Showing posts with label Forests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Forests. Show all posts
Thursday, May 24, 2018
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Lalchandji and the tigers
Sounds like something out of a Ruskin Bond book.
I looked up the terrain on Google Maps, and it is just as Raza Kazmi describes it - Pilibhit is a thin horse-shoe-shaped strip of Terai forest bound by tall sugarcane fields on all sides except for the slender forest corridors connecting it to the Shivalik forests of Uttarakhand to its west, Shuklaphanta national park (in Nepal) to its north and Dudhwa tiger reserve to its east.
Raza Kazmi is a Jharkhand-based conservationist and a keen student of India’s wildlife history.
I looked up the terrain on Google Maps, and it is just as Raza Kazmi describes it - Pilibhit is a thin horse-shoe-shaped strip of Terai forest bound by tall sugarcane fields on all sides except for the slender forest corridors connecting it to the Shivalik forests of Uttarakhand to its west, Shuklaphanta national park (in Nepal) to its north and Dudhwa tiger reserve to its east.
The Tiger in my Backyard
The lonely life of a forest bungalow guard in UP’s Pilibhit tiger reserve.
Written by Raza Kazmi | Published: January 21, 2018 12:05 am
“Just as dusk begins giving way to the night, I bolt myself inside the rest house. I have my dinner there and stay locked till daybreak. If someone arrives at the main gate at night, he opens the gate himself, I don’t go out. Tigers and leopards regularly enter the compound and there is just one solar light near the kitchen that works. Everything else is engulfed in darkness. Just a few days ago, two tigers came inside the campus and roared for a good two hours while I was holed inside this godforsaken bungalow all alone, waiting for dawn,” says Lalchandji, the chowkidaar at the Mala forest rest house in Uttar Pradesh’s little-known Pilibhit tiger reserve, as he rakes up the dying embers of the small fire we had lit to shield ourselves from the cold.
His caution isn’t without reason. There is a palpable fear among forest staff and locals all across this tiger reserve that has witnessed, perhaps, the worst spate of tiger attacks in India in recent history. More than 20 people have been killed by the striped cats over the past few months, more than one-third of the fatalities being in a 5 km radius of the Mala bungalow. The conflict is primarily fuelled by the unique geography of this tiger reserve. Pilibhit is a thin horse-shoe-shaped strip of Terai forest bound by tall sugarcane fields on all sides except for the slender forest corridors connecting it to the Shivalik forests of Uttarakhand to its west, Shuklaphanta national park (in Nepal) to its north and Dudhwa tiger reserve to its east. The tall sugarcane provides good cover to the big cats as well as their prey, and, consequently, tigers regularly move about in these fields. Villagers must enter as well to tend to their fields and so the stage for tragedy is set. The forest department asks residents to avoid moving about in and around the forest after dark, and to move in large groups if they must.
Lalchandji, however, has no such safety net to fall back on. The ageing veteran stands guard all alone at the bungalow — except for occasional short visits during the day by fellow staff members — because, as he nonchalantly puts it, “Who else will take care of it if not me?” He isn’t a chowkidaar by designation, though. “I am an ardali [orderly]. I got regularised after working nearly three decades on daily wage. I got posted as an ad-hoc chowkidaar here 15 years ago when the last guy died. They have forgotten me here since,” he says with a shrug.
He would have made his peace with this life, but for the the “damn tigers and leopards”. “They won’t leave me in peace even during the day, sometimes. Just a few months ago, three large tigers walked into this fallow field in broad daylight,” he says, pointing towards a small field, barely 15 feet behind me, that was seasonally used to raise nursery crops. “There I was taking a nice bath in the sun when suddenly there were a few peacock calls. The next thing I know, three full grown tigers suddenly walk out of the forest, casually jump over the barbed wire fence and lie down in this field.” His tone betrays a rare hint of excitement. “I was so flustered I couldn’t even get my clothes on! I ran half-naked into the kitchen and bolted the doors. And don’t even get me started on that rascal leopard who climbed up the roof of my quarter!” he scoffs. I try not to laugh at this amusing tirade, but it’s a difficult task: he speaks of them like a grumpy old man expressing his annoyance at street urchins. “They make my life miserable,” he complains, before lapsing into silence. “But, at least, they give me company on lonely days,” he says.
