they prefer to stay deep inside the vegetation, feasting on succulent bamboo and grass. However, destruction of their natural habitat and crucial elephant corridors has resulted in these majestic creatures venturing out into the open and stumbling onto the paddy and sugarcane fields and in the process, realizing the easy availability of food. From railway tracks to fields and highways, elephants meet a ghastly, untimely end. Then there’s the problem of leopards straying onto highways, or even backyards of those who have homes bordering around forests; although, it’s comparatively rare for a tiger to venture into human habitation, unless looking for cattle. That said, tigers rarely molest human beings. This, I have spoken at length in one of my earlier blogs; so I’d be digressing if I dwell on this subject further.

The increase in incidents of human-animal conflict in recent times put forth a lot of uncomfortable questions, questions that no one has convincing answers to. Yet, it’s not all bad news. Tribal rehabilitation programs, a subject I had touched upon in my previous blog, are underway in Karnataka, while the state’s forest department has left no stone unturned in their effort to minimize the instances of animals in our backyards. So what happens when a wild boar or perhaps a leopard enters private property?

“Once we have confirmation that the information is 99% accurate, our team immediately swings into action, to remove the animal from the property and release it into the forest with as little trauma as possible,” explained a forest officer from the Karnataka Forest Department.

 

The jewel of Nagarhole

With people venturing deep into the jungles in search of firewood and food, the risk of chancing upon a tusker or a tiger is high. This, coupled with the rapid urbanization, means this problem isn’t going away anytime soon. Armed with walkie-talkies, mobile phones, and in the case of beat guards, and above, guns, personnel from the forest department patrol the forests regularly. It’s a tough job indeed; for they not only have to reduce human interference and watch out for forest fires, but also keep their eyes and ears open for poachers.

Speaking of poaching, this is a menace that has plagued the jungles of India since time immemorial. Always on the alert, the guards and foresters patrol national parks and reserves, looking out for suspicious activity and information on poachers. Be it Karnataka or any other forests in India, the demand for ivory, tiger skin and other body parts, as well as game meat has kept anti-poaching squads on their toes. Although, with the formation of the Special Tiger Protection Force, the instances of poaching in prime tiger and elephant reserves has reduced considerably. The Nagarhole Tiger Reserve, for instance, has 30 Anti-Poaching Camps. The beat guards, while on duty, are expected to report everything from animals that have died of natural causes or those who might have been killed by poachers, to the illegal felling of trees. Tracking software and GPS enabled mobiles automatically upload and share the recorded data with the range officer, thereby eliminating the need for manual reports and reducing the margin for error. Additionally, the placement of camera traps and the influx of tourism in certain areas, along with the Central Government’s blessing to protect and preserve what’s left of our wildlife and the green cover, have given the much-needed shot in the arm to the department’s wildlife protection efforts. Another smart move employed by the government is the inclusion of the locals and the tribal people in their anti-poaching drives and forest preservation plans.

I’ve spoken to numerous naturalists attached to various reserves throughout south and some places in central India, and all of them say the same thing; by offering the locals, jobs within the forest department, involving them in anti-poaching and forest protection drives, the government solves two problems at once. First, people have jobs, and second, with at least one member of each family employed by the department, the local population remains invested in conversation and protection efforts; this means the poachers lose local protection and assistance. There are many who poke holes into this plan, but I think it’s a start. Going by the teeming herbivore population in our jungles, and the increased probability of spotting a tiger or leopard in the wild, I’d say the efforts certainly seemed to be paying off.

The Unsung Heroes of our Jungles: Part I

Most of my blogs, so far, have been about my experiences in the jungles of India. The handsome tigers, shy leopards, elephants, wild dogs, or be it any denizen of the forests, my fascination with them is such that they end up as critical aspects of my writing.

Indeed, as a wildlife enthusiast and tourist, I have enjoyed being driven around in safari jeeps, anticipating a pleasant surprise behind a bend, above a tree, or perhaps, by a watering hole. That’s me, the tourist.

