Assam Day 8 and 9 - Pobitora, adjutant storks and the civet cat

Pobitora - has been in the news lately.  Denotified as a sanctuary by the Assam govt, a decision then thankfully stayed by the Supreme Court.  I remember the sanctuary from our 2020 MNS trip, and realised I had not updated my trip notes here.

January 18th 2020 

Continued from here.

Beginning with Lesser Adjutants

We departed in the morning for Pobitara, a 200 km westwards drive, staying to the south of the river.
Around 10 in the morning, and the Innovas all suddenly pulled up to the side of the road.  Tubelight me, always last to see things - wondering what all the excitement was about, and then I saw them - Adjutant stork nests.  A silk cotton tree full of them!!  These are probably the most morose-looking birds I have seen.  Wetlands birds have a serious look generally, but these ones are in another league - they really looked grumpy and very unhappy with their state of affairs.

The Lesser Adjutant (Leptoptilos javanicus) is less of a scavenger than the Greater. And found around wetlands, and November to January is there breeding season in Assam.  A rather messy mass of sticks formed the nest.  In many we saw little scrawny, unkempt heads poking out.  Since we were watching from below, it was difficult to see them, as the nests looked deep. (I came back and read that they could be as much as a metre deep, oh my goodness!). There were 10 nests - a few had been abandoned, done with.

Of course this called for a tea break, and we stopped at a place called Sugandhi, which took forever to produce the said tea.  The only advantage of this stop was that I saw a Nepali bridegroom and had a Skype call with some Chennai friends!

We moved along, making good time, and were at Jagi Road, (Whats with Assam calling places “road”, remember Barpeta Road?) just probably half hour from our destination when we ran into the Jonbeel mela crowds and road blocks.  It was the last day of the Bihu mela, which operates on a barter system, and is a BIG event for the indigenous communities.  We saw one side of the bund was allocated to parking - taxis, lorries, people carriers of all sorts, and on the other side was the fair.  So we were sternly told to do a U turn and use another route, as the road was blocked.  I was quite intrigued and wanted to return to see this mela - only to be told it would be disbanded that evening.

Detoured and all, and we crossed a river, with scores of brick kilns on either side, so I suppose the clay of that area makes for good bricks.  We came to the huge “Jheel”, which is outside Pobitara, and was full of birds!  

We reached Maibong Eco Resort, which is off in a little lane, and has rooms on either side of the lane.  Devika and I took a room in the main building - these rooms were compact with easier access to the food and reception - better for her as she wouldn’t need to walk much, given her hurt toe.  The rooms on the other side were more spacious and around a central open garden space.  To one side, the resort had created a “hide” where they promised sightings of the hornbill, for a mere sum of Rs 500 - I thought this was a bit rich, and as it turned out those staying that side got to see the hornbills even without going to the hide.

We had a hot lunch of puris and dal, overlooking a little pond - all very scenic.  The manager told us that the pond saws some interesting bird action in the mornings.  

And then we set off for Pobitora.  Mainly grasslands and good rhino territory, I for one was appalled at the extent of cattle inside the sanctuary.  Being close to Guwahati, this sanctuary is well visited, so why this neglect?  It is also relatively new and small - 38sqkm.  There has been some translocation of rhinos from here to Manas, due to overpopulation.

In the new context of COVID, it doesn’t seem like a great idea having cattle and rhinos and water buffaloes in such close proximity to each other one would think.

Anyway, there was all sorts of grass, short tall, in water, dry.  We saw yellow-footed pigeons, starlings, a tree full of ber was a great sight, a parakeet looked annoyed at having its peace disturbed by the noisy jeep.  I apologised.

Yellow-footed green pigeons

A bar-filled tree

A parakeet - staring at us rather annoyed.

As the sun descended in the sky, we stopped close to one of the jheels.  On one side water buffalo and cattle, on the far horizon an eagle on a tree, to the left were a pair of Greater Adjutants.  In between some wild boar and egrets.  And a lone black stork.

The incidence of the civet cat 

Back to Maibong then, and a nice hot bath.  We were told to come to the reception at 7pm - civet cats would show up!  This we were all very intrigued by.  So we passed time until then, on the grass patch in front of the rooms on the other side - I learnt about the latest squash players from Nayantara and Nethra, and then the manager came and told us it was time for the civet show.

