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.

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.

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.

The Trusting Tigers of Nagarhole

In a tropical country like India, summer is the best time to spot wildlife and study animal behavior. The acute water scarcity and intense heat bring thirsty animals to river banks and watering holes for a quick drink, making it easier for naturalists and wildlife enthusiasts to observe and photograph the denizens of the forest. Wild cats such as tigers and leopards, which are usually brilliantly camouflaged in the thick vegetation, are easier to spot when the trees are nearly bare and dry.

The power-line subadult male

Karnataka, which has been victim to an unkind monsoon and a harsh summer, witnessed a marked rise in wildlife tourism this year. The recent forest fire that ravaged the Bandipur Tiger Reserve and the connecting jungles, has done little to impact ecotourism. Tourists continue to throng the jungles, desperate to catch a glimpse of the elusive leopard, the majestic tiger, or maybe an elephant herd.

I’ve been touring the Western Ghats for the last ten years, and never have I seen as many tigers and leopards on a single trip as I did on my recent visit to the Nagarhole Tiger Reserve in Karnataka. The flipside to the unrelenting heat, of course, is the adverse effect on the wildlife. The Kabini River is the lifeline of Nagarhole. Although reduced to half its volume, this crucial waterbody continues to be an important source of water for the residents of the jungle. However, the lack of water in the Bandipur area of the forest has driven most of the thirsty herbivores towards Kabini and the smaller watering holes in Nagarhole, while the highly territorial tigers and leopards continue to struggle with scant prey in Bandipur. Meanwhile, the Nagarhole cats have sufficient to eat, but not as many watering bodies to wallow in or quench their thirst.

The Backwater female

I had the fortune to observe some important aspects of tiger behavior this summer. A young tiger, for instance, popularly known as the Powerline Cub, is a sub-adult male born to a tigress that lives and frequents the power line that runs through the Nagarhole Reserve. Most tigers that are born and raised around the buffer area that’s earmarked for tourism, aren’t afraid of safari jeeps or the sound of human voices. They consider these sounds as a very normal part of their existence. The powerline cub was no different. Indifferent to the safari jeeps and the noise from the camera shutters, this handsome cat lolled lazily in the sparse grass. He barely glanced our way, and rolled on his belly until he found a comfortable spot to ‘cat nap’! There was another such instance, where we observed a tigress scent-mark her territory right in front of our jeep. Unperturbed by our presence, she continued marking the trees before disappearing into the thick lantana that’s enveloped what’s left of the vegetation. So mesmerized were we, by the tigress’ presence that we failed to see a leopard, cowering fearfully on a treetop, waiting for its feared feline cousin to leave. It was only when the naturalist’s trained eye caught some movement on a large tree did we notice the beautiful leopard staring at us with its soulful eyes. After ensuring that the tigress had left the vicinity, the leopard leaped off the tree and bounded away, presumably to a safer part of the jungle.

The tigers residing in the buffer zone of Nagarhole are so comfortable with human presence that one tigress blissfully napped close to a small watering hole, while we furiously photographed her. She threw a lazy glance or two our way a couple of times; but not once did she attempt to leave or appeared bothered by our presence. Although their familiarity with safari jeeps is unsurprising, I am not sure if the same holds good for people who run into a tiger while walking through the jungles. One of the two things is likely to happen. The tiger will either beat a hasty retreat or if curious, will come closer to explore. Contrary to the popular myth, tigers don’t attack humans unless provoked or driven into a corner. Their natural prey comprises deer, gaur, and other members of the herbivore family. They’d rather leave the two-legged humans alone.

This comfort that the tigers in protected areas have with humans, I believe, can be the bane of their existence. Going against the very instinct that teaches them to keep away from human beings, these tigers are gradually trusting us as a natural part of their ecology, making them highly vulnerable to poachers. Instead of bolting at the sound of voices or human scent, they stay. Does this make them easy targets? Are we interfering more than necessary? Do we realize that each time we drive or trek through a forest, we might just be meddling with their natural habitat?

For the generations in the future to enjoy the gifts of the jungle, wildlife tourism should be carefully controlled and closely monitored. Although it’s definitely a shot in the arm for the tourism industry and for conservation efforts, overdoing it could disturb this delicate balance that preserves the flora and fauna of the protected jungles. Karnataka, for one, has been reasonably successful in preserving its forests and the creatures that dwell in them. Although the man-animal conflict continues to plague the areas that border the jungles, it’s also heartening to know that much is being done towards the preservation of biodiversity in the state. Part of the Project Tiger conservation program launched by the Indian Government in the early 70s, Karnataka’s Nagarhole, Bandipur, Bhadra, Dandeli and Biligiri Rangaswamy Temple reserves boast a healthy and thriving tiger and leopard population, in addition to other critical species of animals, birds, insects, and plants. As someone who resides barely five hours away from these wonderful forests, I take great comfort from the fact that somewhere, some tiger is on a hunt right now, or a leopard is lazily perched on a tree, and perhaps an elephant herd is contentedly splashing around in a watering hole.

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.

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.

Access'd Ooty

When she came into our lives sometime in the middle of 2010, we had no idea we'd take her on her first vacation so soon. But it just seemed so wrong to leave her behind, all alone, waiting for us to come home. So we took her along, on what turned out to be one of our most memorable trips so far.