The deer are a big draw for predators in the area. (Photo: Raza Kazmi)Just as he is finishing his story, his phone rings. He squints his eyes, takes out his ancient phone, and then presses the reject button. “Ye ek aur narak bana rakha hai jeevan ko is saale phone ne.” (This damn phone is another object that is making my life hell), he groans. “People from home keep calling, asking me to come for festivals and functions. I have just had three holidays in the last one year. I even spent Diwali alone here. In the silence of the night, I could hear the faint sounds of celebration from Mala village,” he says, his voice plaintive. “This damn phone rang just then, a call from home. I rejected the call…stupid mobile phones,” he mutters.
I ask him why he doesn’t press for leaves. After all, his home is only about 6 km away and his health has steadily declined over the past two years. “Didn’t I tell you already? Who will take care of this place then?” he says and lapses into silence. “But it is going to be over soon. I will be retiring in two months’ time. Then, I will rest for as long as I want. I have some land, maybe I will start farming again,” he says, as a flock of oriental pied hornbills settle on a fig tree for the night.
The glowing red embers of the fire have begun dying. We retire for the night. The next morning, I find him restlessly pacing around the fire he has lit close to the kitchen. I greet him and he lets out a broad smile. “You are sleeping easy here. A leopard walked right past your head in the night!” he says, showing me fresh pugmarks next to the bungalow’s verandah. “Stupid leopard,” he chuckles.
Raza Kazmi is a Jharkhand-based conservationist and a keen student of India’s wildlife history.
Monday, March 5, 2018
The magnificent Rutland Island that needs to be 'saved' from a defence project
16th April 2017
Continued from here.
The MNS group was visiting the Andaman islands and staying at ANET in Wandoor. Through the efforts of Mr Shankarnarayan, we had obtained permission to visit Rutland Island!
We set out, if I remember right at around 6am in the morning. The sun was up, and we travelled in our van along the thinly populated areas, going east first and then south, hugging the coast of the main island.
There was a little hamlet called Manjery, which amused and delighted me, as there is a Manjeri in Kerala that's famous in the family, but I am digressing. After about 45 minutes, through the tree cover, we spied the waters, and what a lovely sight it was!
We were at Pongibalu jetty, from where we were to take an open motorboat to Rutland.
The pictures below do not do justice to the natural beauty we saw. Clear waters, colourful fish darting in schools, mangroves at the edge, blue skies and a lovely breeze to counter the sharp April sun.
We were lucky to have with us Manish and Sathya from ANET, along with the forest department guide, to take us through what we saw and experienced.
garfish or sea needles, and their long needle-shaped snouts made them easy to spot.
Then there were schools of parrotfish! What colours! Hard as I tried, I could not manage a picture of them, so fast were they in darting in and out.
The boat returned and we set off.
We crossed a tiny island called Rifleman, and rounded the Diligence Straits before we saw the jetty on Rutland Island. We were going to the one inside the cove, not the more exposed one further east.
As we moved in, off the beach we learned that there are no original inhabitants (Jangil tribe) anymore, and there is one small village of settlers, but otherwise the island is basically uninhabited, with no roads as such.
That is all set to change as there is an approved plan to set up some defence installations and missile testing. Really? Seriously? Isn't there any other place they could use? Any other island?
Continued from here.
The MNS group was visiting the Andaman islands and staying at ANET in Wandoor. Through the efforts of Mr Shankarnarayan, we had obtained permission to visit Rutland Island!
We set out, if I remember right at around 6am in the morning. The sun was up, and we travelled in our van along the thinly populated areas, going east first and then south, hugging the coast of the main island.
There was a little hamlet called Manjery, which amused and delighted me, as there is a Manjeri in Kerala that's famous in the family, but I am digressing. After about 45 minutes, through the tree cover, we spied the waters, and what a lovely sight it was!
We were at Pongibalu jetty, from where we were to take an open motorboat to Rutland.
The pictures below do not do justice to the natural beauty we saw. Clear waters, colourful fish darting in schools, mangroves at the edge, blue skies and a lovely breeze to counter the sharp April sun.
We were lucky to have with us Manish and Sathya from ANET, along with the forest department guide, to take us through what we saw and experienced.
The views from Pongibalu, to the north |
South and west, with Rutland Island in the distance. |
Then there were schools of parrotfish! What colours! Hard as I tried, I could not manage a picture of them, so fast were they in darting in and out.
The boat returned and we set off.
