The Loten's and the Gliricidia

March 4th 2023

Here I am, just returned from Kaziranga and Manas, and writing about Illalur and Madayathur.  Sekar looked disbelieving at my plan to go off on Saturday - weren't the wondrous and spectacular sightings of Assam sufficient - but I felt this tug to see and experience my backyards again, like re-connecting with the familiar, after a trip to the exotic!

And more than the birding, it was the company and the beautful spots - so close to home.  OK not so close, but closer than Assam for sure.

Illalur lake - the last time I was here, the lake was dry and we walked everywhere.

The morning was magical, with the clouds, the sun and the water, and a light mist as well.

This photo by Sagarika was one of several highlights of my morning.  The singing Loten in the flowering Gliricidia.

These beautiful stalks bloom between Feb and April, usually. Photo by Sagarika.

And this wonderful video by Umesh.  (Enjoy it in full screen.)

Some walking up and down the bund and disturbing various men from their morning peaceful open-air defecation later, we thought we saw Pratincoles fly overhead, and we did see blue-tailed bee-eaters swoop and settle on the Milkweed.  

Purple-rumped sunbirds were nesting - rather the female looked like she was dismantling and completely disapproving of the nest, while the male chirped and flew off quite seemingly quite hurt by this.

Sagarika spotted a White-eyed Buzzard on a pole fa-aaaar away, which was nice (yes, she showed all of us too), and then they all saw a Jerdon's Bushlark which I didn't because I guess I was busy and distracted by the little wildflowers on the lake bed.  

Possibly a Bladderwort.  

Dwarf Morning Glory

Some cute looking grasses

Around this time, Gayathree decided that she had to pick some Prickly Pears, and at the end of that she was, well, pricked.  The Cactus did not approve of her actions.

Some friendly FD guards who were on their rounds, stopped to have a chat, and Mr Prakash was happy to see us and the documentation would help towards the bird census of the lake.

He then took us to another lake that I had never been to - what an amazing discovery!

Madayathur lake - with this lone standing Thandri tree (Terminalia bellerica).  What an absolutely delightful surprise.  A large serene lake, with a RF on one side and the village and temple on the other.  

The tree was magnificent and awesome.

There were a few waders at the water's edge - a trio of little ringed plovers, a lone black-winged stilt and a couple of wood sandpipers.  I enjoyed watching the paddy field pipits and the wagtails scurry across the grass.

It was an ideal picnic spot, and we munched on an odd assortment of cake, sandwiches, black grapes and chips.  And believe it or not, Gayathree had a flask of chamomile tea....which I shall not comment upon.  Those who drank it were calmer and those who did not were happier.  

We all bundled in Gayathree's car to return back via Nemmeli, when we saw this temple procession.  From the Thiruporur Murugan temple.

The temple, as we moved away from it. Photo by Umesh

And at Gayathree's stomping grounds - the Nemmeli salt pans - we saw the water had receded, algae had formed, and the curlews were fewer in number.

Illalur lake list

Madayathur lake list

Nemmeli salt pans from the vehicle

As summer rears its head, the remaining winter visitors will leave sooner than later, and we will commune with the resident pelican and storks.

Safe travels, bon voyage and see you next winter, our feathered friends from far and near.
 

Assam Day 5 - First glimpses of Kaziranga

Heading towards Kazi again, yay! And i see that this has not even been posted.

15th January 2020

Continued from here.

Goodness, I am picking up the threads of January 2020, which I last wrote about in August of 2020....Let me see what I remember.

I remember my excitement on reaching the animal corridor.  

The flood plains of the Brahmaputra.  During the monsoon all these areas are under a sheet of water I believe.  The highway cuts through the highland.  It was some sight seeing the tall grasslands, with all the mammals, grazing, beds, and all.  What a magical treat - bar-headed geese flocks, elephants and rhinos, cheek by jowl,

and the monkey of course

...so close we could have shook hands....

..and he walked away disdainfully.

Dubori homestay in Kohora - a cozy little place with a lovely tropical garden - we were upstairs, nice little verandah that went all around.

 We met Gudung aka Pallab.  An interesting young man of the region.  He was to be our guide for Kaziranga.  He came by as the sun was going down, a smile on his face, unkempt hair and an inner beautiful enthusiasm that I see in so many naturalists.

