The Thar desert on a winter morning

12th/13th January 2015

Read about the Great Indian Bustards here.

As we trundled along the flat and straight roads into the desert, visibility was just beyond our noses, and it seemed that only mad hatters and Madrasis were out.  Even the Cinkara stopped and stared in surprise!

As we stared at the khejri-tree filled landscape, something moved in the morning light.  "Desert fox" said Nabeel excitedly.  And there it was, a diminutive little thing with a distinctive white tipped bushy tail.  Vulpes vulpes pusilla

The shy fox, got us animated, and I almost forget the cold.  We were still in our vehicle, and relatively warm.

We got out at Sudasari, and the wind made a mockery of my layers of warm clothing, the monkey cap and gloves I wore, and reminded me that I was meant to be in nice balmy Madras and not in this dreadful cold, looking like a cross between an eskimo and a penguin!

Even more ridiculous were the locals, wrapped in a shawl and walking around as if it was a nice pleasant morning.

The Graceful Prinia looked anything but graceful, as the wind ruffled its feathers, and (according to me at any rate)  it had a miserable look on its face!

The Eurasian collared doves wore their usual mournful look

All over the desert were these bushes - kair - Capparis decidua - once  a year, they produce these berries, which are pickled and eaten through the year.  Kair/sangri - my culinary discoveries on this Rajasthan trip.

The doves took flight and left the Trumpeter Finches, with their yellow beaks for us to see!  My numbed and gloved fingers tried to work the binoculars to focus on them.  Thankfully, they hung around long enough for my inefficient focusing, and for Sekar to take these pictures.  It was a lovely sight, some of them with the distinct pinkish hue.  

The absent sun was higher in the sky presumably, the wind abated a bit, and the walking had warmed me into a better humour.

And then this Bengal fox, which casually crossed the track behind us, improved my mood even further.  He had a cocky and casual air about him, quite unlike the desert fox which seemed to skulk around.  The bushy black-tipped tail is characteristic of Vulpes bengalensis.

He sat and stared at us for a while, scratching himself.  We were obviously not interesting enough as he ambled away in a bored fashion, probably looking for his next meal.

Up on a dune, starkly visible against the sand was a southern grey shrike!  

It flew and perched on the scrub for us all to see.  We didn't see his "larder" of insects, though.

And sudden;y, there loomed two healthy and green Khejri trees.  Prosopsis cinerarea.  The state tree of Rajasthan (and the national tree of the UAE I subsequently discovered!),   Their greenness was a possible indication that there was a water vein below.

On closer examination, we found that they had pods.  Those red legumes are what we were eating as "sangri" at dinner times - I quite loved it actually.  

I guess they are like our coconut tree.  Every part is used.  But, excessive cutting of the tree branches for fodder is leading the the death of khejri trees in Rajasthan.  Later on, on the highways, we came across these trees with all their branches completely lopped off.

Bui - Aerva javanica - is the cotton of the desert, used to stuff pillows and mattresses, and grows widely in the desert in arid conditions.  

We saw the arid scrublands of the fringes of the desert and we saw the sand dunes as well.

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Unfortunately, there was cloud cover in the evening, and we missed the sight of the setting sun adding colours and hues to the sand dunes.  They were still beautiful, in their vastness, and the endless and infinitely different patterns that the winds created on the dunes.  The sand is soft, and powdery, quite different from the feel of the beach sand that I am used to.

Our desert "caravan".  (Note the rickety plastic stool.  We used that to hoist ourselves onto the cart.)

Bui to the left, khejri in the centre and khair to the right, and the beautiful sand patterns in the foreground.

It was time to say goodbye to the desert, and the "ships of the desert"!

Raju, the camel with the sweetest face and those most lovely eyes.  We saw some wild camels on the way, and they were the darker colour that Raju was.

Walking from Fernhill, Ooty to Lovedale

Tea estates, stopped by reserve forest areas

The red-cheeked bulbul called even with its' beak full!

The spotted dove called out to its mate in the next tree, eyeballing us all the time.

Huge flocks of sparrows all around.

A blackbird!  My first.  Called so sweetly.  Could not imagine it being baked in a pie!

Lovedale station - memories of Moondram Pirai

The Mountain Railway chugged in

Garden flowers

Tree flowers....

Two sparrows in the bush...

A hoopoe was busy with breakfast in the meadows

The jungle myna was ready for lunch

The bees, too busy to bother us

Farmlands and reforested lands

More tree flowers

Pied bushchats, everywhere

Pongal at Point Calimere - The ubiquitous Brahminy Kites

Continued from the feral horses.

