The Unsung Heroes of our Jungles: Part II

In my previous blog, I touched upon the Forest Department’s (Karnataka) efforts at protecting and preserving our jungles. I also discussed how the ‘selfie’ menace has compounded the problem of human-animal conflict. In the next two parts, I will delve deeper into the challenges faced by the personnel attached to the forest department, tribal relocation and rehabilitation programs, conservation efforts including anti-poaching drives and management of tourists that throng Tiger Reserves every day.

Ecotourism has grown substantially over the years. I remember, when my husband and I started our love affair with the jungles of South India, ecotourism was at its nascent stages. The resorts and rest houses always had room for last-minute check-ins. So much has changed since then. The density of tourists who throng the resorts and guesthouses around forests has grown substantially. For employees from the forest department who’re dealing with a plethora of problems, to begin with, this presents a new challenge…managing the growing tourist population.

To minimize disturbance to wildlife and allow people to enjoy and appreciate all that our jungles have to offer, the forest department has limited the area reserved for tourism.  Besides earmarking specific areas for tourists, personnel from the forest department also need to decide on the number of safari vehicles allowed inside and the reserve. Although most animals that dwell in areas reserved for tourism are familiar with the sounds from jeeps and people, not regulating the number of tourists and safari vehicles can upset this delicate balance. Quite often during a safari, I’ve seen areas that are off-limits to tourists. Temperamental, shy, and territorial, the denizens of the jungles peppered around Karnataka need these areas to hunt, breed, and rest. As always, it falls on the shoulders of the RFO and his team to devise a park management plan that allows people to tour the jungles without exploiting the sanctity of the forests.

The summer of 2017 saw us pack our bags for a quick trip to the Nagarhole Tiger Reserve. During one of the safaris, I couldn’t help but notice the small dwellings along the fringes of the forest. Curious, I enquired with the naturalist as to whom these huts belonged to and if the government was okay with people living in such proximity to wild animals. I was told that they were tribals who grew up in these jungles and considered it their home.

I decided to follow up with an officer attached to the Karnataka Forest Department, and was astonished to learn that nearly 1500 - 2000 families lived inside the Nagarahole Reserve alone!

“How do they manage to coexist with wildlife? Does this mean more human-animal conflict? Where do they feature in the government’s plans of forest and animal corridor extension?” I directed all my questions at him.

“The commendable efforts at protecting endangered wildlife species and dwindling forests by the Karnataka Government and Forest Department bore fruit in terms of a marked increase in Tiger population, as well as more space for other animals such as elephants, leopards, and gaur to thrive,” he explained. “However, this also meant the forest dwellers and tribals had to share precious space with these animals. Therefore, in a bid to reduce human presence in crucial wildlife habitat, the Central Government launched the Tribal Rehabilitation Program.”

Under this program, the tribals willing to relocate are provided with a compensation between 10 to 15 lakhs or suitably compensated with land and homes. Although some families are willing to move out, some are hesitant, and there are others who’ve lived in the jungles their whole lives and would rather stay put. The objective of the program, according to the government, is not to force people to shift out of the reserves, but rather persuade them to make a living elsewhere. The reasoning behind this move is that lesser human interference means better chances of the flora and fauna thriving. For the people who gather honey and herbs from the forests, who can climb a tree faster than you can spell it, and those who exist in a symbiotic relationship with nature, their skepticism is understandable and only time will tell how successful the program will be. But for now, the government, as well as the tribal community, is testing the waters.

Stay tuned for my next blog on human-animal conflict, steps taken to prevent poaching and the development work undertaken by the Karnataka Forest Department.

Let’s Talk Leopard

Having grown up on a healthy diet of Jim Corbett, my love for the jungles only grew when I switched to Kenneth Anderson, followed by Hugh Allen and Valmik Thapar, nearly 6 years ago.  So when I met my husband a decade back, we connected instantly over our passion for wildlife and the drive to explore the Indian jungles.

Blessed as we are to have visited most of the Tiger sanctuaries in Karnataka, we realized over time that most naturalists and promoters of ecotourism in India have a single-minded obsession – spotting the majestic tiger. Although still on the endangered species list, it's heartening to know that the tiger population in India has grown substantially over the last few years. What’s disheartening, however, is that in a bid to save the tiger, other critical species, which aren’t necessarily on the endangered list, are often ignored.