Rifleman island? |
We crossed a tiny island called Rifleman, and rounded the Diligence Straits before we saw the jetty on Rutland Island. We were going to the one inside the cove, not the more exposed one further east.
As we moved in, off the beach we learned that there are no original inhabitants (Jangil tribe) anymore, and there is one small village of settlers, but otherwise the island is basically uninhabited, with no roads as such.
That is all set to change as there is an approved plan to set up some defence installations and missile testing. Really? Seriously? Isn't there any other place they could use? Any other island?
Most of the Andaman archipelago depend on rainwater for fresh water. However Rutland Island has freshwater streams running through it, and from one such stream, a huge pipe carries water to the main south Andaman island, as was seen in the picture of the jetty.
Our Forest Guide can be seen standing on on one of the chambers along the pipe way.
He explained to us how the forests of the island were dense and covered with cane, bamboo and lianas and creepers, along with the forest giants, and the mixed forest is healthy and vibrant.
The giant evergreens, were just that.
The giant evergreens, were just that.
There are many Dipterocarps it seems!
Another Dipteorcarpus variety (I think), this one in seed. |
The rattan canes (Calamus longisetus) were everywhere. Manish showed us the 'hooks' that these climbers have by which they successfully climb over everything! |
The sun was high in the sky, and the air was humid. We were all sweating profusely, even though our path was more or less in the shade of the large trees.
The tree species would require several weeks of visits for me to note and identify properly. There were endemics like Planchonia andamanicus, Padauk - we saw a large fallen tree, Andaman crepe myrtle - Lagerstroemia hypoleuca, besides Siris, Junglee badam and other familiar trees.
Emerald Gecko!
The tree species would require several weeks of visits for me to note and identify properly. There were endemics like Planchonia andamanicus, Padauk - we saw a large fallen tree, Andaman crepe myrtle - Lagerstroemia hypoleuca, besides Siris, Junglee badam and other familiar trees.
The Evergreen Giants |
The overgrowth |
Shades of Green |
Emerald Gecko!
It moved in and out of view as it circled the bark in search of its lunch of insects. |
We moved off the trail and settled by a little freshwater pond, where Pritam decided that the only way to cool off was to get right in. So he strode in, and settled in the middle of the shallow pond, (with a surly look on his face which discouraged any smart comments), with only his hat-covered head out of water. He did emerge in a little while in a better frame of mind it has to be said!
His mood improved even more when he spotted the Andaman Bulbul and Coucal in the foliage by the pond. There were orioles too. Watersides always lead to good bird sightings.
After a picnic lunch, we turned back on the trail to return to the jetty. I think the plan was to traverse the entire length of the island, but given the speed of our progress we made it only half way!
I don't think we quite know all the floral and faunal treasures that Rutland Island holds and yet the GOI wants to come in with this defence project. Call me naive, a bleeding heart, anti-development or whatever, but this whole project makes no sense to me.
If we could move the neutrino project out of the Western Ghats, why not this as well?
His mood improved even more when he spotted the Andaman Bulbul and Coucal in the foliage by the pond. There were orioles too. Watersides always lead to good bird sightings.
After a picnic lunch, we turned back on the trail to return to the jetty. I think the plan was to traverse the entire length of the island, but given the speed of our progress we made it only half way!
I don't think we quite know all the floral and faunal treasures that Rutland Island holds and yet the GOI wants to come in with this defence project. Call me naive, a bleeding heart, anti-development or whatever, but this whole project makes no sense to me.
If we could move the neutrino project out of the Western Ghats, why not this as well?
Terns awaited our return at Pongibalu. |
That evening, we strolled back to the Wandoor beach, via the Lohabarrack Sanctuary entrance. The waters are enclosed by a kind of net, and as the sun goes down, the local police are out with their whistles getting the people off the beaches. The threat of salt water crocodiles is very real.
As the skies darkened, we engaged in some black humour as we discussed how inadequate those nets seemed in the face of a large saltie.
It seems we were not far from the truth, as an attack in November 2017 led to the death of one man on that very same beach.
As the skies darkened, we engaged in some black humour as we discussed how inadequate those nets seemed in the face of a large saltie.
It seems we were not far from the truth, as an attack in November 2017 led to the death of one man on that very same beach.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Success stories and learnings
Restored Forests Breathe Life Into Efforts Against Climate Change
LA
VIRGEN, Costa Rica — Over just a few decades in the mid-20th century,
this small country chopped down a majority of its ancient forests. But
after a huge conservation push and a wave of forest regrowth, trees now
blanket more than half of Costa Rica.