Then we all went to the reception area, and were told to be very quiet, no flash photography, no movements, and the lights were dimmed.  Chairs were adjusted, so second row also had a view. We waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Some wild variety of banana was thrown onto the tin roof.  We spoke in hushed voices.  We were told not to take our eyes off. 

Waiting for the civet

After a while, there was a scuffle, a black shadow passed on the tin roof and one piece of banana was gone!  The manager looked pleased with a I-told-you-so look.  MNS members looked bemused.  Did you see it?  I saw the tail I think, it went up the pipe, no it went down the roof.  It was at the edge.  No see it too banana from here.  Clearly very few had actually seen anything - such was the disparity between sighting accounts.  

There was still much banana left.  It will be back we were told.  More waiting.  Pritam looked unamused and disbelieving.  Backbenchers made their way out…only the believers were left behind.  And were rewarded with five more visits by the scurrying shadow, whose presence was marked by the disappearing bananas.

And so ended the amusing episode of the palm civet of Maibong.  It was clearly there, living under the roof - because the souvenir shop had a strange smell about it.  I thought it was some native fragrance.  Pritam calmly said it was civet pee and poop!

19 January – Day 9

Our last day in Assam!

By common consent, we decided to leave for Guwahati slowly, lingering at Maibong, doing birding on the lake front.  Only Kumar and family went off to Guwahati early to do some sightseeing.

The pond revealed water hens, a kingfisher, a flameback, and then there was the curious case of the flycatcher that only Bhuvanya and I could see, and poor Sudar could not spot, much to the ire of his wife.  Try as we may we could not get him to look at the “right” tree at the far end of the pond.  And when it finally flew in disgust is when he saw it, and then was most annoyed that we were pointing to the wrong tree!

This was during morning tea.

7am with some light and we set off for some walking and birding.  It was a foggy morning, and the members were struggling along the bund at different speeds.  Ducks and cormorants in the water, doves, starlings and bee eaters in the wires above.  On the other side of the road, farmers were busy with paddy cultivation.  At some point, stomachs began to growl, and so we headed back for breakfast, bath and packing.  

I went to the souvenir shop and picked up some t shirts, tea and caps for family and friends, and hurried to pack them and load the bags in the car.  We finally left closer to noon.

Anti CAA march in Guwahati

Our final Assamese lunch

Stopped at Guwahati for a massive lunch, saw an anti CAA protest, reached the airport, bumped into a cousin of mine, and then it was a long ride back via Kolkata to Chennai airport.  Met by Vish at the airport, and home after dropping off Pritam and Shuba.

And so ended my Assam odyssey…..though I did end up with a rasping cough, thankfully it was in pre-covid days, or rather when the virus was still rampant only in China, or so I believed.  

My mother was convinced that I had picked up the Covid virus from Assam, and it might well be the case, I would never know.

Pobitora and the monsoon this year - the need for highlands to be accessible

Assam: Prolonged floods force rhinos of Pobitora to seek refuge in houses

In the sanctuary with the highest density of rhinos in the world, severe floods have led to shortage of food, forcing animals to move out.

Tora Agarwala

Written by | Guwahati | Updated: July 26, 2020 2:34:30 pm

Displaced by the flood, a pair of rhinos visit the range office at the Pobitora Wildlife Sanctuary. (Source: Mukul Tamuly)

The rhino is about 30 feet from the bathroom, settled in a spot by the pond in Nripen Nath’s backyard. As it chews on his gourd vine, grunting occasionally, the 47-year-old and his two daughters watch silently. “I am not scared,” says Nath, who works as a tour guide, “I love animals.”

The same cannot be said for his aged parents, who, too, have been sharing this ‘Assam-type’ cottage on the fringes of the Pobitora Wildlife Sanctuary with the endangered animal for over a week now as it takes refuge from the floods.

“Chase it away, there are kids in this house’,” Nath recalls his father saying, when the rhino ambled in last Friday. But the animal has shown no signs of budging, except to forage for grass in the backyard, and on one occasion, destroy his bamboo shed.

Explained| Why annual floods are essential for the survival of Kaziranga National Park

It Rajamayong village, it is not only Nath’s home that is witness to such a curious sight. Sleeping in the courtyard of 70-year-old Radhika Devi’s house are a female rhino and her calf, forcing the occupants to stay indoors from sundown every day. “We can’t even use the bathroom [located outside the house] at night,” says a disgruntled Devi, on the phone from her village.