Mahadesha - The Tiger

On our recent trip to the Bandipur Tiger Reserve, we informed the naturalist that we’d like to observe all animal and bird species, to which he raised a quizzical eyebrow and asked us if the striped feline wasn’t on our list. Well, of course, it was. We’d love to observe a tiger in its natural habitat, as we’ve done many times before, but we’d also like to take in the different sights and the sounds of the jungle.

We started off on a cold January morning. As we ambled along, our naturalist pointed to our right and whispered excitedly, “There’s Mahadesha!” Following his gaze, I expected to see someone from the anti-poaching squad walking along the fire trail.  What I saw made my jaw drop. There he was, a fully grown male tiger, lazing around in a nearly dry water hole. The excitement in the safari jeep was palpable, the cameras clicking away furiously. After clicking some pictures, I put the camera aside and watched ‘Mahadesha (also known as the Basavanna Katte male)’ yawn and stretch. He rose in all his magnificence and melted into the thicket, as we continued to gaze at the spot where he’d just sat. It was an excellent day indeed, and we were just getting started.

 As we prepared for next day’s safari, I wondered what surprises the jungle had in store for us. Little did I know of the thrilling experience that awaited. 

It was around 4 in the evening and the naturalist told us that it’s unlikely that we’d spot anything at this time of the day. Indeed, the part of the jungle that we were to cover that evening lacked the usual deer and langur population, and we were quite certain that this wouldn’t be anything more than a peaceful drive in the wilderness. The drive was lulling me to sleep, and the delicious lunch a few hours before didn’t help. Just as I was about to slip into a sweet slumber, one of the guests exclaimed, “Leopard, leopard!”

I was instantly awake. Indeed, less than 70 meters from our jeep was a fine male leopard out on his post-lunch stroll. Leopards are shy and difficult to spot in the wild, so we were fortunate to have seen this one up close. His movements unhurried, his body sinewy, the spotted, smaller cousin of the tiger gave us a cursory glance before doing the vanishing act. But my excitement isn’t something everyone will share. Considered a nuisance by many, leopards are vital to maintaining the ecological balance. While studies show that there are four leopards for every tiger in India, the alarming reality is that these cats are often poisoned, trapped in snares, or simply shot. The future perhaps isn’t as grim for the leopard is it appears for the tiger, but at the rate at which these creatures are dying, I certainly hope they don’t meet the same fate as that of the tiger.

The Tiger Tank Tigress of Kabini

A cold, winter morning in November. The jungle is still, and the only sound that emanates is the cracking of bones. None of us move, afraid that the slightest movement might spoil her appetite. She’s seen us alright, this undisputed queen of the Indian jungles, but pays no attention. Enthralled, we continue watching, sometimes through binoculars, sometimes through the camera lens, or just directly, drinking in this magnificent sight.

The Tiger Tank Tigress

The Tiger Tank Tigress, as she was christened, tore a piece from the chital carcass, and swallowed.  We heard the “crack, crack,” again, as she breakfasted on a succulent morsel from the carcass.

I’ve heard from many wildlife enthusiasts, that in the tiger’s presence, one fails to notice everything else around them and focuses single-mindedly on this beautiful, sinewy beast. That morning in the jungles of the Nagarahole Tiger Reserve, this theory was put to the test. For nearly half an hour, we watched the Tiger Tank Tigress enjoy her meal. Not once did we notice a pair of elephants, slowly inching towards the tank for a drink of water. It was only when they got too close for the tigress’ comfort did we know of the pachyderms’ presence. The tigress, obviously thirsty from her meal, didn’t welcome the intrusion and snarled in warning. The elephants hesitated for a moment, before beating a hasty retreat. This was her territory, and she could come and go as she pleased. After all, she wasn’t called the Tiger Tank Tigress for nothing.

I watched the tigress enjoy her meal, thinking it was one of the best tiger sightings of my life.
Little did I know that a treat awaited me the following day.

