Day 3 - The golden langurs of Kakoijana

40 degree days are upon us in Chennai, and the midday air is like a furnace.  Whatever I touch is hot, the bed, clothes, drinking water.  Every year I go through this, and every year it's like I don't remember it!

The COVID positives are continuing to rise, in Chennai, in TN and in large parts of India, and daily wage earners are continuing to move in their hundreds back to the Hindi heartland and the north east. In the middle of this cyclone Amphan has struck as well.

13th January 2020

Continued from here

We were given a choice for today -  to go look for the Bengal Florican at the Kolkilabarii grasslands, or go in search of the Golden Langurs at the Kakoijana Reserve Forest.  Everyone wanted to see the langurs, and so we chose the Kakoijana RF and the golden langurs over the florican.  What a day it turned out to be and what an exhilarating, sad and humbling experience.

630 am and we were out - Aparna, Venkatesh, Devika and me in one car.  We watched the sunrise, as we crossed Nalbari - the power line pillars appearing like giant sentinels all the way to the horizon, watching over harvested fields.

We went through a sleepy Barpeta Road.  I had an earnest conversation with the driver asking him, yes the road is Barpeta Road, but what is the name of the place.  Barpeta Road he said!  Finally exasperated at my persistence he pointed to the station as we passed it - Barpeta Road!!  

Driving past characteristic Asamese home with little ponds, bamboo fences,

and electric autos everywhere.

Crossing the river (Manas? or was it Aiee?), the mist over the water, so beautiful and peaceful was the scenery outside.

20 kms later, we arrived at a little village called Khorapara, where we met our local guide Sanjeev. This was the Rajabonghi village.  We were in a narrow lane with homes on either side and at the end of the lane were fields and some low hills in the distance.  

Those low hills were where we were going to walk - the last little area for the golden langurs, saved from “development” and habitat fragmentation by Sanjeev and his ilk.

Sanjeev took us into his house.  We saw his mother and children, getting ready for Bihu, pounding rice.  Another young man was working on bamboo - and more about that later

We walked into the field for a picnic breakfast.  It was lovely - the sun was mild and warming, the air was crisp and fresh, and somehow all seemed well with the world.  We made our own butter and jam sandwiches - some of our members wandered to take a picture of an owl in an old tree.

And then we set off to climb the hill ahead.  We crossed the fallow fields, using makeshift bamboo poles as bridges across water nullahs, cows mooed and looked inquisitively at us.  Quite different from the indifferent and emotionless cows of Madras I thought.

We meandered along in true MNS style, examining every ber tree and bamboo tree, looking at every drongo and butterfly - the only ones moving with urgency were Pranjal and Yuvan.  Pranjal and Yuvan, two young men from different parts of the country, united in their love and passion for the environment and the natural world.  By day two itself there was such a bond between them, they were inseparable - they travelled in the same jeep, and drove each other to more discoveries, exchange of information, and on the road trips, even music lists were shared.

We reached the hills and began our ascent,  Sanjeev quickly assessed that at the pace we were making we would take all day to reach the top of the hill - and the more we delayed the further upwards the langurs would go, he said.  A few phone calls were made, and much Assamese exchanged, and then he announced that a troop of langurs had come into the bamboo groves at the foothills on the other side, so we should hurry around to that village!  So the message was relayed up and down the group, and we made haste (well not really) back to the vehicles!

Anything to distract us - raptor! someone called and all eyes to the sky.  Panjal and Yuvan debated as to what it was, until this picture from Quick Gun Sudar settled the debate as Black Eagle.  It circled above us for a while, its wing "fingers" moving this way and that to change directions, it was a great sight in the blue sky.

 On the walk back, we saw a cottage sector making of rubber sheets, some lovely little streams, and then we were bundled into the cars as we sped  from the Rajavanshi village to the Garo village Sidkagaon around the hill.  Along the way, I was horrified at an ugly scar that went up one hill face - dynamiting for stone.

We reached another beautiful little Asaamese house, and we walked silently though their prayer space, backyard and into a bamboo grove.