Rhinos straying out of Pobitora — located in the floodplains of the Brahmaputra river in the Morigaon district, and surrounded by at least 27 villages — is not new, especially during the annual floods when food becomes scant inside sanctuary. However, this year’s unusually prolonged deluge in Assam — which has taken 97 lives and affected nearly 40 lakh people — has resulted in a serious shortage of food forcing the animals to move out of the sanctuary for such long stretches for the first time.

“It is a very serious problem,” says MK Yadava, Additional Principal Chief Conservator of Forests (Wildlife) and Chief Wildlife Warden, Assam, “For the first time, we have had to provide them with grass and fodder from outside.”

As of Saturday, ninety per cent of the sanctuary remains submerged. “While floods are a natural occurrence, the situation is grave this year and the animals are stressed — all the grass is submerged,” says Jitendra Kumar, DFO, Guwahati Wildlife Division.

In July alone, multiple waves of floods have submerged the tiny wildlife sanctuary, giving its animals little time to adjust. “In 20 days, there have been three waves,” says Dr Bibhab Talukdar, rhino expert and secretary general of wildlife NGO Aaranyak. “Usually floods happen in cycles from June until mid-September, waters recede for about two-three weeks before another wave hits the sanctuary. But this time, while one wave has barely receded, another wave hits. This is a rare case.”

The rhino has been taking refuge by the pond in Nripen Nath’s house for a week now. (Source: Nripen Nath)

On Friday, two rhinos visited the sanctuary’s range office in search of food. Since then, Mukul Tamuly, Range Officer, Pobitora, has left the gates of his office open, so the rhinos can come feed themselves “as they please.” “We have also cut stacks of grass and left it out in the open for them,” he says.

In Nath’s house too, the rhino is getting a free range. “I have convinced my parents since I know a thing or two about animals,” says Nath. “They won’t attack for no reason. But our neighbours are scared, ringing up the forest department at the slightest movement.”

Currently, five rhinos are taking refuge in three homes in Rajamayong village. “Many others come and go,” says Tamuly, who is in constant touch with the families, in case they need help. “We are patrolling, creating awareness among people so they don’t chase it away. Any damages in their homes, we will compensate for.”

Animals are increasingly jostling for space in the 38.8 sq km Pobitora Wildlife Sanctuary (Source: Mukul Tamuly)

While the Kaziranga National Park is synonymous with rhinos, the little-known Pobitora — earlier a grazing reserve and notified as a wildlife sanctuary in 1998 — has the highest density of rhino population in the world. “There are 102 rhinos in a 16 sq km area of the sanctuary, which means about six to seven per sq km— imagine that,” says Tamuly, “In Kaziranga, there are about two per sq km.”

While the high density means that the area has a good gene pool and can be used as a source population to translocate rhinos, animals are increasingly jostling for space in the sanctuary, which is notified to be 38.8 sq km on paper. “As per the 1998 notification, Pobitora Wildlife Sanctuary should include the area of Pobitora Reserve Forest, the adjacent Rajamayong Hills as well as the khas land which connects the two areas,” says DFO Kumar, “However, the forest department still does not have control over the connecting area — if we did, then the animals would have a safer passage to the hill areas during the flood.”

Don’t miss from Explained| Why Assam is prone to floods, and what the solution is

Yadava said he has spoken to the Morigaon administration and the problem will be sorted as soon as there is some respite from floods and Covid in Assam. “But it is not just about getting possession of this area but consolidating the sanctuary. This is a matter which has not been given attention for so many years,” he says, “We are thinking of a more long term approach, for the floods will just worsen every year.”

Tamuly — who has been working in the sanctuary for a decade now — says that while it was imperative that Pobitora extends in area, the animals need highlands to take refuge on. “Some highlands need to be created as a short term measure at least,” he says, adding that even if areas are acquired higher roads will need to be built for a safe passage for animals to go to the Rajamayong Hills.

Apart from rhinos, feral buffaloes, wild boar also inhabit the sanctuary. “It was earlier a grazing reserve but came to limelight in the 1960s when rhinos were spotted,” says Talukdar, “So it is very common to find rhinos, along with cows, goats — and many times — people, in the same area, all very used to each other.”