Brahminy kite, with a fish in its mouth.

They were everywhere, on the trees, soaring above in the skies, over the water, in coconut trees, on electricity poles, by the fishermen's boats, and even on roof tops!

I have never in my life seen such a congregation of brahminy kites!

At the pumphouse

Again, with a prey - seems to be a lizard.

Mr Ramanan says:   "They are fearless when they steal fishes from the fishermen which was evident even when an auction of fishes took place among thirty odd people, they pierce the crowd fearlessly and take away the fishes. 


But they really failed when they chased a feeding young one of sunbird as it flew very close to one of the fence made out of thorny materials of a house. Whereas in the pumping house, which pumps sea water to the saltpan, the Brahminy Kites hovers and wait for as and when the river terns catch the fish which comes out of the salt water from the pump, it chases them and using its legs, hit them at the back so that the river tern drops the fish which can be easily taken away by them as it success rate of catching the fish compare to the river tern is less."

Mr Ramanan's photo - at the pump house, the marauders!

Photo by Mr Ramanan.

 Rags captured a brahminy kite flying at dusk, and another fabulous shot of the kite fishing.

Continued.  Next, Waders, where art thou?

Tiger spotting at Ranthambhore

Stunning cliffs and ravines make up the Ranthambhore terrain.

A few years ago, we visited Dungarpur. The palace, now a hotel (a wonderfully hospitable one at that), has a Shikar room. I walked in, and my stomach lurched I can tell you. Eyes of tiger, sambar, chital, leopard stared down from the walls. 99 tigers, the raja of old was supposed to have killed...its unsurprising that there are no tigers left in those forests.

1900 - around 40,000 tigers

1970 - 2,000, 2010 - just about 1,100.
The Banyan tree near Jogi Mahal, famous in its own right.

As I wandered the dry forests of Ranthambhore under an April sun, my mind wandered. What an unlikely saviour the tigers had in Indira Gandhi. A PM who invoked Emergency, was insecure and power-hungry, arguably destroyed several of India's institutions...and yet, she banned all hunting in India in 1970, put a stop to fur and skins export, stood firm on Silent Valley, started mechanisms to monitor our forests and was the initiator of Project Tiger.
Dhok trees, dry and bare in the summer

And then Ranthambhore had (still has) Fateh Singh Rathore and Valmik Thapar. I came back to Madras and read about the formation of the sanctuary, the efforts needed to relocate the villages within the park, and I was truly humbled. It is because of the single-minded efforts of people like this, and the countless underpaid, poorly trained forest rangers and wildlife wardens that we cling on to our remaining forests and wildlife.

Ranthambhore offered me a glimpse of my first tigers in the wild. I have seen them angrily pacing in the Mysore zoo and gone away unhappy and somehow ashamed. Ashamed because my fellow Indians taunted and teased them. My son then burst out that he was never going back to a zoo in his life....and we haven't.

T 17, the tigress we saw several times, cooling off at the Padam lake. behind her are crocodiles on the mud island!

Ranthambhore -the forest was dry and hot, the landscape for the most part bleak, almost like we were touring a nuclear holocaust area, the dhok trees stood bare, the herbivores were listless. But then I saw the tiger, and I was spellbound. She was far away, sitting by the banks of the Padam lake. It was a strangely serene scene. Jogi Mahal was to our left, the huge banyan tree behind. The crocs lay on the little mud island in the middle, egrets stood stock still, while the stilts moved around in their usual self-absorbed fashion. And the peafowl moved uncaringly close to the tigress.

She was not in a hunting mood, and the jungle was aware of this. After a while, she stood up, and a feline stretch later, strolled into the elephant grass, and vanished from sight. This was T17, we were told. Just google her, and you will find that she's widely photographed. Daughter of the famous Machli. My view was rather different from this one, also at Jogi Mahal:

"One massive male that Fateh and Valmik named Genghis introduced in 1983 a method of killing never before observed anywhere else on earth. He routinely hid in the eall grass that lines the largest of the lakes, then stormed out into the water to snatch an unwary sambar before it could make it ack to solid ground - and he performed this spectacular feat in full view of the guests sipping tea on the verandah of the Jogi Mahal. "

Tiger and Tigerwallahs, Geoffrey C Ward

What stars these are, the tigers of Ranthambhore! Each with a story and a lineage. I was hooked. Yes, the Thicknees and Buntings were delightful and all that, but this was something else! That was sighting number one for me.