Far
to the south, the Amazon forest was once being quickly cleared to make
way for farming, but Brazil has slowed the loss so much that it has done
more than any other country to limit the emissions leading to global
warming.
And
on the other side of the world, in Indonesia, bold new promises have
been made in the past few months to halt the rampant cutting of that
country’s forests, backed by business interests with the clout to make
it happen.
In
the battle to limit the risks of climate change, it has been clear for
decades that focusing on the world’s immense tropical forests — saving
the ones that are left, and perhaps letting new ones grow — is the
single most promising near-term strategy.
That
is because of the large role that forests play in what is called the
carbon cycle of the planet. Trees pull the main greenhouse gas, carbon
dioxide, out of the air and lock the carbon away in their wood and in
the soil beneath them. Destroying them, typically by burning, pumps much
of the carbon back into the air, contributing to climate change.
Over
time, humans have cut down or damaged at least three-quarters of the
world’s forests, and that destruction has accounted for much of the
excess carbon that is warming the planet.
But
now, driven by a growing environmental movement in countries that are
home to tropical forests, and by mounting pressure from Western
consumers who care about sustainable practices, corporate and government
leaders are making a fresh push to slow the cutting — and eventually to
halt it. In addition, plans are being made by some of those same
leaders to encourage forest regrowth on such a giant scale that it might
actually pull a sizable fraction of human-released carbon dioxide out
of the air and lock it into long-term storage.
With
the recent signs of progress, long-wary environmental groups are
permitting themselves a burst of optimism about the world’s forests.
“The
public should take heart,” said Rolf Skar, who helps lead forest
conservation work for the environmental group Greenpeace. “We are at a
potentially historic moment where the world is starting to wake up to
this issue, and to apply real solutions.”
Still,
Greenpeace and other groups expect years of hard work as they try to
hold business leaders and politicians accountable for the torrent of
promises they have made lately. The momentum to slow or halt
deforestation is fragile, for many reasons. And even though rich Western
governments have hinted for years that they might be willing to spend
tens of billions of dollars to help poor countries save their forests,
they have allocated only a few billion dollars.
Around
the world, trees are often cut down to make room for farming, and so
the single biggest threat to forests remains the need to feed growing
populations, particularly an expanding global middle class with the
means to eat better. Saving forests, if it can be done, will require
producing food much more intensively, on less land.
“For
thousands of years, the march of civilization has been associated with
converting natural ecosystems to crops that serve only man,” said Glenn
Hurowitz, a managing director at Climate Advisers, a consultancy in Washington.
“What’s
happening now is that we are trying to break that paradigm. If that
succeeds, it’s going to be a major development in human history.”
A Remarkable Comeback
Deep
inside a Costa Rican rain forest, white-faced capuchin monkeys leapt
through the tree tops. Nunbirds and toucans flew overhead, and a huge
butterfly, flashing wings of an iridescent blue, fluttered through the
air.
Ignoring
the profusion of life around him, Bernal Paniagua Guerrero focused his
gaze on a single 20-foot tree, placing a tape measure around the spindly
trunk and calling a number out to his sister, Jeanette Paniagua
Guerrero, who recorded it on a clipboard.
With
that, the tree, a black manú just over two inches in diameter, entered
the database of the world’s scientific knowledge. Its growth will be
tracked year by year until it dies a natural death — or somebody decides
to chop it down for the valuable, rot-resistant wood.
The Paniaguas and their co-worker, Enrique Salicette Nelson, work for an American scientist, Robin Chazdon, helping her chronicle a remarkable comeback.
Cuatro
Rios, the forest they were standing in one recent day, looked, to a
casual eye, as if it must have been there forever. Trees stretched as
high as 100 feet, and a closed canopy of leaves cast the understory into
deep shade — one hallmark of a healthy tropical rain forest.
In
fact, the land was a cattle pasture only 45 years ago. When the market
for beef fell, the owners let the forest reclaim it. Now the Cuatro Rios
forest, near the tiny village of La Virgen, is a study plot for Dr.
Chazdon, an ecologist from the University of Connecticut, who has become
a leading voice in arguing that large-scale forest regrowth can help to
solve some of the world’s problems.