Sonali bandar

Sanjeev signalled us to tread softly and keep our voices down.  I craned my neck to look up but really could not see them!  Excited voices, much finger pointing, come here, look there - and then I did see them.  A smallish troop/family, resting up in the canopy - and resting seems to include some random sex on the part of the male, with the female not even paying notice it seemed!

How golden they were!  Better than any champion pedigree dogs with brushed and shampooed fur!  Seeing them was exhilarating and amazing and I was just so wonderstruck, even if I was catching just glimpses, as they moved about in the thick canopy of what looked like a Ficus tree to me.  And never mind I was getting a very bad crick in my neck, and was in danger of having something nasty fall into my mouth as I gaped open-mouthed.  And yet, how sad I felt to see how fragile was their existence.  The Golden Langur (Trachypithecus geei) is found only in Assam and some parts of Bhutan.  These langurs are most endangered, and they are threatened by habitat loss, being mainly arboreal, and needing contiguous forest.

A wonderful shot by Elumalai, of this magnificent primate - feeds on many different kinds of vegetation, though bamboo is a favourite I think.  

It is these villagers living around this small bit of RF that are working towards protecting them - a humbling, grateful feeling - Kaojiana is one of the few success stories of conservation, all hanging by a precarious thread of cooperation.

There are 34 villages around Kakojiana, and they have somehow banded together to help these beautiful primates.  Sanjeev was from the Rajabonshis village, and we had moved to the Garo village.  We were told there were Bodo, Santhal, Bengali, Nepali and Rapha villages also around the hills of Kakojiana.

On returning to Chennai, I looked up the area in Google Maps, and you see this little bunch of hills, surrounded by these villages.  And one side now, mining seems to have started now - a very bad idea indeed.  Janaki Lenin writes about the conservation effort at Kakojiana.  

Find the Rat Snake in the picture - looks like it had just fed, or was snoozing as it moved not an inch!

After seeing an Asamese rat snake up on the tree, we wandered back through the Garo house into the vehicles and drove back to Sanjeev’s house and that village.

The courtyard

The cat also used the "bridge" across the water channel.  

Bamboos being readied for fence poles which i
converted into a vase!

There we were shown the shrub on which the silk worms are cultivated to make the famous Muga silk. Sanjeev showed us the dried husk of the cocoon. His wife Malathi (she called the shots) gave us tea and some homemade sweets made from rice flour, jiggery and sesame seeds. It was delicious. We were visiting at the time of Magh Bihu the harvest festival of Assam. And this was the traditional sweet of the festival.

 One was hard like a nut, but as soon as you put it in your mouth, it would begin dissolving!  Needless to say, I had several!

And as Shuba, Bhuvanya and Aparna examined the handwoven bedsheets and gamusas, that Malathi showed a few of us were busy in the backyard, looking at the sunbirds, drones and this beauty - the white-throated fantail (Rhipidura albicollis).  It would sit on the bamboo fence, twitching its tail, occasionally opening it, calling now and then, but always busy and on the move.  It seemed impossible to get a good shot.  Sudar succeeded, while I looked at it through my binoculars.  The last time I had seen and heard this was in Melghat.  

There would be a Bihu bonfire in the night a few days later, and this was being readied - an aeroplane of straw, for a good bang and drama.

It was 2:30 in the afternoon by the time we returned to a Bihu lunch at the Florican.  Paneer in til gravy, (the black stuff, very yummy), mustard brinjal on the left, the Assam lime can be seen.  And then there was payasam as well!

We were to leave Florican the next morning, and tt was a free evening, and we all wandered around, up and down the road, to the riverfront and to the gate.

I watched the injured rhino for a while, happy to wander on my own.  Others were also spread across the road, watching different things.  

The rhino continued steadily to feed, and one would think nothing was wrong with it, but its body was covered here and there with cuts and lacerations.  Its back was covered with bird droppings, a testament to the countless egrets and mynahs it has given  ride to, as they sit and watch for ticks and such like.

This photo by Sudar shows the myna, picking the maggots from the wound, in a sense keeping the wound clean, but at the same time maybe not allowing the wound to heal by the constant pecking?