The ravine below, where we saw the sister-brother duo

Many ravines, dry dhok trees, scurrying peacocks, moulting sambhar later, we arived at the edge of a cliff, and this is what we saw below. A brother and sister duo of tigers, orphaned at birth. Their mother killed in a fight with another male tiger.

Their survival itself was a miracle according to the guides, since they had not yet learnt to hunt proficiently. We were told that they hunt together and kind of hang out together as well.

A short video- listen to the howling wind.

The terrain on the cliff top. These cacti were spectacular and added colour to the brown summer scene

The jeep in which my husband and son were, saw them kind of gambolling and pawing at each other! By the time we arrived, we just saw the one sitting in the grass below, and after a bit she kind of rolled over and slept, sprawled like she had no care in the world.

A loud laugh from one of us, and the head came up and she stared at us, before dropping off again - its only those pesky humans.

The male tiger (I think), the one we did not see initially, but saw later as he slept on his back under a tree!

The male had wandered off and we did not see him at all. We hung around on the top of the cliff, a strong wind whipping the sand into our faces. Our jeep was right at the edge, and the wind was making me nervous, never a good one for heights you see.

But we were rewarded for our patience. The male appeared on the other side of the water, loped off to a tree, sat down, and then like a puppy dog, kind of rolled on his back and went to sleep with his feet in the air! I am not kidding! He was too far away to get a shot, but we were able to see him with our binoculars.

The one that rolled over and went to sleep, in front of us.

The stripes, so evident and clear are such a wonderful camouflage in this straw-coloured grass. We saw him moving and then settling under the tree. Those who did not, found it very hard to even find him.

Just like sighting Number three, asleep under this rocky outcrop. T17 again, radio-collar giving her away. Its amazing the amount they sleep!
Was this T 17 again? It was a radio-collared tiger.

In fact, Ranthambhore made it easy to lose sight of the fact that while tigers are beautiful, they are never cuddly. I once spent a whole afternoon watching four tigers sleep off a meal. They were dozing in the shade; I was sitting in the sun. No human sound seemed to disturb them: our restless shifting in the jeep had no effect on the loud, steady, bellowlike sound of their breathing, neither did the voices of the road crew passing in the distance, nor a series of blasts from a rock quarry outside the park. After the third hot, drowsy hour, it was all I could do to stop myself from getting down to sleep alongside them. Then, the gentle flutter of a tree-pie's wings hopping too close to the kill brought the tigress roaring to her feet - and me to my senses. Even the minutest threat to her kill offered by a small bird had demanded action; so might I have had I actually got down. But siting in the jeep, neither menace nor potential meal, I was just part of the landscape.

Tigers and Tigerwallahs, Geoffrey C Ward,

Our canter moved on then as we heard of another tiger further down in the ravine. A langur gave an alarm call, and the sambars stood alert with their tails in the air. We stopped and waited, as the guide hissed that it was probably a leopard. But after 10 minutes and no movement, we trundled along further, and came upon a clearing with about five jeeps wedged in, but no tiger.

Or so I thought, until we looked past the jeeps into a cave covered with roots, and saw a massive head! And even more massive paws.
Kumbakarna, or so I thought as he slumbererd on and on!
And so it was, he slumbered on an on. and we waited and waited. The cliffs around us were spectacular. Parakeets screeched all around. But the tiger slept.

In one of the jeeps was a professional photographer. He was its sole occupant. We had seen him earlier, and he was also staying at the same place that we were. Anyways, whenever we saw him in the park he was asleep! With a cap over his face, sprawled on the back seat. He had a long, threatening looking camera lens, and the guide looked out for him. We were told that he would wake up only when the tiger woke.

So we wondered whether the opposite would work, we wake him and the tiger would awake? Mr Swami suggested we have a roaring competition to rouse the tiger (fear not, we didn't), a magpie robin entertained us with his music.

Usha took refuge under her orange dupatta, looking like a giant anthill which had been smeared with turmeric, my son amused himself by taking a series of self-portraits on our digicam (I discovered this later of course!). And still he slept. Some of the jeep drivers banged their doors shut louder than was necessary, and it reverberated through the forest.

Suddenly there was movement, and a hush fell over the waiting crowd. The tiger needed a pillow, and moved himself into a more comfortable position. It was 5:30 in the evening, time was running out, we would have to leave soon, since the park rules were that we needed to be out of the park by 6.30.
Suddenly, an eye opened. I took my binoculars up, and was completely disconcerted to find myself eyeballing the tiger, as he stared at us. There is nothing friendly about a tiger looking at you, I can say. I think that if I was caught in front of a tiger, I would be too terrified to even run.