It’s a common myth that a tiger will instantly charge at a human when confronted. As I’ve mentioned in my blog on tigers earlier, these majestic jungle cats are shy and prefer to stay hidden in the presence of humans. A healthy, young tiger, with plenty of game to stalk and kill, will never molest a human. There have been instances, where annoyed tigers have killed humans when provoked, but never ate so much as a bite. Occasionally, thanks to the effects of rapid deforestation, which has resulted in a sharp decline in the deer population, tigers are forced to kill cattle from the villages nearby. Should an angry villager raise his staff at the hungry animal, he might find himself on the menu. But that’s rare. I believe that every time we battle the city traffic, we are more at risk of dying from road accidents than being eaten by tigers.

That said, the following evening, we set off once again towards the jungles. Content with spotting a tiger, wild dogs, elephants, plenty of birds, gaur, langur, and the Malabar squirrel, among other denizens of the forest, we focused on tracking the elusive leopard. Fervently scanning treetops and rocks until my neck ached, we finally settled at a spot where a herd of gaurs grazed peacefully. The gaurs, mostly comprising adult females, didn’t mind the intrusion and continued grazing and grooming their calves. One of them even came close to the jeep and promptly sat down to masticate.

Gaur

A few minutes later, the female gaur stood bolt upright and focused intently on the lantana shrubs ahead. Her body still and alert, she sniffed the air suspiciously and without warning let out a high-pitched guttural sound. It was nothing like I’d ever heard before. On cue, the other females in the herd surrounded the calves protectively, while a second female broke off from her family and joined the first one, adding to the strange cacophony. This continued for a minute or so, before the two alert females charged into the thicket, warning whatever was in there to back off.

Our highly experienced driver, who doubled up as a naturalist, was convinced of a leopard’s presence in the vicinity. However, the gaurs’ warning bellows had given it away, and we were certain that the spotted cat had disappeared into the vegetation. Any leopard, with some bit of common sense, will not take on a fully grown gaur, leave alone two. It was an amazing experience, though to watch the gaurs graze contentedly one minute, and take on an aggressive stance the next.  We still had 30 minutes to go before heading back to our camp. So we drove to the Tiger Tank once more, only to find two adolescent male tigers lounging lazily on the bank. My jaw dropped open. These were the Tiger Tank Tigress’ cubs! Their coats were a deep yellow-orange, and the stripes dark. It was a sight to behold!

One of the cubs though vanished behind some trees the moment we arrived. The bolder of the two stayed and rolled on the grass playfully. As the cameras went berserk, he majestically stretched and made his way to the tank’s edge. Never taking his eyes off us, this handsome, mesmerizing animal quenched his thirst against the backdrop of a lush, green, jungle. We stayed on until we could before our driver reminded us that darkness was fast descending.

We drove back in silence, each one of us quietly replaying these unforgettable experiences in our minds.

As the tiger population in India steadily grows under the protective umbrella of Project Tiger, we must not forget that other animals are just as critical to the ecological balance and harmony of the forests. To me, the sight of elephants tearing into a bamboo grove, or a pack of wild dogs chasing deer is just as important as watching a tiger cross my path. While my affair with the Western Ghats continues, I can’t help but dream of seeing the lions and wildebeest in Africa someday.

The Sounds of the Jungle

So obsessed are we, in the pursuit to spot the big cats, that we often forget to observe the beauty of the jungles that surround us. We hear, but don't listen. We look, but we don't see. We admire, but seldom appreciate.

The jungle, to me, is a place where imagination comes alive. A large rock sheltered by the bushes resembles a gaur or an elephant in the twilight. Twigs take on the shape of snakes, lying motionless, patiently waiting for an unsuspecting hare or rat to come by. Sometimes, on a moonless night, something scurries past, rustling a bed of dry leaves. And I find myself playing guessing games, wondering what it could be.

It was one such warm, moonless night, when I found myself in a dark tent, surrounded by acres of thick jungle. It was our third visit to the K.Gudi camp in Biligiriranga Hills or BR Hills for short. The fact that my husband and I were the only guests at the camp and the lack of electricity added to the excitement. At about 8 30 that night, after we were done with a delicious, but simple dinner, I decided to step out for a while to take in the familiar, soothing, sounds of the jungle. The cicadas, after making quite the racket, decided to take a break, giving the nightjar the perfect opportunity to make its presence felt. I felt myself being lulled into a stupor, my thoughts wandering all over the place. This blissful state of affairs continued for a good thirty minutes or so until the realization suddenly hit me that all the denizens had quietened down. Now if you've been to the jungles as often as I have, you'll know at once that a silent jungle can mean only one thing – a predator was on the move. I was alert, straining my ears for a faint rustle, or the rough, sawing sounds of the leopard.