A free evening - walked around on my own, just up the lane, soon it was dark.  A child on a tricycle, a severally handicapped adult and what looked like his caretaker mother in a verandah, baya weaver nests, red spikes, and quarrelling goats.  Hathikuli tea estate around the corner.

A little bonfire, and puppy dogs under the stove enjoying the warmth until one of the pieces of firewood exploded with a loud crack, sending the little fellow yelping to his mom, and then feeling sheepish and standing behind her and barking loudly!!

Dinner was a nice cosy affair, with the poor kitchen staff having to deal with the MNS way of eating - if you don’t set out all items on the dinner table together, then whatever is there will run out - so while the dal and veggie came first, these were done, when the rotis came, so there was this mad scurrying back and forth by them to keep it all together, and an equally brisk up and down by the MNS members.  Hot rotis moved faster than the rice, and MNS members moved the fastest!

There was just some cheerful banter, as we wound down for the evening.

Braiding Sweetgrass

 In my To-read list now - “Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants” - a book of essays by scientist and SUNY Professor Robin Wall Kimmerer.   The book has sold 1.4 million copies, according to the NY Times article - You Don’t Have to Be Complicit in Our Culture of Destruction.  An article that was shared by Dr Ravi Chellam on the MNS group.

Of late, I have been listening to arguments about science vs other modes of enquiry - and how not to slide into what I would call old-fashioned superstition and blind belief, while at the same time being open to older traditions of wisdom and learning. 

She says - "sometimes what we call conventional Western science is in fact scientism. Scientism being this notion that Western science is the only way to truth. It’s a powerful way to truth, but there are other ways, too. Traditional ecological knowledge, Indigenous science, is a more holistic way of knowing. In Western science, for often very good reasons, we separate our values and our knowledge. In Indigenous science, knowledge and values are always coupled. It’s an ethically driven science."

I came across a similare dialogue between Amitav Ghosh and Dr Annu Jalais at the Kolkata Literary Festival, '23, and since it was in the context of Sundarbans, it felt very relevant and immediate for me.  So tiger charmers, masks at the back of the head, vaccinations...and I must say I am more in line with Dr Annu in not dissing science.  

 

But the telling point that Amitav Ghosh makes about how all countries seem to be still in a colonial mindset of trying to control and consume, despite the glaring evidence of climate change, finds an echo in Prof Kimmerer's response as well, I felt.

 Q:  I see the success of your book as part of this mostly still hidden but actually huge, hopeful groundswell of people — and I mean regular people, not only activists or scientists — who are thinking deeply and taking action about caring for the earth. But that groundswell isn’t part of the story that we’re usually told about climate change, which tends to be much more about futility. What are the keys to communicating a sense of positivity about climate change and the future that’s counter to the narrative we usually get? 

Ans:  The story that we have to illuminate is that we don’t have to be complicit with destruction. That’s the assumption: that there are these powerful forces around us that we can’t possibly counteract. The refusal to be complicit can be a kind of resistance to dominant paradigms, but it’s also an opportunity to be creative and joyful and say, I can’t topple Monsanto, but I can plant an organic garden; I can’t counter fill-in-the-blank of environmental destruction, but I can create native landscaping that helps pollinators in the face of neonicotinoid pesticides. (Which research has suggested is especially harmful to wild bees and bumblebees.)

 So much of what we think about in environmentalism is finger-wagging and gloom-and-doom, but when you look at a lot of those examples where people are taking things into their hands, they’re joyful. That’s healing not only for land but for our culture as well — it feels good. It’s also good to feel your own agency. We need to feel that satisfaction that can replace the so-called satisfaction of buying something. Our attention has been hijacked by our economy, by marketers saying you should be paying attention to consumption, you should be paying attention to violence, political division. What if we were paying attention to the natural world? I’ve often had this fantasy that we should have Fox News, by which I mean news about foxes. What if we had storytelling mechanisms that said it is important that you know about the well-being of wildlife in your neighborhood? That that’s newsworthy? This beautiful gift of attention that we human beings have is being hijacked to pay attention to products and someone else’s political agenda. Whereas if we can reclaim our attention and pay attention to things that really matter, there a revolution starts.

Being creative and joyful in our interactions with the natural world - something I recall that Garima Bhatia and I spoke about when we met a couple of months ago, and that organisations like NCF and Palluyir Trust, and MNS also are doing.