But at Nath’s home these days, the rhino sleeps fitfully in its new environment. “It will hear a utensil fall in the kitchen, or someone washing clothes — then it wakes up and cocks its ear, wondering where the sound came from,” says Nath, with a laugh, adding that at night, the rhino will begin to feed, feasting on the vegetables they have planted. “My parents get angry, but I tell them — look, people from all over the world come to see the rhino, but here, the rhino has come to see us. Are we not lucky?”

© The Indian Express (P) Ltd

Mundapahar and Chidiyatapu - an Andaman photo essay

17th April 2017

Our Andaman explorations continued.  This was our last day at ANET, and we were headed to the southern most tip of south Andaman island, through the wooded forests of Chidiya Tapu and on to the trek off the Munda Pahar beach, to finally arrive at lands end, so to speak

We travelled in our mini bus upto a point where the farmlands gave way to forest, and from here we walked, in order to to spot birds and enjoy the sounds of the forest.

Massive trees like this grabbed my attention

And then I heard the bird before I spotted it.  The Andaman Shama! (Copsychus albiventris)

   

An important message greeted us as we came into the little hamlet of Chidiyatapu where we had breakfast.

The little enclosed cove at the hamlet

 

Peas and paratha - standard island fare,
we were told.

This row of shacks serves hungry tourists like us.  Simple, no fuss affairs.

Entering the Munda Pahar wildlife park and beach

Giant Sea Mahuas - an amazing sight

Yes they were rather massive.

A leaning Calophyllum added drama to the already dramatic setting.

The sands were littered with debris from the ocean, and  I dawdled here before the climb up the Munda Pahar hill. It was a cloudy day, and an Andaman Crested Serpent Eagle circled above.

The walk up was filled with views like this, that we caught whenever there was a gap in the tree cover.

Different depths added different colours to the waters.

We were all sweaty and hot by now

And then we were there!  Lands End.  Not for those with a fear of heights, and we stayed well away from the sheer cliff.  

Photo by Ashish with the Cinque islands in the horizon.  Those islands have a lovely sandy beach - we could see it through our binoculars.  We were told that there was some ill-advised "development" on that beach to host a Thai VIP, which was aborted when it led to quite a storm of bad PR.

A nesting pair of Pacific Reef Egrets occupied rocks on the edge of the cliff! - Photo by Ashish . As we watched them through our binoculars, I marvelled at how they looked so poised while the stiff wind blew across the cliff.

Our walk back down was gecko time, with Sathya of ANET 

Try spot it - beautifully camouflaged.

This better picture by Ashish.  There's a high degree of endemics on the islands, especially of reptiles.

Photo by Pritam - another variety

Photo by Pritam - This beauty was sunning itself.  Common Sun Skink?

Photo by Pritam - another view

Back to the beach and the Sea Mohuas, and some most welcome yelaneer!

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.

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.

Senna spectabilis overgrowth in Wayanad sanctuary

During our Pongal visit to Wayanad sanctuary, we went for a safari, entering from the Muthanga gate, only to find growth of this invasive species, which the forest department is struggling to deal with.

On our return, I was trying to determine the species - it seemed like a Cassia.  It seems to be Senna spectabilis.

The, rather serendipitously, I saw this article:

Showing the world they care - The Hindu: 

Sanjari, a collective of youths in the State, has set a model for similar organisations in the State by undertaking an eco-restoration drive inside the Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary.
The two-day programme, which concluded on Monday, was organised with the support of the Forest Department and Wildlife Conservation Society, India, in the Tholpetty range of forest under the sanctuary.
The wild growth of invasive alien plants such as Hypoestes phyllostachya and Maesopsis eminii is posing a threat to wildlife and indigenous plants in the sanctuary, which already faces threats from invasive plants such as Senna spectabilis, Mikania micrantha , Lantana, and Eupatorium.
According to sanctuary sources, the spread of Senna spectabilis is more dangerous than other exotic species owing to its quick growth.
A recent survey of the Wildlife Trust of India shows that the plant is widely distributed in the Muthanga, Tholpetty and Sulthan Bathery range of forests under the sanctuary. Moreover, the Kerala Forest Research Institute (KFRI) has identified 22 invasive alien plants inside the sanctuary.
Though the KFRI has found effective measures to eradicate the alien species, the department is yet to execute the measures effectively owing to dearth of fund. However, as many as 56 youths from across the State took part in the drive and they uprooted as many as 4,158 Senna spectabilis and hundreds of other alien plants inside the sanctuary.
More such drives“We are planning to launch a similar drive in the Muthanga, Sulthan Bathery and Kurichyad range of forests under the sanctuary in the coming days,” Arul Badusha, who coordinated the programme, said.
The youths also removed plastic wastes disposed by travellers on both sides of the Kattikulam-Tholpetty stretch of the Madikeri-Mananthavadi Interstate Highway passing through the sanctuary.
They also sensitised travellers by distributing pamphlets to them to the impacts of discarding plastic wastes in the sanctuary and the significance of conserving the wildlife habitat.
The sanctuary officials organised a trekking inside the forest and a class on ecology for the youths.