Soon enough, the deathly, oppressive silence was shattered by the alarm call of a sambar deer. "Dhonk, dhonk, dhonk!" it went. I followed the direction of the sambar's alarm call, and mentally traced the path of the cat that must have walked around the periphery of the camp, barely 200 meters from the tent. Was it a tiger, or a leopard, I don't know. For I was as blind as a bat, my ears doing all the listening and seeing for me. I retired to the safety of the tent, as the calls continued well into the night. Sleep, of course, eluded me, for I was high on the heady mixture of thrill and curiosity. The sambar stopped calling eventually, signaling that it was safe for the denizens to come out of their hiding. A few hours passed, and I could hear the wild boars outside, sniffing and devouring any tasty tidbits they could find. My glow-in-the-dark watch showed that it was nearly 3 AM, and I decided that I simply had to get some sleep.

"Oye, wake up, wake up," someone whispered frantically. Groggy and confused, I grumbled at my husband for disturbing my sleep. "Listen, it's a barking deer!" he whispered, hardly able to contain his excitement. Sure enough, it was now the barking deer's turn to call out. Something was definitely afoot, moving stealthily about, but this time, the calls were from the opposite direction, indicating that the predator was returning to its lair, which clearly wasn't too far from the campsite. I imagined it to be a leopard, returning from its hunt to the comfort and safety of a tree. We passed, what was left of the night, listening expectantly for more alarm calls. They'd died down of course, and we found ourselves dozing off, as the first light of the dawn kissed the dewy foliage.

Thirty minutes and two cups of tea later, we were on the morning safari. I mentioned the previous night's alarm calls to the driver and the naturalist, and they weren't too surprised, but nevertheless excited.

"We heard it too!" they exclaimed, in unison.

"This particular leopard lives somewhere close to the camp," said the driver. "But, he's a master of camouflage, so the guests rarely get to see him."

No sooner had he spoken, we saw a rush of yellow and dark spots jump across the fire trail, and crash into the bushes. It was the leopard alright! My jaw dropped in awe at the fleeting glimpse of this beautiful creature, just before it vanished.

"You're fortunate madam," the naturalist said, grinning from ear to ear. "Most people only hear him, you got to see him too, albeit for a few seconds."

Lucky indeed! But I couldn't wait for nightfall, until I heard him again, in the alarm calls of the deer, and the silence of the cicadas.

Waiting for Shere Khan

Picture this – tall, dry grass beckoning languidly, clear blue cloudless skies, and the wind gently caressing you, as you wait patiently, ears attuned to every little sound.

Welcome to the Pench National Park, the jungle that inspired Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book. Named after the Pench River that divides the forest into nearly two equal halves, the Project Tiger Reserve is located in the Seoni and Chhindwara Districts of Madhya Pradesh. Unlike the jungles in South India, the topography of this tiger reserve is distinguished by grassy meadows, with large tree species like teak, amaltas, dhora, and conspicuous white kulu trees, popularly known as "ghost trees". Treated like the step-sister of the popular Kanha and Bandhavgarh Tiger Reserves (also in MP), Pench (among others) had been on my checklist for as long as I can remember.

Like a middle-aged couple, comfortable in our marriage, the jungles and I have grown to love and respect each other over the years. But every marriage has experiences that awaken you from the deep slumber of domestic bliss; similarly, every once-in-a-while the jungles offer an experience that remains etched in my memory until something better comes along.
What distinguishes Pench from all the other jungle safaris I’ve embarked on so far, is the fact that this time around, I learned to listen; keenly, and patiently for the innumerable sounds made by the various denizens that reside here. The high-pitched "meow" of the peacock, the noisy crescendo of the cicadas, the "whoomph" of the langurs as they leap effortlessly from one tree to another – these are the sounds that bring contentment to my heart and a smile to my lips. Until now, I’d only “heard” these sounds, never actually listened. The "whoomph" of the langur, for instance, varies in crescendo when it’s in a state of sheer panic, quickly transforming into high-pitched shrieks of sheer terror when one of the jungle cats is on the move.