Saltwater crocodiles - My Sundarban encounters with these deadly aquatic predators

On our recent visit to the Sundarbans, we saw several of these large crocodiles basking in the sun, including some baby ones.  I marvelled at these creatures - so still and yet so deadly.  Nice to see from a respectful distance, I thought, and much nicer seeing them like this than in the Crocodile Bank, all one on top of the other.  

This article from Roundglass Sustain describes it so well.  Names that are familiar to me now, and carry a meaning and memory - Sajnekhali sanctuary, Dobanki camp.

Saltwater Crocodile: Dragons of the Sundarbans Swamps

18 Aug 2022

By Radhika Raj

Basking in the sun, the saltwater crocodile is a study in stillness but once it enters the brackish waters of the Sundarbans, it is the top aquatic predator

When the diesel-powered engine of our rickety, wooden bhotbhoti boat revs up in the Sundarbans, its loud, hammering “bhot-bhot-BHOT” sound echoes through the silent mangrove forest. As we ride noisily along sea-green channels, a chital spots us from a distance and scurries into the mangrove thickets. A lesser adjutant stork on the sandy shores takes flight in alarm. But one creature remains unperturbed by our presence — the enormous saltwater crocodile (Crocodylus porosus).

Photo by Sekar of the first baby we spotted, that seemed to look at us with curiosity.

 

Quickly into the water when we got too close....

...bubbles and a snout.

This description from Radhika says it the best - "We spot our first one within a few hours of entering Sajnekhali Wildlife Sanctuary, a protected area within the Sundarbans Tiger Reserve. It’s a slow December (in our case January) morning and the tide is low. The waters have receded to reveal wet, glistening shores with spike-like pneumatophores jutting out of the sand. On an exposed bank, a large saltwater crocodile is sprawled — caked in mud, and still as a statue. Despite our motorboat’s ample warning, it doesn’t bat an eyelid. I observe its armour-like scaly skin, the bony ridges on its jagged back, and massive tail. With two rows of triangular spikes the tail is used to propel the creature out of the water. Its jaw is shut tight, but pointy yellow teeth jut out, making it look like it’s grinning, or perhaps, mocking us."

 “It’s smiling at you,” laughs Ramkrishna Mondal, my guide. We spot several more saltwater crocodiles — all suspiciously still.  (Our guides were  Prosun, Manoj Mondal and Bavutosh.)

The saltwater crocodile is a skilled aquatic predator. Its eyes are adapted to see underwater, and it has excellent night vision so the nocturnal reptile can hunt at night. The channels of the Sundarbans harbour a healthy population of the estuarine or saltwater crocodiles which thrive in this unique ecosystem.

The top aquatic predator

The saltwater crocodile is the largest and heaviest living reptile in the world. Males can grow up to 20 feet and weigh over 1,000 kg. The largest one recorded in India, in Bhitarkanika National Park, Odisha, was 22-feet long. Its skull is displayed in the national park’s museum. Anecdotal information places the largest known saltwater crocodile from India in the Sundarbans. In his book, The Last of the Ruling Reptiles: Alligators, Crocodiles, and Their Kin, WT Neill writes about a “Bengal Giant” — a saltwater crocodile he saw towards the end of British rule, which he claimed was at least 30-feet-long.

The species is distinguished from its cousins — gharials, muggers, caimans — by its high tolerance for salinity. Unlike other freshwater species, the saltwater crocodile thrives along brackish mangrove channels (though it is also known to inhabit freshwater habitats) and can swim far out to sea. In the Sundarbans, it is the top aquatic predator, beating serious contenders such as the river shark, king cobra, python and semi-aquatic Bengal tiger. Saltwater crocodiles are not picky eaters and will feed on anything they can get their jaws on — fish, birds, buffaloes, wild boar, rhesus macaques, deer, crabs, even snakes. In water, it can even overpower a swimming tiger. In 2011, an instance of a tiger killed by an estuarine crocodile was reported at Dobanki camp of Sundarbans Tiger Reserve. “Some forest officials who saw them fight claim that it was the most ferocious battle in the history of the park,” says Mondal. But these crocodiles don’t pick a fight unless absolutely necessary, he adds. They are ambush predators and mostly lie low. They often lurk on the river’s edges, with only nose and eyes, located atop the skull, above the surface. When an unsuspecting prey stops by, the crocodile explodes out of the water, grabs and snaps its neck, drags and drowns it, before eating it. Though a crocodile has strong jaws, it cannot chew well. Instead, it violently rotates its body in the water with the prey firmly in its mouth, dismembering it. The infamous “death roll” is now a popular television trope on sensational wildlife shows. About thirty minutes later, I see another saltwater crocodile basking by the exposed, umbrella-shaped stilt roots of a garjan — oblivious to the squeals and furious clicking from neighbouring tourist boats.

