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.

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.