But when the King calls, the jungle listens; all the other sounds fade into the distance.
Our jeep was parked at a "chauraha", the Hindi word for intersection or crossroad, in the jungle. Following the panic-stricken calls of the Sambar with our ears, we waited in complete silence for the reason of the Sambar's alarm to materialize. Surrounded by thick vegetation on three sides, and tall, dry grass that concealed any animal that moved through it on the other, we depended heavily on audioception to determine the direction of the animal’s movement.
The "oongh" was unmistakable. The grass, at a distance, ruffled with every "oongh". I could barely conceal my excitement. If you've heard a tiger call, you'll know what I mean when I say that it's mesmerizing. It transfixes every other creature in its tracks. It's a call that announces the arrival of a creature that’s so beautiful that it's terrifying. Even today, when I close my eyes and think about that day, I can hear the "oongh" coming closer and closer to our jeep. We stared intently, straining our eyes to catch one glimpse of the jungle cat, cameras ready. The screams of the Sambar faded away, as the grass parted finally. I stopped breathing.

Quick as lightning, the tiger bolted and leaped onto the opposite side of the fire-line, vanishing into the wilderness, even before any of us could react or move a muscle. We were aghast. The jungle seemed to have swallowed this beautiful creature whole, leaving us feeling cheated. The driver assigned to our jeep seemed apologetic, like a parent covering up for his favorite child’s mistake. "It isn't just the tiger we've come to see," we told him. "It's the jungle we want to experience."
And what an unforgettable experience it was, as we drove into the fading twilight, watching the stars twinkling brightly in the velvety night sky, as the creatures of the night woke from their long slumber. For their watch had begun, and they wouldn't rest until the first rays of the sun touched the dew-kissed grass once again.

Nature’s Ultimate Predators

"How was the safari?" I asked someone who’d checked-in a day earlier at the Kabini River Lodges near Nagarhole.

"Nothing great!" he exclaimed. "All we saw were some deer, bison, birds, and dogs. I mean, I paid so much to come all the way here just to see some buffalo-like creatures and dogs? No tigers, no leopards. Such a waste!"
It's this single-minded obsession to spot the big cats that prevents people from enjoying their trips to the jungles. Sure, I'd love to see the tiger in all its majesty, or spot the shy leopard lounging lazily on a rock. But what I enjoy the most is the proximity to nature. The calling of the peacocks, trumpeting of elephants, or the "whoop" sounds the langurs make as they swing effortlessly from one tree to another, is music to my ears.

But what I'd never seen, until the recent Kabini trip, is a hunt in progress. Two days, and four safaris; the pack of eight Asiatic Wild Dogs, or the dhole, were a familiar sight. Three out of the four times we spotted them, these fearless, diminutive killing machines looked anything but ferocious. Frolicking in the grass, chasing each other around, this pack would remind anyone of their playful neighborhood dogs. Until, you watch them hunt.
On our last safari, we ran into the dhole family, clicking pictures and watching them from a safe distance. Soon the pack grew bored, and began walking lazily along the jungle track. As we continued watching, we saw a herd of chital or spotted deer, grazing peacefully at a distance. Suddenly, this picture of serenity took on a completely different turn. Pandemonium broke loose the moment the leader of the pack spotted the herd. Emitting a barely audible whistle-like sound, the pack broke into a run, splitting into small groups in a smooth flanking movement, catching the chital by complete surprise as they scattered haphazardly.

Unlike tigers and leopards, these communal hunters don’t give their prey the luxury of time to warn the others of the impending danger. They simply attack, tearing off chunks even as the terrified animal continues to run, eating them alive bite by bite. It is said that even the mighty jungle cats steer clear of dholes. Weighing as little as 13- 17 kilos, these rust-brown carnivores are said to bring down a lone tiger if need be. That said, what’s concerning is that these highly endangered species are ignored by most conservationists and researchers. Perceived as pests, the common folk look at them with the same disdain reserved for street mongrels. Adding to their misery is the fact that they aren’t as beautiful to look at or enthralling as other predators.
Coming back to the hunt. As the chase continued, our jeep followed at a distance, so as to not interfere with nature’s plan. It was chaotic mix of dust and hooves, before the herd and the dhole family disappeared into the thick, impenetrable vegetation. Whether or not the dhole went hungry that day, is something I don’t know. But when a new guest asked me how the safari was, I replied, my eyes twinkling with excitement – "It’s an experience that's going to remain imprinted in my mind for a really long time!"

