The young naturalists of MNS

Chennai’s environment enthusiasts form a new online network - The Hindu





The city-based Young Naturalists Network forms an intriguing mix of community-building, knowledge sharing and career plans



Meghna Majumdar

“You would think that most people in Chennai are aware of the Madras Bird Race, but not many people really know about it, or about the Madras Naturalists Society, especially in our age group,” says 17-year-old Mahathi Narayanaswamy, a student from Chennai. And yet, she adds, there are many in the age group of 13 to 25 who are interested in all things Nature, and are actively documenting species and gaining and spreading knowledge in their own ways.



But most of them are working out of their own prerogative, without the guidance, public platform or even confidence boost that established naturalists societies can provide. Mahathi’s solution for this disconnect is Young Naturalists Network.



Set up in June, this is an initiative that connects Nature enthusiasts to like-minded people, and to bigger initiatives in the city. “Students who are a part of this know how to reach out to their friends better than others (seasoned experts) who have never met these children earlier,” explains Mahathi, adding that only after founding the network did she realise that many of her friends shared these interests.



Founder Mahathi Narayanaswamy

As of now, Young Naturalists Network is 30-member strong. “Vikas Madhav is the Chennai coordinator for butterfly-related events. He is also a reviewer for eBird (a leading birding portal) and Butterflies Of India. Vikas Madhav and Rohith Srinivasan amongst few others have recorded nearly 90 identified species in Adyar Poonga. Melvin Jaison has documented birds from Mittanamalli Wetland in 2016-2018 and has documented nearly 110 species. Many have volunteered for several outreach, awareness and education programs. Many have been part of several surveys, censuses and studies. Some have interned with several organisations like the Wildlife Conservation Society — India, Ashoka Trust For Research In Ecology And The Environment and Sálim Ali Centre for Ornithology and Natural History, for instance to study smooth-coated otters and leopards,” reels off Mahathi, who herself has documented over 160 species of moths at IIT-Madras, and is confident of doing at least 100 more.



So what do proactive minds like these do, when they get together? They expand their circle, and spread interest in intensive, patient, factual study of the world around them. So far, the society has been active with Instagram quizzes, sharing of their members’ observations about different species on Instagram, celebration of things like National Moth Week, and even a full-fledged e-magazine put together by members, most of whom are still in school or college.



Chennai’s environment enthusiasts form a new online network

Mission Career



The magazine is rich with creature profiles, backyard observations and even scientific papers (reproduced with permission), but a key segment is an interview of a field expert.



The maiden edition, released this week, featured chiropterologist Rohit Chakravarti, followed with a detailed profile of a leading institution that offers a course in the study of bats. Editor Vikas Madhav says this is a deliberate pairing, “We want to talk to someone who has made a career out of studying Nature, and also give our readers an idea of how they can pursue it.” Rohit’s interview, thus, has details not only of his work, but also of how he got started along this career path.



“Parents typically consider this to be a field which does not have too many opportunities, and are reluctant to let their children explore it. But when you see 30 people doing it and looking successful, parents might be a bit more open to it,” says Mahathi.



Mahathi’s original plans for the network included plenty of treks and explorations, but for now the young naturalists have to be content with reading and studying backyard creatures. Judging by the content they are putting out, this limitation is hardly a limitation at all.

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

Kaziranga in the monsoon

https://epaper.thehindu.com/Home/ShareArticle?OrgId=GHF7JOSQT.1&imageview=0

A booster diet stirs Kaziranga’s flood-hit ‘road rhino’

GUWAHATI
All rhinos have poor eyesight. Some, like the one that has made a highway beside the Kaziranga National Park and Tiger Reserve (KNPTR) its temporary home, have even poorer vision.

The male rhino, about 30 years old, was thought to be ill or injured when he swam laboriously out of the flooded KNPTR, hauled himself onto the highway and lay on the asphalt on the evening of July 17. Barring the twitching of the ears, he was motionless as vehicles whizzed past.

He has refused to budge three days later, earning the ‘road rhino’ moniker. But he has been venturing out a few feet on either side of the highway after some doses of sweetened multivitamin were given in bundles of grass and antibiotic eye drop sprayed from a high-pressure water gun.