Indeed, forests are already playing an outsize role in limiting the damage humans are doing to the planet.
For
the entire geologic history of the earth, carbon in various forms has
flowed between the ground, the air and the ocean. A large body of
scientific evidence shows that the amount of carbon in the air at any
given time, in the form of carbon dioxide, largely determines the
planet’s temperature.
The
burning of coal, oil and natural gas effectively moves carbon out of
the ground and into the active carbon cycle operating at the earth’s
surface, causing a warming of the globe that scientists believe is more
rapid now than in any similar period of geologic history.
Though the higher temperatures are causing extensive problems, including heat waves and rising seas,
the increasing carbon dioxide also acts as a sort of plant fertilizer.
The gas is the primary source of the carbon that plants, using the
energy of sunlight, turn into sugars and woody tissue.
Scientific
reports suggest that 20 percent to 25 percent of the carbon dioxide
that people are pumping into the air is being absorbed by trees and
other plants, which keep taking up more and more even as human emissions
keep rising.
But
when people damage or destroy forests, that puts carbon dioxide into
the air, worsening the warming problem. Historically, forests have been
chopped down all over the planet. Now they are actually regrowing across
large stretches of the Northern Hemisphere, and the most worrisome
destruction is occurring in relatively poor countries in the tropics.
Scientists
concluded decades ago that deforestation must be stopped, both to limit
climate change and to conserve the world’s biological diversity. These
days, they are also coming to understand the huge potential of new or
recovering forests to help pull dangerous emissions out of the air.
“Every
time I hear about a government program that is going to spend billions
of dollars on some carbon capture and storage program, I just laugh and
think, what is wrong with a tree?” said Nigel Sizer, director of forest
programs at the World Resources Institute, a think tank in Washington. “All you have to do is look out the window, and the answer is there.”
Scientists
are still trying to figure out how much of a difference an ambitious
forest regrowth strategy could make. But a leading figure in the
discussion — Richard A. Houghton, acting president of the Woods Hole Research Center
in Massachusetts — has argued for turning some 1.2 billion acres of
degraded or marginally productive agricultural land into forests.
That
is an exceedingly ambitious figure, equal to about half the land in the
United States. But researchers say it would be possible, in principle,
if farming in poor countries became far more efficient. Some countries
have already pledged to restore tens of millions of acres.
Dr.
Houghton believes that if his target were pursued aggressively, and
coupled with stronger efforts to protect existing forests, the rapid
growth of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere could be slowed sharply or
possibly even halted.
That,
he believes, would give the world a few decades for an orderly
transition away from fossil fuels. “This is not a solution, but it would
help us buy some time,” Dr. Houghton said.
Finding an Effective Tactic
The
Amazon, spreading across nine countries of South America, is the
world’s largest tropical forest. The majority of the Amazon is in
Brazil, which for decades treated it as a limitless resource.
Sometimes
aided by United States government funding for development, Brazil
encouraged road construction that effectively opened the forest to
settlement, including illegal land grabs. Crews harvested select trees
for timber and then cut or burned the rest to make room for cattle
ranching and soybean farming.
Deforestation
was so rampant that by the middle of the last decade, 17 percent of the
Amazon had been cut, and millions more acres had been damaged.
Environmental groups worldwide sounded the alarm, as did indigenous and
traditional peoples whose ancestors had lived in the forest for
thousands of years.
As
deforestation hit a peak in 2004, the Brazilian government came under
international condemnation, and it began trying to halt the destruction.
In 2006, environmental groups found a way to bring marketplace pressure
to bear.
Crops
grown on deforested land, notably soybeans, were being used to produce
meat for Western companies like McDonald’s, creating a potential
liability in the eyes of their customers. Greenpeace invaded McDonald’s
restaurants and plastered posters of Ronald McDonald wielding a chain
saw. That company and others responded by pressuring their suppliers,
who imposed a moratorium on products linked to deforestation.
The
Brazilian government used satellites to step up its monitoring, cut off
loans to some farmers in counties with high deforestation rates, and
used aggressive police tactics against illegal logging and clearing.
Brazilian state governments and large business groups, including some
beef producers, joined the efforts.
The
intense pressure resulted in a sharp drop in deforestation, by 83
percent, over the past decade. Moreover, the Brazilian ministry of
agriculture began to focus on helping farmers raise yields without
needing additional land.