Seeing the rear was a ghastly site, as this where the full extent of its injuries were seen. A large gaping wound.  I wondered if it would survive this wounding.  

Netra and Nayatntar joined the stroll, and we were surprised by this impromptu peacock display, forth down closer to the gate.  As we watched, it attracted a whole bunch of villagers who were heading home from the Bihu carnival on the river.  Mothers lifted their children up, to get a better look over the heads of others, and I realised that how many ever times you see it, this dance is a show stopper.

We returned to hot tea and pakodas that evening, and we looked forward to meeting the office bearers of MEWS - Manas Ever Welfare Society.  As Aparna noted in her trip report for MNS,

"This NGO was started by a group of local youth with the aim of preserving the Manas sanctuary. They recounted how they convinced the local people about preserving the pristine nature of the sanctuary. They encouraged responsible tourism. They encouraged the local people to develop other indigenous skills like weaving and pig rearing to reduce their dependence on the forest. They have succeeded in getting some Bodo villages to continue with their traditional occupation of pig rearing. The Bodo people have found it to be viable alternative and their dependence on the forest has reduced drastically. They also helped Manas sanctuary to become poaching free. The rhino at Manas were relcoated from Kaziranga and is one of the rhino conservation success stories. In the process the other animals like bison, water buffalo, elephants, wild boar, birds, insects, the trees and the grass have also got protection. As people learned the value of keeping the sanctuary in its unspoilt state Manas was able to retain its status as a UNESCO world heritage site. The MEWS members were all self taught and had learned to identify birds from books given to them by guests. It was clear that they were very proud of their sanctuary."

The MEWS office bearers speaking with us.  Florican is run by them, and was even initially built by them

It was an interesting and heartening interaction, and I learnt so much about inclusion of local people in conservation solutions - after all, the bio-fencing with lime and the raising of pigs were a very local solution.  Boundaries near the settlements were being solar fenced as well.

I wished they would involve the women in the forefront too and in their committees, after all women like Malathi seemed more than capable of being part of the solution.

The MEWS were a mixed bunch - adivasis, Garos and Bodos as well. Outsiders cannot hold property in this area run by the Bodos.  As I listened to how loopholes in the rule of only locals being allowed to own land in the area were being found, I hoped that egos and self interest would not drive this group apart. Already big investments in hospitality were coming into the area via the locals.  

And so we went to bed that night, doing some packing as we were leaving the next morning.  Stuffing all the several layers of warm clothe could only happen in the morning.

January 14th -  goodbye Manas

It was to be a departure after breakfast, so I woke up early walk down to the river and have my final views of the Beki river and the Bhutan hills.  It was a lovely morning.

Good bye rhino, I hope you recovered.

I followed a Pied mynah, from pillar to post, as it flew energetically.  A rhino wandered and looked beautiful in the early morning light, as did the river.


In the distance to my left (downstream) was a sandbank in the middle of the river filled with tents and pandals - the site of the Bihu festivities around here - but really in the middle of the river?

I hope Sekar and I can come back here again, and the place is as beautiful as ever.

What would I do different?  I would explore using this as an entry to Bhutan and the Royal Manas Park  as well.

On to Orang!

Manas Day 2 - afternoon excursion to Bhudapara

January 12th 2020

3pm - after the 3 L's, we were off agains - Lunch, Lemons and Loo!

I was a free radical on this trip, so I would seat myself in any jeep, with any group, in a most random fashion.  I think on the afternoon ride I was with Kumar Sr (not cousin), Mr Shankarnarayan, and Devika in the front.  Devika preferred to occupy the seat next to the driver, as this meant less strain to her toe, while getting in and out.

Getting in and out was probably the only exercise we got!  Afternoon rides were not cold when we left, but would get super chill as we returned.

Just as we enter the main arch, the peacock and jungle fowl agglomeration is to the left, and to the right, is this curious looking glass-fronted display room, with what looked like a boat inside.  Day 1 I did not pay much attention, as eyes were glued to the birding action on the other side.

Now I had become blasé about those beautiful fowls, pea and jungle, and turned my attention to this, as we were parked and waiting for our entry formalities to be done.