The rhino had emerged from the Bagori Range of the 1,055 sq km KNPTR that has a core area of 430 sq km and more than 55% of the world’s population of the one-horned herbivore.

Security cordon

“Our men threw a security cordon around the rhino. From experience, we knew the rhino was really tired after swimming for hours in search of dry land, but we sought the help of veterinarians nonetheless,” said P. Sivakumar, KNPTR director.

A team of veterinarians led by Shamsul Ali of the Centre for Wildlife Rehabilitation and Conservation (CWRC) nearby began observing the animal. The “crisis situation” prompted Kushal Konwar Sarma, head of College of Veterinary Science, to rush from Guwahati, 200 km away.

“We were prepared to take the rhino to the zoo in Guwahati, but he was in good health other than suffering from partial vision. We could sense he was not confident enough to swim back probably because of uncertainty in figuring out what lies ahead although he has been venturing further from the road with the water level receding,” Dr. Sarma said.

Dr. Ali said his team embedded multivitamin pills in jaggery wrapped in bundles of grass and threw them from a distance. As the animal lay on the road on Saturday, they sprayed the eye drop mixed in saline water from five metres.

“Rhinos have blurred vision and tend to attack based on smell and hearing. We had an animal too weak to react and with corneal opacity in the left eye and conjunctivitis in the right,” he told The Hindu on Sunday. Rathin Barman, who heads the CWRC, said the rhino was expected to melt into the forest soon.

Losing our biodiversity, systematically and greedily

Lessons from Baghjan: India’s Environmental Regulatory Processes Are Broken

M.D. Madhusudan and Prerna Singh Bindra

In the floodplain of the Brahmaputra, hemmed by its tributaries Dangori and Dibru, a stone’s throw from the Dibru Saikhowa National Park and the Maguri Motapung beel, is the village of Baghjan in Assam’s Tinsukia district. On May 27, an oil well belonging to Oil India Limited (OIL) blew out in this small village, uncontrollably spewing a mix of oil and gas, shrouding homes, farms, ponds, lake and river alike in a toxic condensate for nearly a full fortnight. Oil sheathed the wetland, seeped into soil; vile condensates coated grasslands and trees, slowly choking all life. Birds began dying, as did fish and frogs. A burnt carcass of a young Gangetic dolphin – our endangered national aquatic animal – floated up on the murky waters.

Then, on June 9, a fire started at the blowout site, and soon, nearby grasslands, fields, orchards, homes and even waterbodies were on fire. Two persons, Durlov Gogoi and Tikeshwar Gohain, died in the fire while four more were injured. Grasslands, even wetlands, burnt, and in these fires, countless creatures perished.

This ill-fated oil well is just one among many in the region belonging to OIL, a public-sector company owned by the Government of India.

As with every such catastrophe, we must ask if this was not foreseeable or preventable. Contemplating this question takes us back to September 2013, when we were serving on the National Board for Wildlife (NBWL). A statutory body created under the Wildlife (Protection) Act, the NBWL is chaired by the prime minister, and delegates its functions to a smaller standing committee comprising a selection of members and chaired by the environment minister. It is tasked with regulating human activities carried out in the pursuit of development or economic growth, which can pose risks to wildlife and their habitat in or around nearly 700 protected areas that cover about 5% of India.

Given its precarious location – cheek-by-jowl to a national park, a large waterbody and two rivers, besides scores of homesteads – the Baghjan oil well is precisely the kind of project the NBWL is mandated to regulate.

This now-infamous oil well was already in operation well before our tenure on the NBWL, between 2010 and 2013. We were however involved in inspecting the area around Baghjan in 2013 to assess the risks of laying a crude oil pipeline from this well via Makum to a gathering station in Madhuban, some 40 km south. As per a Supreme Court order, all projects proposed within a 10-km ecologically sensitive zone (ESZ) around protected areas (PAs) require a clearance from the NBWL, in addition to all other required regulatory permissions, unless the PA had an already demarcated ESZ. The latter had not been done in this case.