Not
only were millions of acres of forest saved, but the carbon dioxide
kept out of the air by Brazil’s success also far exceeded anything any
other country had ever done to slow global warming. Norway put up
substantial funds to aid the effort, but otherwise, Brazil did it
without much international help.
With
so little money from abroad, the gains in Brazil are considered
fragile, especially if a future government were to lose interest in
forest protection. Daniel C. Nepstad,
an American forest scientist who has worked in Brazil for decades and
now heads a group called the Earth Innovation Institute, said, “We could
still see a huge slide backward.”
The Next Big Test
With deforestation somewhat under control in Brazil, Indonesia is becoming a big test of the environmental groups’ strategy.
Deforestation
is rampant there, with people chopping down even national forests with
impunity. The biggest reason is to clear land for the lucrative
production of vegetable oil from the fruit of a type of palm tree.
Just
a handful of companies sell the oil — used in a wide array of consumer
goods like soap, ice cream, confections and lipstick — into global
markets, and the environmental groups have been targeting these big
middlemen. Companies controlling the bulk of the global palm-oil trade
have recently signed no-deforestation pledges, and Indonesia’s
influential chamber of commerce recently threw its weight behind a
demand for new forest legislation in the country.
But
even if Indonesia takes strong action, there are fears that the gains
could prove fleeting. The economic incentive to chop down forests
remains powerful, and crackdowns on deforestation can just spur
profiteers to go elsewhere.
“Asian
companies are rushing into Africa and grabbing as much land as
possible,” said Mr. Hurowitz, of Climate Advisers. “That’s kind of
scary.”
Still,
with hopes running high that the world may finally be rounding a corner
on the deforestation problem, attention is turning to the possibility
of large-scale forest regrowth.
Dr.
Chazdon believes strongly in halting deforestation, but she says that
many of the plots of old-growth forest that have already been saved are
too small to ensure the long-term survival of the plants and animals in
them. Forest expansion onto nearby land could help to conserve that
biological diversity, in addition to pulling carbon dioxide out of the
air.
But
the strategy presents many challenges. It will require abandoning
marginal agricultural land, meaning the remaining farms will have to
become more efficient to keep up with demand for food, as well as a
growing demand for biofuels. And some scientists have warned that if the
strategy is poorly executed, agriculture could merely be pushed away
from forests into grasslands or savannas, which themselves contain huge
amounts of carbon that could escape into the atmosphere.
Costa
Rica, a “green republic” famous worldwide for its efforts to protect
forests, shows how difficult a forest restoration strategy can be in
practice.
Legal
protection is minimal for much of the forest that has grown there in
recent decades. The workers who help Dr. Chazdon track her plots often
see telltale signs of illegal hunting and logging, and they say the
authorities are lax about stopping it. “So many ugly things happen that
we just lose a little faith,” said Mr. Paniagua, one of the workers.
Moreover,
a wave of pineapple production to supply a growing world market is
sweeping the country, tempting many owners to reclear their land.
Growing Chinese demand, in particular, has raised the fear that “the
whole of Costa Rica will be paved in pineapples,” said Carlos de la
Rosa, director of La Selva Biological Station, a famed research outpost where Dr. Chazdon does much of her work.
But
for now, the second-growth forests of Costa Rica, covering roughly 14
percent of the land area of the country, at least show what may be
possible if the world gets more ambitious about tackling global warming.
Brazil, too, is beginning to see regrowth on a large scale in the
Amazon, and is spending millions to restore forests along its Atlantic
coast.
Decades
of watching the Costa Rican forests recover have taught Dr. Chazdon
that, at least in areas that still have healthy forests nearby to supply
seeds, the main thing human beings need to do is just get out of the
way. After all, forests were recovering from fires and other natural
calamities long before people ever came along to chop them down.
“The forests know how to do this,” Dr. Chazdon said. “They’ve been doing it forever, growing back.”
Correction: December 25, 2014
An article on Wednesday about conserving and restoring forests as a strategy to fight climate change referred incorrectly in some editions to the relative size of the Amazon forest. The Amazon is about two-thirds the size of the lower 48 American states; it does not cover more land than the lower 48 states.