Turns out, it was one of the boats used by Sir Edmund Hillary on his Ocean to Sky expedition in 1977.  Fancy that!  The expedition made use of 7 boats with powerful V8 engines, and at the end of it, the boats were donated to wildlife parks, and one boat named Air India, landed up at Manas.  So initially, it was used in the waterways and on the river, and then when the motor conked (such things do happen of course), it went in to disuse, and then someone decided to institutionalise it in 2014.  What an interesting story!

Why did the pheasant cross the road?

We found Mr and Mrs Kalij suddenly to the right of the track a little ahead of our jeep.  These birds of course are painfully shy and we sat still with engine off, to observe them.  

And then to the left was another male peeping out.  So it looked like mister on the left wanted to cross over to the pair on the right.  It took some tentative steps, 

and then quickly scuttled across in front of the jeep.  

Mr Left kept a wary eye on us all through.  Handsome chap he was.  And a much better glimpse than when I saw them in Bhutan way up n the hillside.

Suresh captured him in full strut!  The Kalij pheasant (Lophura leucomelanos) seems to have many sub-species across the Himalayas, the Western Himalayas ones have a white crest.  Ours was an all black.  But look at the sheen in the feathers!

And then Pranjal in the jeep ahead of us called out to look at the Collared Falconets!  Falconet are kutty falcons - piglet, owlet, in the same naming rationale I suppose - they are not very common and hence his excitement.  Of course another lifer.  and they were sitting facing opposite directions.  The rust is on the chest and the black is on the back.  And they have shrike-like beaks and even that band across the eyes.  We took a good look at them through the binoculars, with the evening sun falling on them.

A beauty by the wayside

The light was fast fading, but it was doing beautiful things - like lighting up this Bombax which was resplendent with flower.  Somehow, this picture doesn't quite capture the gorgeous red of the flowers, as they caught the sun and glowed.  

A little further down, and this tree was filled with Starlings.  All those little dots are birds!

The Lesser Adjutants did not seem to appreciate all this, and sat around morosely, each looking in a different direction.  A rather anthropocentric view I admit, for all you know they are the happiest and most contented bunch of birds!  

Fading light or not, the forest was alive.  

A tree full of female plum-headed parakeets

An elephant suddenly emerged from the grass and crossed over.  Our driver and guide was a little wary of him, keeping a safe distance and waiting until it was well into the forest on the other side.

And then a strange ghostly sight of a one-horned buffalo!

Sunset sights

Up the sarfuli watchtower, for another magical sundown this time with a herd of elephants.

- a matriarch, keeping her herd in line, 

she seemed to signal something to the younger elephants around and they all slowly began moving in to the forest, away from the clearing.  

some last minute jousting between the young ones

I reluctantly came down from the watchtower, it was time to leave.  There is something magical, powerful, wise and humbling about elephant herds.

As soon as the sun goes down, the cold rises.  It was not yet 6pm when we got back to Florican, but it was chill already.  Tea and pakodas awaited.   Ohh how welcome was that hot, steaming cup of tea!

But the excitement was not over.  there was a huge commotion outside the gates.  Grunting and scuffling.  Nayantara cam running back excitedly saying that there was a rhino fight underway.  The forest guards were calling excitedly, torches were shone this way and that - there was clanking of tins, as they tried to separate the two rhinos.

We were told to come in and the gates were closed - not that those gates would keep a rhino with intent out!

It was only next morning that we saw the damage.  The rhino's  side had been completely ripped.

Warming by the fire, I needed to leave my shoes there to dry as well - wondering what was the appropriate distance to leave them...too close and would the melt/burn/go up in flames, too far and they would still be cold and wet in the morning.  I went with too close.  (And they survived)

This Photo by Sudar - a good way to end the day. 

Manas Day 2 - the morning belonged to the river Beki

And so the lockdown in TN and Chennai goes on until May 31st.  Covid numbers rise, out-of-state workers continue to struggle to get home, as everyone tries to help, but it's just not enough.

Time to continue to write, and catch up with my photos and pictures, and relive those memories.

January 12th 2020

Continued from here.