Hopefully, the invader does not destroy the local species of the sanctuary that supports so much wildlife, including tuskers, one of which we saw. 

The hills of Bramhagiri - a classic example of shola forests and montane grasslands

The Western Ghats is an amazing place.  The more I see it, the more marvellous it seems.  Those magnificent trees, the streams, the grasslands, shola forests... every visit is memorable.

The Bramhagiri hills in the border between Kerala and Karnataka is one such WG hotspot of biodiversity, and I have had the privilege of seeing these mountains from both the Coorg side and from Wayanad on trips organised by The Madras Naturalists' Society.

In April of 2015, we visited SAI sanctuary, a private sanctuary that is the efforts of Pam and Anil Malhotra, on the Coorg side, and more recently in January of 2018 we were in Wayanad.  The SAI Sanctuary trip was memorable in many ways - the glow worms, the walks, the meals, the skies filled with dramatic lightning, scorpions, snakes and much more.  So much excitement that I didn't know where to start, and I have postponed its telling by a few years!

This one is about the Bramhagiris, where you find the grassland-forest mosaic, characteristic of a lot of the Western Ghats ridges above 1500m.  It seems that over the last decade or so, these grasslands have seen a very strong and significant decline, as we have treated them as "poromboke", and a lot of it has been built over or converted to plantations.  A study in the Palani hills was reported in an article in The Hindu.

Researchers from Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE) in Bengaluru collaborated with a team from IISER in Tirupati, Botanical Survey of India, Vattakanal Conservation Trust and Gandhigram Rural Institute used satellite imagery to tabulate changes in the hilly landscape over nearly 530 sq.km. of the range which is popular for the hillstation, Kodaikanal.
If in 1973, shola grasslands spread across 373.78 sq.km. of the landscape, four decades later in 2014, it had shrunk to just 124.4 sq.km., marking a 66.7% decline. The reduction is seen even in native shola forests, whose area has declined by a third to 66.4 sq.km.
“These declines caught us by surprise, particularly considering that these dramatic changes have been occurring only around two decades ago,” said Milind Bunyan, Coordinator at the ATREE Academy for Conservation Science and Sustainability Studies, and the lead author of the paper that was published in PLOS One.
These drastic declines are particularly stark in shola grasslands (which are stunted forest growths of diverse grass species), and seem to be accelerating through the decades.
For the shola forests, however, the decline seems to have been arrested since 2003. Does this imply better conservation strategy for the woody forests, accompanied by a neglect of the grassland?    

The article also reports on the concomitant growth of timber plantations and agricultural land replacing these grasslands.


April 2015

The Bramhagiri hills in the distance, from the SAI sanctuary

These grasslands were similar to those on the peaks

Wherever we travelled in lower Coorg, the hills were always there, as were the leeches!

With overcast skies, and pre-monsoon humidities, we took a trip to the Iruppu Falls, part of the Bramhagiri sanctuary

The lush green forests were a sight for our summer-filled Chennai roasted eyes, as we entered the sanctuary.

The Bramhagiris sanctuary was legally notified in 1974, and is about 180 sqkms, and adjacent to Nagarhole (which we had driven through), and is an important elephant corridor.

The border runs through it as was evident from the mixture of Kannada and Malayalam signboards.

A lot of treks start from the Iruppu Falls, even a 9 kms one to the Bramhagiri peak, which we reached from the Thirunelly side this year. If we had done the Iruppu Falls-side trek, it would have been along the path of the Lakshmanthirtha river and the shola forests.