At the Nagarhole Checkpost

This time, at the recommendation from one of my readers, I decided that I would take off the tourist hat for a short while, and see the jungles from a different perspective. A perspective that would help me understand the relentless handwork, passion and true love for the jungles that keeps the unsung heroes from the forest department going every single day.

Let’s start with one of Karnataka’s most popular tiger reserves - Nagarahole. The Nagarhole Tiger Reserve, also known as Rajiv Gandhi National Park, witnesses heavy tourist footfall throughout the year. In summer, people from all over the country, and sometimes the world, brave the scorching heat to capture a prized picture of tigers drinking from a watering hole. The summer of 2017, in particular, was unforgiving. The lack of timely rains meant that most of the smaller water bodies were parched. If you’ve visited the popular Tiger Tank at Nagarhole, you surely must have noticed the solar panels, just before the tank. These solar panels are erected to pump water into the smaller water bodies from the borewells maintained by the forest department. During particularly harsh summer months, the personnel from the Karnataka Forest Department not only have to ensure adequate water supply for the animals, but watch out for forest fires, and sometimes put their lives in peril trying to prevent the fires from spreading.

It’s remarkable what it takes to keep the jungles and the tourists safe. Besides setting up anti-poaching camps at strategic locations within the reserves and patrolling in jeeps, motorcycles and on foot, the personnel from the forest department have to deal with another menace that plagues modern civilization these days.

An elephant crosses the busy Mysore- Ooty highway that passes through Bandipur

The “selfie” menace has caught on with an alarming fervor. Almost every day we hear of people run over by trains or falling off buildings, in a bid to gratify their narcissistic desires. Unfortunately, this is a problem that has spread to the jungles as well. Most recently, the newspapers carried an article on a man in Odisha who was trampled to death by an elephant while taking a selfie. On my last trip to Bandipur, I remember a group of noisy men who’d parked at the edge of the highway to Ooty, only to take selfies and yell incomprehensibly at passers-by. Luckily for them, a couple of forest guards on patrol put an end to the cacophony before something untoward happened. I call them lucky because, only 15 minutes after they left, a lone tusker passed the exact spot. Had they still been around, the consequences could’ve been tragic.

Another time, again on the Bandipur-Ooty highway, a couple of tourists were reprimanded by the forest guards for feeding spotted deer with chips! Herbivores such as sambar deer, spotted deer and elephants gather at salt licks or mineral licks inside the reserves to lick essential mineral nutrients from a deposit of salts and other minerals. Sometimes the forest guards create artificial salt licks at strategic points deep inside the forests, so that the animals replenish their sodium reserves by licking the salt off the rocks. The poor, unassuming deer, attracted by the scent of salt and comfortable with human presence, end up eating something that they’re clearly not supposed to.

Besides controlling unruly tourists, poaching, which is rampant in the jungles of India, is a big challenge for the forest department. One morning in January 2017, I woke up to the news that 14 poachers, comprising software engineers, environmental consultants and coffee estate owners, were apprehended by forest department personnel attached to the Bhadra Tiger Reserve. They shot two sambar deer for the meat, the accused confessed. Sometimes it’s the meat, sometimes the skin, the tusks, or various body parts that are believed to be aphrodisiacs - the poaching menace continues to keep the protectors of the forest on the toes. That said, had it not been for the vigilance of the forest department, our forests would be stripped of the diverse, rich, and beautiful flora and fauna.

So, the next time you visit a protected reserve, you might just notice someone, along with his team, quietly working in the background. This man is the RFO or the Range Forest Officer, who’s doing everything he can to ensure the generation after us enjoys the serenity of the jungles as much as we do.

Footnote: I found it impossible to cover everything that the Karnataka Forest Department does in a single blog. As such, I decided it would be best to divide the blog into a three-part series in my attempt to do some justice to their hard work and perseverance. Watch this space for the next blog in this series, where I’ll cover tribal rehabilitation and tourism management in wildlife reserves.

Elephants - The Misunderstood Gentle Giants of the Western Ghats, and their Role in Human-Animal Conflict

If you love nature and wildlife as much as I do, then ERC Davidar’s book, Whispers from the Wild, is a must-read. This masterpiece has the power to transport you back to the jungles, to the time when the forests along the Western Ghats were unmolested and a safe haven for all its wild denizens.