The day was full of action, and the morning was all about the river Beki, the tributary of the Manas, both of which originate in Bhutan and flow in to the Bramhaputra.

6am - It must have been some 9degrees or less in the morning, oh it was freeeeezing, even with gloves and thermals and jacket and what not.  The tip of my nose was the only part of my face that was exposed, and it was beginning to drip, with the cold.  (Oh this was pre-COVID times, dripping noses didn't terrify us.)  Jungles are always colder than an urban area in the same geographical zone, and this was no exception. But the cold couldn't dampen the good old Madrasi spirit,

Looking back now, and the masks across our faces seems quite normal in today's world.

The Bhutan hills were a hint and a shadow to the north as we drove in to the central Basbari range, past the peacocks and jungle fowl.

The tyres of the jeep crunched over the gravel, sounding louder in the still, quiet morning air.  Even the birds were not up and about as yet, it seemed.  

The beautiful morning light, off the trees, was indescribable - the way it lit the forest, and brought to life different hues and shades of green and brown.  The taller Bombax trees, the mid-sized Elephant apple and the lower grasses and shrubs.

I enjoyed watching the leaves turn almost golden with the sun, and the grand trees and buttress roots.

Elephant Apple trees - Dillenia Indica, were everywhere, young and mature.  Some were in pod.

Leaf art by insects

We set off together with the idea of reaching the rafting point at Mathan Guri for breakfast.  Along the way though, our jeep seemed to have moved apart from the others.  So there was just two jeeps and we went to a watch tower, and there was no sign of the others.  Much Assamese on the phone, but things were not much clearer to us. 

Kumar, Usha and me in one jeep, and Pritam and Shuba with Pranjal, were in the other.  Pritam was unusually sangfroid in the face of this confusion - it was difficult to be otherwise amidst all this natural beauty!  As we wandered, we saw -

the camp elephants among the grasses,

little streams by the side of the track,

spreading green canopies above, 

and even a pair of black storks.

Silk cotton trees were ablaze with flowers.  What a sight they were.  

Fairy bluebirds, Spangled drongoes and Bombax trees full of chestnut-tailed starlings.  

Finally after much beautiful meandering, we arrived at Mathanguri.  This is the point where there used to be a forest guest house (Not so long ago - 2017) and visitors would stay. Upper and Lower Mathanguri bungalows - they were was now in ruins. It was unclear as to why they had been neglected like this, and there was a new guest house coming up!

 Clear blue waters, with smooth river-worn stones. It seems that they have strengthened the banks, with stones piled up more than seemed natural.  

We breakfasted on boiled eggs, bread and bananas by the riverside, and it reminded me of a similar breakfast we had in Bhutan on another riverside!

As we breakfasted, we enjoyed watching the White wagtail, flit and wag tail as well.  This is the Himalayan sub-species Motacilla alba alboides which is more black on the back, for a white wagtail! Photo by Sudar

The white-capped redstart or white-capped water redstart (Phoenicurus leucocephalus) I last saw in Bhutan was also around, flashes of rust as it darted low across the water.  Photos by Sudar

The river lapwing (Vanellus duvaucelii) stood still and morosely.  After a while, tiring of our attention, it took off with a high-pitched pip pip pip, quite dissimilar to the RW lapwing call.  Photo by Sudar

Across, on the other bank was Bhutan!  I learnt that the village of Panbang in Bhutan is just a couple of hours away, and supposedly you can go there with an Indian passport.  Information for next time.  

We ladies managed to use the dilapidated and dark loos.  Me of course distressed by the level of garbage on the river bank - why oh why cannot we keep anything properly, I wondered and fretted.  I asked the forest guards as to why dustbins could not be provided, and could there not be better garbage disposal.  He promised that next time I visited it would be all spruced up.  Hmm, did that mean more concrete and cement?

Downstream on a rubber raft

Photo by Venkatesh

Rafting on the river or not?  Take camera or not?  Shoes or not?  Are we going to get wet?  Things were not very clear to me and I had a hundred questions, and to be on the safe side, (Sekar’s in-absentia cautions kicking in) I left the camera behind, but took the phone, and wore shoes (stupidity) - even though I had taken a pair of rubber chappals in my bag.