Taking Home a Tasty Human: Understanding the Tiger’s Palate

The reactions are almost always predictable. Bubbling with excitement, I immediately sent images of the tiger we spotted on our last trip to Biligiriranga Hills (also known as BR Hills) to almost everyone in my phone book. Although some of the reactions were the expected "wow" and "amazing", I was surprised when some folks asked if I wasn't afraid of being attacked.  My response, apart from rolling my eyes, is usually the same. I tell them that it's the elephants I worry about, and not so much the cats.

Thanks to a healthy dose of cheesy Bollywood flicks and folklore, tigers and leopards are perceived to be vicious man-eaters that never miss an opportunity to take home a tasty human or two. Nothing could be further from the truth. Tigers prefer their natural prey like the chital or spotted deer, sambar deer, and other species from the herbivore family. They avoid human settlements and instinctively prefer fleeing to attacking should they run into humans. But one could argue that the phrase "man-eater" wouldn’t exist if there weren't instances of the big jungle cats molesting and devouring humans.

Yes, tigers and leopards have killed before and will kill again. But not because they have developed a "taste for human blood"; it’s because of the extreme human-animal conflict that drives this beautiful, noble creatures into a corner, where they have to choose between killing and being killed. Sometimes, it's a purely accidental attack. Most jungle cats turn man-eaters because they are either old, or injured. It's surely some form of desperation that drives them to kill and devour man. In fact, conversationalists and those working in the forest department will tell you that there have been instances where tigers and leopards have mauled people without so much as tasting their blood! This only happens when they feel threatened.

Of course, by the time I explained this to the umpteenth person who’d asked me this question, I simply lost patience, and found it convenient to smile, play dumb, and say, "Yes, it was so scary!"

My husband and I have been to many safaris in India and have spotted several tigers in the wild. Yet, the feeling of absolute awe, every time we go around a bend, expecting a tiger to emerge, is hard to describe.

If you’ve spotted a tiger in the jungles even once in your lifetime, you must consider yourself fortunate. The rate at which these animals are being hunted (sometimes poisoned) for their skin, bones, and teeth, falsely believed to have medicinal properties and protective powers, we'll soon have to contend with watching the tiger in a cage, pacing about hungrily, stripped of all its dignity and splendor.

When the Jungles Come Alive

Have you ever watched a hunt in progress? When the predator patiently stalks its prey, crouches low, until the final spring that usually spells certain death for the hunted? If you have, then you must consider yourself among the lucky few. As for me, I haven't had the fortune of watching a tiger or its smaller cousin, the leopard, in action. Although I have witnessed a dhole (commonly referred to as the Asiatic Wild Dog) feeding on fresh kill.

Native to South and South East Asia, this unique species of carnivore are often dismissed and trivialized as “only wild dogs” when discussing some of the fiercest creatures that walk the jungles today. I beg to differ. If you have watched one of them tearing away at a deer's throat, you'll most certainly agree with me. Highly social, dholes usually hunt in large packs, killing their prey very painfully by disembowelling them and biting off huge chunks, even while poor animal is alive. They don't even spare the mighty tiger when confronted, although most choose to stay away from tigers, unless they're in packs of 20 and see no choice but to bring the tiger down.

The one we encountered while on a safari in Biligiriranga Hills or B R Hills had slunk away from its pack. Slightly bigger than the average city mongrel, this wild dog had something large in its jaws, and was having considerable trouble dragging the dead animal, which appeared to twitch from time to time. We stopped our jeep and waited in complete silence, until it came into full view. Like most wild animals, I expected this one to turn tail and disappear into the forest as soon as it saw humans. This dhole did anything but run. It stood still and stared at us for a few seconds before deciding to begin its meal right there!

We watched in fascination as it hungrily tore away at the young spotted deer's throat, before proceeding to rip off large chunks from its flank. I'd never seen anything quite like this, except for the deer carcass I once saw abandoned by a large jungle cat in Bandipur. You can usually smell it before you see it. Anyway, coming back to our lone dhole, after about 10 minutes, it decided it had had enough of the audience, and proceed to enjoy what was left of his meal in peace. Dragging the remains, it melted into the forest, even as our cameras silently clicked away.