Creature of the tide

Later, over a phone call, expert wildlife biologist BC Choudhury explains why we saw so many crocodiles that day. Crocodiles are cold blooded reptiles that thermoregulate by sunning themselves. Adults need to maintain a stable body temperature in the preferred range of 30–32 degrees C. In the summers, crocodiles bask in the morning and evening — retreating to the water when the sun is sharp. But in winter, they bask from morning until the sun sets, warming their bodies as much as they can, Choudhury expands.

However, in a forest that is swallowed by tides twice a day, they wait for that ideal combination of low tide and great sunlight, and make the most of it. We had been lucky to catch them on such a perfect day. No wonder they were everywhere. “The life of a saltwater crocodile, and everything that lives in the Sundarbans, is ruled by the tide,” Choudhury reminds me. In 2012, he conducted the first and only survey on saltwater crocodiles in that habitat, with a schedule that depended heavily on the tides, and the tiger. It is impossible to travel through the Sundarbans after sunset, when a tiger may use the cover of the night to attack. The researchers identified that the mudflats are exposed for six hours a day in January, since that’s when the crocodiles spend the maximum time basking on the shores.

Of gods and myths

Back on the boat, a mighty saltwater crocodile has caught our attention. As we approach the panchmukhani mohona, a confluence of five channels, we see yet another one, basking on a sandbar. It’s the largest I’ve seen yet — a dominant male, says Mondal, easily 17-18 feet-long. “Meet Kalu Khan,” he says pointing at its left, front foot which is missing a toe. “It is so big, that local guides named it after the demi-god Kalu Rai. He lost his toe several years ago,” he adds.

Travelling through the Sundarbans I notice a deep, intertwined relationship that local cultures share with the wilderness. Mondal tells me how most fishermen and honey collectors who venture into the forest, pray to Kalu Rai, the crocodile god, to keep them safe from the crocodile. The forest is watched over by Bonbibi, a goddess they believe protects locals from the Sundarbans tigers that are known to kill humans who venture into protected areas. I remember seeing the shrine next to the Sanjnekhali Forest Office Complex, with a statue of Bonbibi mounting a tiger, and a small statue of Dukhe, a young child sitting on a saltwater crocodile. As we watch Kalu Khan, Mondal tells me Bonbibi’s story. During a ferocious battle, Bonbibi rescues a young child named Dukhe from the clutches of Dakkhin Rai, a demon in the form of a tiger. She then sends him home safely on the back of her pet crocodile, Seko. “Is Seko worshipped too?” I ask Mondal. “No, only feared. Apart from the tiger, the saltwater crocodile is also known to kill fishermen,” he says. “Remember, dang-bagh, jol-e kumir,” he adds. (Tiger on land, crocodile in water.)

Human-crocodile conflict

Few protected areas in the country seem to have the intense human-animal conflict evident in the Sundarbans. According to official figures, the Sundarbans tiger has claimed 12 lives in 2019 alone, but locals say the numbers are much higher. The lives claimed by the saltwater crocodile come a close second, followed by deaths by the river shark. According to data released by the forest department, between 1999 and 2009, at least 29 people were attacked by crocodiles. Studies reveal that most cases occurred in areas where tiger prawns are farmed, an occupation led by women and children. Women with saris tucked into their waists wade through water and pull nets on the edges of the rivers, and have fallen victim to crocodiles. Yet, human-crocodile conflict receives little attention from authorities compared to tiger attacks that make for big news. “We have a tiger-centric mindset. The saltwater crocodile remains in its shadow. Fewer conservation efforts focus on the wellbeing of this species, and little is done to mitigate human-crocodile conflict. Both humans and animals suffer,” says Choudhury.

********

As we glided through the waters in our boat, taking in the kingfishers and crocodiles and the beautiful mangroves, I pondered on how the crocodile is probably deadlier than the tiger now, for the people of Sundarbans, as I read that there are more croc deaths than tiger killings in the Sundarbans these days.  