It was obviously popular with the bathers and tourists

At the start, a grand Peepul tree stood welcoming us, and a board informed us that it
was the "Peepul God".  I paid my respects.

The water flow was weak, being April, but the air was full of bird call, and there were
butterflies everywhere. They mud puddled in the wet soil, and I wondered why
they were not targeted by the leeches, hmm.

Malabar Banded Peacocks are endemic to the WG, and they were everywhere on the trail, as were Paris Peacocks.

This stream flows down and eventually joins the Cauvery.  i

Travancore wolf snake - Photo by Prasanna

Back down, and more excitement.  Fellow MNS traveller Prasanna felt a friendly lick when she put her hand in her backpack, which upon further investigation turned out to be a snake.

The bag was hurriedly taken to the edge of the forest and then with much instructions shouted from everyone, was turned upside down, and the pictured Travancore wolf snake slithered away at lightning speed.  Most of us, including me did not even get a look, so fast did it vanish!

Now, this incident had a telling effect on our driver from Mysore, a volley of nervous kannada, much gesticulation and a thorough cleaning like never before of his car!

We visited the Thirunelly  Vishnu temple briefly, after clambering up the necessary steps.  The temple is believed to be built by the Cheras, and the Papanasini river flows down from Bramhagiri, providing water to the temple and the town.  One our visit to the hills this year, we would often come across the pipe through which the water thundered down to the temple.

The grasslands interspersed with dense shola could be seen on the surrounding mist-laden hills

On to Kuruva Island in the Kabini delta.  Uninhabited it said, but we arrived to find it teeming with tourists and very much habited!  Do not expect to see much birdlife amidst the human cacophony, but the trees are majestic, and we were lucky to see a ....

...Flying lizard.  You will find it in the middle of the picture, and as I trained my binoculars on it, it soared to the next tree, and for that one sight, it was worth a visit!

In July of 2015, on a visit to Valparai, we saw the Grass Hills of Annamalais in the distance.   

The forest-grassland ecosystem of the Grass Hills in the Annamalais, seen from Valparai.

Jan 2018

A close encounter with the grassland-forest ecosystem had to wait until this year, when we were part of the MNS trip to Wayanad district.  We camped at Sultan Bathery over the Pongal weekend, and on Jan 14th, we left the KTDC's Pepper Grove at 530 am to drive down to Thirunelly to take the Thirunelly-Bramhagiri trek.  We began in darkness, and dawn emerged slowly, with the morning mist hampering the visibility.  We were almost at the Thirunelly station, when at 720am, just as we turned around a bend,     we caught a glimpse of a tusker munching his way though the forest.  It had its back to us, and preferred it that way obviously, as it continued to retreat and move into the forest.  

A wild elephant sighting for me is always special.  It cheers me, fills me with delight and awe and yet, makes me introspective and humble, and in a way I can't explain I feel a little shameful. Ashamed at what I as homeo sapiens have done to these magnificent creatures, provoking them into conflict, crowding them out of the planet that belongs to them as much as me, isolating herds, blocking off their corridors of access, chaining them in my temples, maiming and killing them for their tusks.

I was greedy for more such dracaenas, but it was not to be.  On this trip.  

We reached the starting point of the trek and had a upma breakfast before starting our climb through the forests.  We had our leech socks on, and of course not a single leech did we spy on the whole walk!

Blue skies and tall trees.  That was all my soul needed it seemed!

Our forest guide was Raju whom we learnt was a local Paniya tribe, and he told me that he goes up on this trek every day!  He was patient and seemed to manage a smattering of Tamil, of course knew Malayalam.  We also met Muneer along the way.  He was from the  Ferns Naturalists Society, and he pointed out the Malabar Trogon which was perched on a branch in the shade, just a little while into our trek.  Many of the group did see it, not me of course, which is par for the course as far as my birding goes.  For me, the birds have to sit there, out in the open (carrying a name board if possible), and I would then spot it!  

To my eternal astonishment, I did see the Brown Breasted flycatcher, the Malabar barbet, White breasted blue flycatcher  and the Chestnut headed bee eater.  Each one a beauty, but the barbet was the best, sitting high up in the crown of a tree, with the sun catching the red and blue!  The Chestnut-headed bee eater put on quite a show for us, diving for insects before coming back to the same perch.

