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. 

The Pachyderms of Jim Corbett National Park

The journey from paperback editions of various books penned by the legendary hunter-turned-conservationist Edward James Corbett, or Jim Corbett, as h's popularly known, to actually driving through the very place he once walked, was nothing short of exhilarating. During my growing years, I devoured his books, often closing my eyes between chapters to imagine what it must have been like to cover mile after mile, letting the jungle sounds course through his senses.

The matriarch warns us to stay away - Dhikala zone, Corbett National Park

You can imagine then, how it must have felt for someone who’s dreamed of this moment their whole life, to breathe the very air that Corbett once breathed, to drink in the beauty of the varied landscape that was until a short while ago, just a place that existed in my mind. 

I could wax eloquent about the park, and still not do justice to the breathtaking landscape that includes a diversity of flora and fauna.  Perhaps I’ll save this for another time.  Although the vast grasslands, riverine beds, and the towering Sal trees seduced me completely, what blew me over was the sheer density of elephants that roamed these jungles. The pachyderms were everywhere. Almost every turn, every patch in the grasslands had large herds or lone tuskers eating their way through the jungle. What amazes me about elephants, irrespective of the topography or location, is their ability to hide. A creature as large and noisy as the elephant can melt into the vegetation or stay absolutely silent if it wants to. I have encountered this behavior several times, whether it’s the dry, deciduous forests of  Bandipur, the dense, hilly terrain of B R Hills or the diverse jungles of Corbett, the elephant emerges from behind a shrub or the lantana, swiftly and silently, taking you by complete surprise. 

I remember the time when we were following fresh pug marks, our jeep hurtling through the jungle track, when all of a sudden, from around a bend came a loud crash. This happened just as the jeep passed the bend. An extremely annoyed female elephant emerged from the thicket, startling all of us completely, for there wasn't the slightest sound until moments ago. We were even more surprised when she was followed by a small herd of five or six females, including a calf. Of course, we left from there in a hurry, relieved that the matriarch decided to make her presence felt after we’d passed. Had it been a few seconds earlier, the consequences could’ve been disastrous. 

Besides the fact that the herds I spotted in the Dhikala zone of the national park were enormous in number, the other unique trait I noticed was the size of the elephants. Now, before you jump to counter my observation, let me clarify that this is purely a subjective pronouncement. Somehow, the elephants here appeared marginally larger than their South Indian cousins, especially the males. 

Speaking of male elephants or tuskers as they’re popularly referred, I had the opportunity to observe and photograph two large, lone tuskers on different occasions. The first one, a  handsome, albeit full grown male, blocked our path on the Dhikala-Gairal road.  At first, he ignored us, feasting on the succulent leaves from a tree. Then things got interesting when another safari vehicle blocked his path from the opposite direction. I expected him to lose his temper and express his annoyance. Our tusker though, remained calm, composed and in no rush to get anywhere. He continued on his way forward, while we followed slowly. The other vehicle had no choice but to back up as the elephant ambled along, stopping on and off to grab a tasty snack from the infinite jungle pantry. My husband and I clicked away furiously, hoping to somehow get some good headshots. 

“Headshots? Why didn’t you say so before?” ...is what I think the fellow thought, as he stepped into the thicket for the briefest moment, allowing us to pass. Once we drove past, he got back on the jungle track, now following our vehicle as we managed to get some excellent headshots. After a while, I put down the camera and simply gazed at this attention-seeking tusker. I could’ve sworn he enjoyed every minute of it. 

That’s when things changed from interesting to exciting. A tigress, clearly disturbed by the elephant’s presence, emerged from the undergrowth and walked right between our jeep and the elephant! Awestruck by the unexpected appearance of the tigress, I missed the chance to get both animals in one frame. It would’ve made such an excellent picture! Quickly regaining my composure, I did manage to get her on film before she slinked away from her nemesis.

If the Dhikala zone was teeming with herds as large as 40, the Bijrani zone had some formidable tuskers of its own. Considered to be the best zone to spot tigers, after Dhikala of course, this zone has an ethereal beauty that leaves visitors mesmerized. Boasting sky-high Sal trees, small water bodies that run through rather hilly terrain, the Bijrani zone is marked by unexpected curves that hold the promise of something exciting right around the corner. This was where we saw the second tusker. If his Dhikala cousin was large, this was one bulky. His trunk was thick and his beautiful, but deadly, tusks gleamed as he walked, rapidly and purposefully towards our vehicle. I was sure he would charge, for he was in the state of “musth”, a condition where a mature bull has up to 60 times its normal testosterone levels. It’s highly dangerous to approach bull elephants during this time. Their aggression levels rise to a great extent, so much that they attack with the intent to kill. It’s not uncommon for elephants, both wild and tame, in musth to attack and sometimes kill one of their own. 

I noticed the telltale temporal discharge close to its eyes, right in front of the large ears. The determined gait with which it marched towards us and the fact that 4 other safari jeeps blocked our path in front, naturally made me very nervous. The driver left the engine on, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of trouble. This one, strangely, didn’t display the typical aggressive behavior of an elephant in musth;  although we weren’t sure what he’d do if he got too close to us. Well, we didn’t wait to find out.

Our naturalist was a man who’d worked with the forest department for nearly 20 years. His experience told him not to take any chances with the formidable battle-tank forging towards the jeeps. Gesturing the other drivers to move ahead, he instructed our driver to step on the gas. Once the jeep was at a safe distance and my adrenaline subsided, I realized how fortunate I was to be able to photograph these intelligent, temperamental creatures in the wild.

Sure, the Jim Corbett National Park’s biggest attraction is its tigers; but the highlight of my trip was the elephant encounters. From the endless herds feeding placidly and the little calves indulging in juvenile games, to the testosterone-charged handsome bulls, the pachyderms of Corbett stole my heart. 

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. 

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.