Clambered down to the waterfront, rubber dinghies - got into one, with Aparna, Venkatesh, Bhuvanya and Sudar.  and suddenly, I was filled with anxiety.  Whaaaat?  This did not look very stable, it would definitely topple, was the river calm?  What would happen to my phone?  Bizarre - solo travelling made me into a different animal - usually I leave all this kind of responsibility and worry on Sekar’s shoulders and am quite bindaas and carefree - what was this new me?  I put my phone into a ziplock and put it into Bhuvanya’s bag.  Sudar had his mighty “gun” camera and didnt seem in the least bothered.  Bhuvanya was laughing cheerfully and chattering away.  And then we were off.  Venkatesh calmly recounted stories of falling into the river on some other trip. (How timely!)  OK he made up by demonstrating the technique of wedging heel into the gap between the side and the bottom of the raft and holding on to the rope - “if you go overboard, hang on to the boat.  Thank you very much.

The river was so gorgeously beautiful, that how could one be worried - I soon forgot and was enchanted.  Soon I heard a growing murmur, like a waterfall, and my apprehension was back- what was that?  Are we going around it?  No, through it!  Oh just some gentle rapids I'm sure, said Venkatesh complacently.  Huh, what??? Oh no oh no, I don’t want to get wet, I should’ve also stayed back with Suresh, who did not come for the river ride.  Venkatesh saying hold on now - its just a gentle rapid.  Now that is an oxymoron I thought to myself, if ever there was one, gentle rapid?!  No one else bothered - Aparna and Bhuvanya continued to chatter, what about I do not remember.  Our rafters knew exactly what to do and expertly steered our raft through, and I heaved a sigh of relief.  OK Rapid 101 then.

Phew!  And then I relaxed. never mind shoes were completely soaked by now.  And I began to look around.

A startled Common Merganser took off in a hurry, and I caught a flash of white feathers and red beak before it was gone. I could still count it among my first lifer for the day!   As usual. I was always looking at the wrong place at the right time.  Thankfully Sudar did not have my affliction!  Photo by Sudar

These Small Pratincoles were swooping around as they hunted for insects - they were at a distance, and Sudar's zoom helped bring them closer. Photo by Sudar

The shoreline was a jumble of debris from upriver I guess, and reminders of a river in spate.  Venkatesh spied the Pied Kingfisher on a fallen log, keeping company with a cormorant.  It was absolutely delightful to see not a single scrap of plastic or rubbish.

If Sudar had been a cowboy, he would have been the quickest draw in town.  He captured a picture of this smooth-coated river otter, which was into the river in the blink of an eye.  I saw its snout in the water - I told you, wrong place, right time! The otter is battling habitat loss, and listed as Vulnerable  It was good to see them swimming in the clear waters of the Beki.

 Photo by Venkatesh just after the otter got in the water! Missed it by a whisker   Cool and clear waters that I ran my fingers through, so clear I could see the river bed stones.  We encountered more rapids - which I rather enjoyed now. 

The majestic Pallas Eagle pair - they swooped, glided and fished as we drifted downstream and stared at us from the shore.  Photo by Venkatesh

The large Ruddy Shelducks were seen in pairs, and if our raft went too close, they would take off with an indignant honking call.  These birds form long lasting pairs, and they generally hang around with their mates.  Handsome birds.  Photo by Venkatesh

The Wild buffaloes ....it was good to have the river between us, their body language full of menace.  Photo by Mr Shankarnarayan

After about 2-3 km, when I could have gone on for much longer, we came to the point where we had to alight.  By this time, I was ready to do it all over again, even though the sun was right overhead.

We had come down from the rear flowing river.  This water in the foreground seemed like a backwash.  Further downstream, the Bihu mela was on in full swing - in the middle of the river!!

Bombax thorns up close. Shimolu in local language

It was one o clock, and time for lunch! Florican was a 100m away.  To the left is the Manas sanctuary periphery and where we would see rhinos hanging around.

Afternoon at the Bhudapara range in the next post