An article on Wednesday about conserving and restoring forests as a strategy to fight climate change referred incorrectly in some editions to the relative size of the Amazon forest. The Amazon is about two-thirds the size of the lower 48 American states; it does not cover more land than the lower 48 states.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
How to Make a Forest | OPEN Magazine
How to Make a Forest | OPEN Magazine
Before their menfolk started migrating out in droves, before rainwater started running off the eroded slopes of the Doodhatoli mountains in Uttarakhand, the people here had suffered an erosion of confidence and dignity. So Sachchidanand Bharati didn’t believe it when he read in 1993 about the region’s age-old water management systems. It was an account of large ponds called taal (like Nainital), small ponds called khaal, and chaal, a string of small, terraced tanks to catch water running off the slope.
If the book was right, the name of Bharati’s village—Ufrainkhaal—meant it was built around a small pond. But there wasn’t one. He went around asking old people, but nobody knew of the existence of a small pond in Ufrainkhaal, 6,000 feet above sea level in the mountains north of the Jim Corbett National Park.
A teacher in the village intermediate school, Bharati had cut his teeth as a young volunteer in the Chipko movement of the 1970s, hanging around environmentalist Chandi Prasad Bhatt. He was well known in the neighbourhood for rallying the villagers of the area against a government logging permit in 1982 to fell the forests that sustained them. His efforts were non-violent and successful: the government had to rescind the logging permit. But the forests were degraded because rain, which was plentiful, ran off the slopes into distant valleys, eroding the soil along the way. The rainwater had to be retained on the slopes.
But there were no accounts to be found of building khaals and chaals to catch the gushing runoff. Bharati decided to experiment with designs and sites in 1993. The hill folk knew their terrain, knew terraced farms and thought, as Bharati found, in three dimensions, unlike the plainspeople. But the water scarcity and the degraded forests had made livelihoods impossible, and the villages were bereft of men, who had gone ‘down’ in search of employment.
Bharati began talking to the women who were left behind. In the first year, they built a chaal on a monsoonal channel that had dried up. After the next monsoon, it retained water longer, the surrounding soil remained moist, the forest looked healthier. Over the next five years, Bharati’s Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan built several chaals in Ufrainkhaal and neighbouring villages, improving their design through trial.
They had broken free of the vicious cycle of drought/flood—more water meant the forests were getting more dense, which in turn retained even more water. The big test came during the drought of 2000-01. Forest fires are a regular feature in the pine plantations that pass for government forests in the region—pine kills all undergrowth and its needles pile up into a tinderbox. The fires did not spread to the regenerated oak forests, which have soil moisture and diversity. Yet there was the fear that the fires will engulf them, so the village women who had built the chaals turned out in numbers to prevent fires in government forests. Three women died in these efforts. The fire was controlled.
The women guard the forest with their lives. Literally. Their method is remarkable. Guard duty is determined by khakhar, a stick with bells tied on top. Whoever sees the khakhar pitched in front of her house takes the next turn at guard duty. When she gets tired, she goes and pitches it in front of a neighbour’s house. Simple. No duty roster, no register, no grievance. They don’t need official orders or coercion to protect what is theirs.
They also don’t need a budget or an office building or a development project. Their only major expense is on the sweets they distribute at their camps; this is met through donations from friends and well-wishers. Labour is contributed without cost. The annual expenses seldom exceed Rs 25,000.
No need for full-time staff either. Apart from the school teacher Bharati, there are three others who work for this non-organisation. There is Devi Dayal, their postman; Dinesh, a vaidya who practises ayurveda; and Vikram Singh, who runs a grocery shop. All four have to meet lots of people every day. Messages get conveyed and relayed just fine with homegrown IT that mainly resides between the ears, and people turn up to volunteer without Facebook reminders.
Bharati and his colleagues have steadfastly rejected the trappings of a formal organisation. They don’t issue press releases or seek publicity, they do not demand development funding. In fact, they once refused an FAO offer of a grant of Rs 1 crore. The villagers here know a healthy forest is essential to survive, and they revel in being its protectors. When the government offered a watershed development project, Bharati politely refused.
Yet they have built about 20,000 chaals in about 125 villages over the past 19 years—the numbers are estimates, because they don’t go around counting and documenting their work; they just do it, and move to the next task. And they don’t have fancy terms like ‘social forestry’, ‘community forestry’ or ‘Joint Forest Management’ to describe their work either. The largest of their regenerated forests is in Daund, which spans about 800 hectares.