A lone tusker - Nagarhole Reserve

So much has changed since then. Reports of man-animal conflict in local newspapers are common and aplenty. Sometimes it’s elephants trampling passersby to a pulp, a leopard finding its way into the city, or tigers attacking forest guards. Davidar foresaw this problem much before it reared its ugly head and threatened to swallow South India’s green cover. A hunter turned conservationist, he dedicated his life to creating elephant corridors and checking trigger-happy tourists. Today, Karnataka’s pride, the Biligirirangana Reserve, Nagarahole National Park, and the Bandipur Tiger Reserve boast vast species of flora and fauna. From tigers and leopards, to elephants and various birds, it fills my heart with joy to see a thriving animal population in these jungles.

That said, the problem of man-animal conflict looms over our heads like an ominous cloud. The jungles need to be respected and revered. Sadly, this sentiment isn’t shared by everyone. I remember this incident when my husband and I were driving through the Bandipur Reserve, and we saw a group of young men taking pictures against the backdrop of an elephant herd. One of the men, the most foolhardy of the lot, got off the vehicle and stood with his back to the herd. Threatened by this, a female elephant let out a shrill trumpet and charged. Pandemonium ensued, as the terrified man took to his heels, scrambling to get into the vehicle. Thankfully, it was a mock charge, and no one was harmed. But things could’ve turned ugly, had the protective mother decided to go all the way.

Elephants are social and highly intelligent creatures. Their extreme intelligence drives them to do things for survival that are sometimes astonishing. A coffee plantation owner in the Kutta region of Coorg in Karnataka, once shared an amusing incident of elephants breaking into a patch of land that had jackfruit trees. Jackfruit, when ripe, give out a strong, distinctive odor. To an elephant, with its keen sense of smell, this invitation is too strong to resist. The plantation owner, anticipating this problem, dug trenches to prevent the elephants from picking the jackfruit. Two days later, when he visited the plantation, he was surprised to find great big clods of earth in the trenches. The clever pachyderms had filled a part of the trench with mud, walked over it and heartily tucked into the succulent fruit. Outsmarted, our friend put up an electric fence with mild voltage, to protect the jackfruit. Much to his chagrin, he found one part of the electric fence flattened by a massive log! The wily creatures had uprooted a tree, thrown it over the fence, and walked right through. The hungry, albeit smart, elephants had had the last laugh.

But not all stories are as amusing. Most often than not, man-animal conflict leads to serious and sometimes fatal injuries to one party or both. In Karnataka alone, over 26 people have lost their lives to elephants between 2001 and 2016. The figure, however, is debatable and the casualties are on both sides. Victims of rapid urbanization, elephants have died of electrocution from high voltage fences that are erected to keep them out or succumbed to cyanide poisoning by distraught farmers who have lost their crops. The root cause of this problem can be traced back to the 1960s when the Hemavathi Reservoir submerged crucial elephant habitat amounting to nearly 22,000 acres. Lush green forests were replaced by roads, railway lines, and agricultural land. Devoid of their natural food and living space, it’s unsurprising that elephants head straight to paddy and sugarcane fields to satisfy their enormous appetite. The areas surrounding Karnataka’s Hassan district have become the hotbed for human-elephant conflict. Despite capturing and relocating the rampaging elephants, they often come back to forests that are familiar to them. The personnel from the forest department are at their wit's end, trying to find a solution that works for the human as well as the animal population.

Destroying vital elephant corridors, human habitation around buffer zones, and disregarding the sacred laws of the jungle are among the biggest reasons for the grim state of affairs in our jungles. Today, the need of the hour is to find solutions, rather than lament over the damage that we’ve caused over the years.

Davidar’s dream of the Western Ghats, unmolested by man’s selfish needs, may be distant, but it is not altogether impossible. If each one of us strives to protect and preserve the natural world that we’re part of, it may not be impossible after all, to live in a world where man and beast exist in perfect harmony.