And here were we, in various jeeps and canters, most without an escape route. All it needed was an annoyed and irritated tiger to lash out with that almighty paw, and we would have a tragedy on our hands. We left before the tiger left its den, sadly (or may be thankfully?!).

In the name of tourism, me thinks we are pushing our luck, crowding tigers with our jeeps, flashbulbs, and raised voices. The tiger does not attack a jeep is the old adage, and I for one am least convinced about this.

In a way, I was relieved that all our encounters were from a safe distance, no harm to us, and no disturbance to the tiger.
Spot the tiger! T17 again rests at the base of the tree in the rear!

A flame of the forest tree with some flower. Its a common tree in Ranthambhore, though most of the other trees were in pod

Sighting number five was outside the park, from the buffer zone. Our jeep driver raced there, upon hearing that a tiger had just moved from Padam lake into the undergrowth, and so we went in order to catch her, as she emerged on the other side. We parked ourselves and sat, and after a while I stared dreamily out, the heat making me feel that the lake was a nice place to be in (no thought of crocodiles on my mind of course), when I saw some stripes walking past. "Ay, tiger, tiger!", I exclaimed most unimaginatively, and soon there was a rush of canters and jeeps around us. Its in the thicket in the picture above. Try look for it! Else take my word!

The ones that got away, or the sightings we did not have!

Of course, there were other members of our gang of 27, who had different encounters, and wonderful pictures to boot. Here is one such, as narrated by R Shantaram.

A Gypsy came rushing up to the group of vehicles. The message was crisp: at Lakharda, near Mandu Point, a pair of tigers had dragged a kill across the road from a waterhole. The race was on. Canters galloped, Gypsies careened, as every vehicle tried to be the first on the scene, to grab the best spot for watching the tigers. But even before we reached there, four or five other vehicles had cornered the vantage points. Not that we were complaining.

Lakarda male- Photo by Mr Ramanan

We had a wonderful view, as the male tiger (T 28) – a large 4-year old – got up, crossed the road up ahead of us and walked towards us, stopping at the waterhole, where he slaked his thirst. Strolling back, he went about 25 feet away from the road and lay down, sated, needing some peace and quiet, now.

Lakarda female-Photo by Mr Ramanan

The tigress (T 19) was still feeding at the kill, but soon, she needed water as well and so cut across the road to the waterhole. Maybe the male felt protective, for he too got up and circled the vehicles, getting to the waterhole. He saw that the tigress wasn’t too worried about the crowd of onlookers – there were close to a hundred people, standing up on the seats of their vehicles, trying to get pictures the best they could – and had settled herself quite comfortably into the small waterhole, so he wandered back to the other side of the road. The tigress continued to lie in the water, soaking herself for a while, allowing everyone to take a good look at her. When she had enough of it, she got up, intending to walk back to her kill the way she had cut across the road. But by now there was a double line of vehicles blocking that path, so she had to go around, behind the last vehicle.
Photo by Mr Ramanan

That Gypsy suddenly gunned its engines and reversed, keeping abreast of the tigress – thankfully, it was only for a few seconds and the big girl was allowed to get across before she could build up her anger. We had been there for almost an hour, though it seemed but a few minutes, and the drive back was quick, for we had been lucky, to have seen two tigers on our first safari.

Read more of Shantaram's Ranthamhore trip diary here.

Usha recounts her tiger sighting number 1, as also narrates The jungle experience of a lifetime

I also found these wonderful "tiger" links -

The truth about tigers, is Shekar Dattatri's all you need to know about tigers website. He also has made a documentary on what common urban people can do to help. Unfettered tourism in and around our parks has been blamed as bad for long-term tiger health. I found this essay interesting The tourism conundrum - an insider responds and Travel Operators For Tigers are a group of tour operators looking to be responsible. The Forest Survey of India has a lot of stats on India's forest cover. There are beautiful pictures at Machali - one of Ranthambore's stars.

And please oh please save us from the Chinese tiger farm.

A tiger is a sturdy animal and breeds well, if we let it. How many tigers can India support? How much territory are we willing to give them?

And on a personal level, should I be taking countless jeep rides through the forest? Here's my wish list:

• Each sanctuary/park in India should make it compulsory that every visitor attends an initial orientation, where everyone clearly knows the do's and dont's of forest behaviour, tiger-spotting etiquette, and safe behaviour.
• There should be an upper limit as to number of jeeps allowed per day into the sanctuary.
• There should be strict rules regarding how many vehicles can surround a tiger - dont you think this is both safe and courteous?

What do you think?

There is no point making us sign indemnity bonds (which we did by the way) and then setting us loose inside the forest!