It’s not just the expanse either. The canopy of their regenerated forests is 100 feet high. The humus on the floor is several inches thick. There are birds and wild animals. There is water for the forest, for agriculture and to grow fodder. There is liquidity for all kinds of life.
2 June 2012
How to Make a Forest
...with minimum fuss and maximum effect
It is possible to make the most adverse circumstances bend to extraordinary will. The story of one such green warrior in the Doodhatoli mountains of Uttarakhand
Way to go
If the book was right, the name of Bharati’s village—Ufrainkhaal—meant it was built around a small pond. But there wasn’t one. He went around asking old people, but nobody knew of the existence of a small pond in Ufrainkhaal, 6,000 feet above sea level in the mountains north of the Jim Corbett National Park.
A teacher in the village intermediate school, Bharati had cut his teeth as a young volunteer in the Chipko movement of the 1970s, hanging around environmentalist Chandi Prasad Bhatt. He was well known in the neighbourhood for rallying the villagers of the area against a government logging permit in 1982 to fell the forests that sustained them. His efforts were non-violent and successful: the government had to rescind the logging permit. But the forests were degraded because rain, which was plentiful, ran off the slopes into distant valleys, eroding the soil along the way. The rainwater had to be retained on the slopes.
But there were no accounts to be found of building khaals and chaals to catch the gushing runoff. Bharati decided to experiment with designs and sites in 1993. The hill folk knew their terrain, knew terraced farms and thought, as Bharati found, in three dimensions, unlike the plainspeople. But the water scarcity and the degraded forests had made livelihoods impossible, and the villages were bereft of men, who had gone ‘down’ in search of employment.
Bharati began talking to the women who were left behind. In the first year, they built a chaal on a monsoonal channel that had dried up. After the next monsoon, it retained water longer, the surrounding soil remained moist, the forest looked healthier. Over the next five years, Bharati’s Doodhatoli Lok Vikas Sansthan built several chaals in Ufrainkhaal and neighbouring villages, improving their design through trial.
They had broken free of the vicious cycle of drought/flood—more water meant the forests were getting more dense, which in turn retained even more water. The big test came during the drought of 2000-01. Forest fires are a regular feature in the pine plantations that pass for government forests in the region—pine kills all undergrowth and its needles pile up into a tinderbox. The fires did not spread to the regenerated oak forests, which have soil moisture and diversity. Yet there was the fear that the fires will engulf them, so the village women who had built the chaals turned out in numbers to prevent fires in government forests. Three women died in these efforts. The fire was controlled.
The women guard the forest with their lives. Literally. Their method is remarkable. Guard duty is determined by khakhar, a stick with bells tied on top. Whoever sees the khakhar pitched in front of her house takes the next turn at guard duty. When she gets tired, she goes and pitches it in front of a neighbour’s house. Simple. No duty roster, no register, no grievance. They don’t need official orders or coercion to protect what is theirs.
They also don’t need a budget or an office building or a development project. Their only major expense is on the sweets they distribute at their camps; this is met through donations from friends and well-wishers. Labour is contributed without cost. The annual expenses seldom exceed Rs 25,000.
No need for full-time staff either. Apart from the school teacher Bharati, there are three others who work for this non-organisation. There is Devi Dayal, their postman; Dinesh, a vaidya who practises ayurveda; and Vikram Singh, who runs a grocery shop. All four have to meet lots of people every day. Messages get conveyed and relayed just fine with homegrown IT that mainly resides between the ears, and people turn up to volunteer without Facebook reminders.
Bharati and his colleagues have steadfastly rejected the trappings of a formal organisation. They don’t issue press releases or seek publicity, they do not demand development funding. In fact, they once refused an FAO offer of a grant of Rs 1 crore. The villagers here know a healthy forest is essential to survive, and they revel in being its protectors. When the government offered a watershed development project, Bharati politely refused.
Yet they have built about 20,000 chaals in about 125 villages over the past 19 years—the numbers are estimates, because they don’t go around counting and documenting their work; they just do it, and move to the next task. And they don’t have fancy terms like ‘social forestry’, ‘community forestry’ or ‘Joint Forest Management’ to describe their work either. The largest of their regenerated forests is in Daund, which spans about 800 hectares.
It’s not just the expanse either. The canopy of their regenerated forests is 100 feet high. The humus on the floor is several inches thick. There are birds and wild animals. There is water for the forest, for agriculture and to grow fodder. There is liquidity for all kinds of life.
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