I don't suppose you know what I'm talking about. It is our very own, 125 cc, stylish, Suzuki Access. Boasting a 4-stroke engine, and looking resplendent in black, the dealership fella called it the “perfect scooter for city use”. Little did he know that we had other plans for her!

A misty Saturday morning sometime in January 2011, my husband and I found ourselves heading to Ooty. Considering we'd not been married for long, money was a little tight, so this was going to be an overnight trip. A small backpack with a change of clothes and some water, that's pretty much all we needed. I'm going to leave out the mundane details of the Bangalore to Mysore stretch. The heavy traffic, suicidal cows jumping in the middle of the highway at regular intervals, and the innumerable coffee-houses, always make me feel like I've never left the city.

The awfully dull Mysore highway behind us, we crossed Gundlupet without incident. This, I believe, was when the real fun started. Considering we were now officially in the Bandipur Tiger Reserve limits, I really wonder how this narrative would have panned out if we'd had a flat. But we had other things to worry about, such as the forest officer at the Karnataka- Tamil Nadu check-post. He stopped us and stared suspiciously before asking me to take off my helmet.

"Madam, is he forcing you into this lunacy?" he enquired.

I was amused, at the same time touched by his concern. I told him I was fine and a willing participant to what he clearly thought was madness.

"Sir, why are you taking your wife to Ooty on a scooter? There are plenty of buses and cabs. This isn't even a powerful motorcycle!" he exclaimed.

It took some convincing before he bid us adieu, still shaking his head and muttering as we resumed our journey.

Nestled in the foothills of the Nilgiris and melting into the Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary on one side and the Nagarhole National Park on the other, these jungles are part of the Nilgiri Bio Reserve. Despite efforts to prevent poaching and protect what remains today of the fauna, I fear that the generation after us will not enjoy the beauty of these beautiful, but rapidly depleting, forests of South India. At the risk of digressing, let me add that Bandipur was once a private hunting reserve for the Maharaja of Mysore, before it was established as a tiger reserve in 1974.

Back to where we were, it was just beyond the 'Safari point' in Bandipur when we came across the first herd of elephants. Elephants, when in a herd, are almost always peaceful and don't molest human beings. It is the lone tusker, especially one in the state of Musth, that you should worry about. Those fellows are best left to themselves. Anyway, coming back to our pachyderm family. They regarded us with mild curiosity and continued munching on the succulent bamboo that grows aplenty in these jungles. I imagined one of the little ones even went “slurp” before licking his lips with satisfaction!

The herd let us pass.

The next challenge came when we reached the 'safari point' at Mudumalai. Here we had the option of either continuing straight towards Masinagudi and taking the Kalhatti road, or turning right towards Gudlur. The Gudlur road is, undoubtedly, the most scenic, with the Moyar river serenely flowing on one side, while Kalhatti (which literally means 'steep ghat') comprises of 36 hairpin bends. Although I had immense faith on our Access, let's face it, negotiating 36 hairpin bends on a scooter is like trying to thread a needle with a rope! The engine would most certainly seize. So the obvious choice, and a wise one, was the Gudlur road. The extra two hours that we took to reach Ooty from the safari point made us realize how sturdy our 'city' scooter was. Pushed to its limit, sometimes by the wide craters on what must have once resembled a road, and sometimes by the buses and larger cars that simply whizzed past with little regard for our humble steed, she was one resilient workhorse.

As for us, well, I'd be lying if I said that we felt like James Bond who somehow managed to get out of diciest situations without a hair out of place. When we reached our destination, an old British Bunglow converted to a B&B, all we wanted was a hot bath, a steaming cup of tea and a warm bed. Before that, however, we had a very curious hotel manager to convince that we'd actually covered nearly 300 kilometers on a Suzuki Access. "Saar, where did you rent this in Ooty?" he enquired, without checking the Karnataka registration.

"It belongs to us," my husband replied.

The flummoxed chap walked out, peered at the registration number and then looked at our exhausted faces.

The "why" was written all over his face. But he restrained himself and showed us to our room.

I can't even begin to describe how tired we were. Our backs ached, our muscles were sore and despite the helmets, dirt covered our faces. But for all it's worth, I know we'll do it all over again.

The Where, When, What, and How:

Where to Stay: Plenty of options available, depending on your budget. You could either try Kings Cliff if your purse strings aren't too tight, or the likes of Woodberry resorts or I-India if a budget vacation is on your mind.

When to Go: Whenever your heart desires. Ooty is one of those round-the-year destinations. That said, April to June or September to November are considered to be the best times to visit.

What to Do: I'd give the botanical garden and the lake a pass; they're too touristy and crowded for me. Long walks along the winding roads and the train ride to Coonoor should be in your 'to-do' list.

How to Get There: If you're in a car or on a motorcycle, you could either take the Bangalore- Mysore- Gundlupet - Bandipur- Gudlur- Ooty route or the Bangalore- Mysore- Gundlupet - Bandipur- Masinagudi-Kalhatti- Ooty road. Amateur drivers and scooterists are better off taking the Gudlur Road.