Supremely satisfied with the fruitful morning safari, I decided to get some shut eye after breakfast, considering there wasn't much to do until half past three. Later in the evening, after gulping down steaming cups of tea, my husband and I hopped onto the safari jeep that was waiting for us. In the second jeep, that was to follow us at a distance, were a group of rather noisy, brightly dressed boys and girls.

The jeeps rumbled on. Stopping at regular intervals, the bored driver waited patiently as the cameras went into overdrive. Spotted deer, sambar, and beautiful birds in various shapes, sizes and colors, the jungle was full of them. But the best was yet to come. Before I tell you what that is, it's important that I explain the topography of this forest, especially the core area. Located at an altitude of 5,091 feet, the B R Hills Wildlife Sanctuary comprises of dense, lush green forests. On one side of the jungle path is the forest, while on the other is a sloping drop. Our jeep traversed slowly along the narrow jungle path.

All at once, a 'swish' sound brought us to an abrupt halt. At first I couldn't see anything, just the trees and shrubs swaying gently in the wind. Suddenly a shrill trumpet startled all of us, and before we could react, a large female elephant came rushing towards the driver's side. Her trunk was raised, her tail high up in the air, and she certainly looked like she meant business. Then the driver, also our guide, did something that truly worried me; he turned off the engine. My mouth agape, I stared at him in shock!

He turned around and motioned us to stay silent. My throat was dry and my voice had long abandoned me anyway. So screaming was out of the question. We were as still as a rock.

Meanwhile, the elephant in question had retreated a few feet, before she repeated the same thing. As she rushed towards us once more, kicking up a cloud of dust, I caught a glimpse of her calf standing a few feet away. Protected by another female, the poor calf looked absolutely petrified. It made sense now; she was worried for her baby. Her mock charge meant she was gauging the level of threat that we posed, and by not reacting or moving, we wanted to show that we meant no harm. This back and forth mock charge lasted for almost 10 minutes, during which my husband continued taking pictures. As for me, I was absolutely terrified, considering the elephant sometimes came within touching distance of the jeep.

All the while, the folks in the second vehicle watched us from a safe distance. The young mother finally disappeared behind the trees, and our jeep started to move. Heaving a sigh of relief I turned to look back at the other jeep. It was not over yet. The angry pachyderm emerged from behind the cover of the trees and proceed to display the same behavior, trumpeting shrilly and rushing towards jeep #2. Unfortunately, one of the women, dressed in bright yellow, started to scream bloody murder the moment she spied the elephant. That did it. No more mock charges...it was time for the real thing. Trunk down, ears flapping wildly, the angry animal rushed in mad fury towards the jeep. The hysterical girl was now sobbing loudly, and there was nothing we could do.

The driver in their jeep, displaying great presence of mind, realized that one nudge and their vehicle would go toppling down the slope. Stepping on the pedal, he drove as fast as the rocky terrain would allow. It was a sight to behold. Our jeep in front, the other jeep following us, and one temperamental beast giving a hot chase! The madness lasted for around 15 minutes, before our pursuer decided it had had enough. We managed to reach our resort without further incident. The lady of course, was shaking like a leaf!

As for us, well, we couldn't wait to go again. Who knows what it might be this time? A predator concealed in the shadows? Langur monkeys hanging from tall trees, ever alert for tigers and leopards? Perhaps a herd of elephants if we got lucky? With the jungles, one can never tell!

The Where, When, What, and How:

Where to Stay: Although there are plenty of options in Chamrajanagar, none of these allow safaris, except for the ones offered by the government, which are a waste of time. If a jeep safari is on your mind, then the only option you have is Jungle Lodges and Resorts. A word of caution though, Jungle Lodges is going to burn a large hole in your pocket! Go only if you're okay with mediocre food, but awesome safari, for the exorbitant price.

When to Go: The sanctuary is open throughout the year, although the monsoon season is best avoided. Try planning a visit between October and May.

What to Do: Safari, safari and more safari! You can also try visiting the Biligiri Ranganathaswamy Temple, which is believed to be over 200 years old.

How to Get There: You can either take the Bangalore – Kankapura – Malavalli - Kollegal – Yelendur- B R Hills route, or try the Bangalore – Mysore – Chamrajanagar - B R Hills stretch. Watch out for wildlife en-route, especially lone tuskers and elephant herds. Distance varies between 181- 200 kilometers depending on the route you take.