Of course, all this bird activity and the marvellous trees meant that I malingered a lot.  Without my dear husband to hurry me along (he didn't make this trip), I was of course at the rear of the group.

Looking up at the blue skies, I was struck by how this is almost a forgotten memory.
Yes people, thats how blue the sky should be.  And no, there is no filter on this picture
and no colour correction.

Was this a Rosewood?  I could not get a confirmation.

A stately Benteak - "Naked mermaid of the forest" - with its peeling bark.

Running vertically down the hill was a  water pipe, and the thundering water was a direct reminder of the importance of these hills and forests to the freshwater requirements of the plains.

Suddenly, we emerged out of the shade and canopy of the forest, and we caught out first glimpses of the hilltops around.

The sunbathing grasses waved us on.

The path and the stunted trees

So this was how it looked at close quarters.  Those "bald" hills were not actually bald, but were grasslands.

The sun was up, and so were the butterflies.  Sailers, Fourrings I could identify, and the smaller grass blues and yellows.
But there were many others that I could not identify.

We reached the end of the gentle incline.  It ended in a super tall watch tower. The breeze was stiff, and we were told that those of of us who were interested  could do the last little bit to the summit, from where the views were even better.

Climbing the last bit.

It didn't seem a lot when we started.  The breeze was stiff and the sun not too harsh,
so off we went.  

There were several types of grasses - Alloteropsis, goose grass,  Supposedly 28 types of grasses are found here.  There were some with a purple hue, some that looked golden, and green of course.  I thought I smelt lemon grass, but I was too busy focussing on the path and making my way up to stop and take pictures.  Also, the wind was so strong, I felt quite vulnerable trying to walk up a path which seemed at 60 degrees!  Raju of course made his way up like a Nilgiri Tahr!

When we reached what we thought was the top, I realised that it was not really the top and there was another peak to be climbed.  I maybe should have returned at this point, as did many others, but Raju was very encouraging and seemed to indicate that it was not that much more!  Walkers who were returning also said the same thing, so on I went!  

We could see the islands of forests up close.  I assumed that this vegetation peculiarity was due to very thin soil cover, and the trees were growing where the water collected, but it seems that that is not as straightforward as that, and there is a more complicated reason for the forest-grassland formation,

Peak 1 and 2 done!  And now a gentle climb up 3 and 4!  I could not have made it without the helping and reassuring hand of Raju, who could probably walk up the path blindfolded, so many times has he done it.

It is the first time in my life that I have been higher than the surrounding hilltops.  I particularly liked this view of the single grassy bald peak amidst the forested ones.

Still further up.  There was elephant dung all the way up here.  My superego encouraged and reasoned that if the elephant could make its way up, so should I.  My id pointed out to me that the elephant has four feet.  Raju reasoned that I had come thus far, and it was not right that I give up.  So on I went  

The beautiful grasslands.  Up close you could see there were little shrubs, and many varieties of grass.  

Grasses are important.  Wheat, rice.... very important.  

More views

Looking down into Coorg, Karnataka

That's Thirunelly down there.  

1215, and this was the top of the Bramhagiri peak.

Elumalai soaking it in, the sun, the wind and the blue sky.  Butterflies rushed past our noses, swept away by the wind.  A black eagle did not seem in control of its flight.

One last look around before we descended, after a half hour stop.  Dhruva managed a phone call down to the others - BSNL of course!

Back under the trees, bruised toes and creaking knees, legs like jelly, the descent always more painful than the ascent!

We filled our bottles with the cool and fresh waters of the stream before heading down.  Sadly my 2 litre camelback came apart, and all that sweet and cold water went sloshing into the earth.

Raju hurried us down, no lingering he said, fearing that elephants were close.  We fell silent and for once the MNS lot were fast and disciplined and stayed together.

It was close to 3 when we trundled in to Thirunelly looking for some lunch.  Ambika Lunch Home was out of food, and we were saved by Anupama Lunch Home - Rice with sambar and mor kuzhambu keerai poriyal and papadam. Best lunch!  Topped with a nendram banana.

While our driver Iqbal steered us back to Sultan Batheri, I for one fell into an exhausted snooze.  It was past 6pm and dusk was falling.  A hot bath and dinner awaited.