About 35 crocodiles were released into these waters in '22, adding to the 55 in '21!  While these predators restore the ecological balance in the Sundarbans, I wondered if the people of the area were consulted/considered?  Asked to leave?  Provided alternate employments to prawn seed fishing?  There seem to be no easy answers.  On the one hand, is the poaching and habitat loss which caused their numbers to decline in the early 21st century, and on the other are the people of the region, among the poorest and most dispossessed in the country - who are now as good as tiger/crocodile food.  Caught between the tiger and the crocodile and trapped by poverty, there are untold stories of neglect in the Sundarbans.  It seems migration is the only answer?  Many deaths are unreported by the families themselves, as the members may have been involved in fishing or wood gathering that is not allowed, and is therefore illegal.

And then, crocs enter the village ponds too, it seems!

Studies have been done on incidence.  Human–crocodile conflict in the Indian Sundarban: an analysis of spatio-temporal incidences in relation to people's livelihood.

Can you see the tip of our boat in the foreground on the left?  I dont think we were meant to be so close.  Sanjiv found himself almost eyeballing this Saltie through his telephoto lens!

This is a most chilling and horrific recounting of a crocodile death from Dr Annu Jalais' book Forest of Tigers.

“Sweat and Blood: 

The Smell of Tiger Prawn

Once, while we were sitting on the bund with some women prawn seed collectors, Arati began telling me about how a young woman called Kalpana had met her death the previous year. Kalpana collected prawn seed to meet the needs of her small family. She went out each morning at the break of dawn with Arati, Shobita and Nonibala, her three friends, and pulled the net for four to five hours along the riverbanks of her village, Annpur. On the morning of her death she had pulled the net for three hours before being caught by a crocodile. As the crocodile caught her thigh and dragged her into the deeper waters of the river, Kalpana  screamed out in terror and started beating the animal with her net. Her three friends ran to help her. One of them jumped in after her, trying to retrieve her from the murky waters, while the others shouted for help. What follows is keeping as close to Nonibala’s narrative as possible. Kalpana’s frantic gesticulations, cries and loud splashes as she fought with the crocodile pierced through the heavy white mist. After what seemed a horrendously long time they were replaced by the cracking of her net or bones or both. Nonibala was standing there in frozen torpor and then she swooned. When she sat up and desperately scanned the river for signs of life all she saw were bubbles and ripples disappearing into the stilling beige-brown surface of the river. She then noticed the trail of a slowly dulling bright red moving away from her while a soft cloying wetness, the limp end of a sari, washed itself around her legs. It felt as if a sudden soundless shard stabbed her through the heart, leaving her immobilised and speechless, as she realised her friend had been dragged away to the river’s depths by a crocodile. 

The islanders of Annpur came rushing to the riverbank immediately. The news spread fast. This was the fourth person in the locale to meet her death through these water monsters. Some other women had survived losing a limb to sharks. In fear, and to respect the dead woman’s memory, the collectors stopped work the following days.”

Excerpt From Forest of Tigers: People, Politics and Environment in the Sundarbans 

Sundarbans - first learnings

 As we head off for a few days to Sundarbans, the land of the shifting islands, I was happy to get a primer to these lands via the MNS talk by Dr Annu Jalais.

 

Dr Annu Jalais - grew up in the Sundarbans - is at Krea University and gave a wonderful snapshot to the sociology of the region.  

Of course everyone since has said, Oh you should read Amitav Ghosh's Hungry Tide..which I have not...and have since added to the reading list.

All the images are below are screenshots from her talk for my reference.

Tides, cyclones, today waves...all make the lower forest islands rather treacherous as far as human habitation goes.

Muskippers and mangroves, aerial roots and shifting sands.

Local legend - the salt water makes the tigers of Sundarbans rather grumpy and ill tempered.

There are three types of charms - the tickling one, the sleepy one, ad the one which removes hunger.  When the islanders get off the island, the charmer has to remove the spell, and free the tiger.  

The relationship to non-humans was something on a different paradigm from my urban thinking.

I am reading Forest of Tigers that is available as a free download here.  I learnt about the Hamilton of Hamilton Islands - and his cooperative social equality experiments, Gosaba, Satjelia, Canning, the bidyadari river, and how one was traveling Up or Down.

More learnings await.