Although it lay within the Dibru Saikhowa National Park’s ESZ, OIL’s pipeline had been granted clearance by the NBWL in 2012, on the plea that most of the pipeline would run within tea estates and other non-forest lands where OIL had purchased right-of-way. This was opposed by local citizens and NGOs, who pointed out that the pipeline would actually pass through the sensitive wetland ecosystem of Maguri Motapung beel located within Dibru Saikhowa’s ESZ, and on which local fishermen and many unique species depended. They also recalled widespread local opposition to the pipeline’s alignment during public hearings for grant of the project’s environmental clearance and asked the NBWL to review its decision. Subsequently, the clearance was withheld, and as members of the standing committee, we were asked to undertake a site-inspection and file a report.

The Dibru Saikhowa landscape simply took our breath away. A mosaic of wetlands, swamp forests and grasslands, it is home to endangered fauna such as clouded leopards, Chinese pangolins, slow lorises, pig-tailed macaques, Bengal floricans, hoolock gibbons and Asian elephants, among others. Dibru Saikhowa is one of the last haunts of the deo hans, or ‘spirit duck’, as the critically endangered white-winged wood duck is known here, and a stronghold of the black-breasted parrotbill, one of India’s rarest birds. In its waterways that encompass a myriad wetlands like the Maguri Motapung beel, there are over 300 bird species and 80 species of fish, including the ‘tiger of the river’, the endangered golden mahseer.

What we uncovered during our site inspection shocked us. Although OIL had approached the NBWL ostensibly seeking permission to lay their crude oil pipeline, they had already completed most of the pipeline-laying work, leaving only a small unfinished stretch across the Dibru river and Maguri beel. We were horrified that a public sector corporation of the Government of India had blatantly flouted the country’s environmental regulations.

What was worse was that at no point when the NBWL was considering this project, nor during our field inspection when we were seeing the installed pipeline, did OIL disclose this violation, let alone attempt to put it right. Even when specifically questioned, OIL reiterated that the construction had been done only after the initial 2012 NBWL recommendation. However, a letter by the district forest officer to the district collector, both of Tinsukia, written three years prior to our site inspection recorded how OIL had laid their Baghjan-Makum pipeline without obtaining environmental clearance, and effectively in violation of the law.

Here was our quandary: how does one either allow or disallow the laying of a pipeline that had mostly already been laid years before the permission for it was being sought? Unfortunately, the NBWL and other regulatory bodies are routinely presented with such fait accompli. Often, large sums of money – sometimes running into thousands of crores – are already sunk into a project without all regulatory approvals being in place, and used to put undue and unfair pressure on regulatory committees like ours.

For instance, we had before us the example of the 800-MW Koldam hydroelectric project that would submerge 125 hectares of Himachal Pradesh’s Majathal Wildlife Sanctuary, which came to the committee for approval when over half of the construction was done and over Rs 2,100 crore already spent. The NBWL denied permission, but undeterred, construction continued and the proponents came back to the table for clearance, this time with over 80% of the project complete. Our rejection – the decision of a statutory body under the Union government – clearly was of little relevance or consequence.

In the report we filed about the crude-oil pipeline to the NBWL, we documented and highlighted foremost the violation by OIL. We urged the NBWL to inform the Supreme Court of the trend of absurd fait accompli situations, where the NBWL was being tasked to consider projects that had commenced work without receiving permissions, and to direct states to prevent such lapses.

Given the fait accompli presented to us, how were we to approach the present case? Our strong instinct was to simply refuse permission, and for good reason. The mandate of the NBWL is, above all, to safeguard and conserve wildlife, and this area, with its unique mosaic of habitats that hosted rare and endemic wildlife, faced significant threats from oil pipelines criss-crossing it. Besides, we were also concerned for the livelihoods of the people, directly or indirectly dependent on the beel, and mindful of their continued efforts to protect this landscape.

But most of the work on the Baghjan-Makum pipeline had already been completed, albeit in violation, and the public exchequer had underwritten this huge expense. Therefore, we strived for balance. First, we urged the NBWL that OIL be asked to work with the management of Dibru Saikhowa to develop a long-term and detailed conservation plan for the park, and to fund it. Only on the presentation of such a plan to the NBWL, we said, could they be permitted to complete the last stretch of pipeline through the fragile Maguri beel.

Significantly, we recorded our apprehension of serious ecological and human risk in the event of leakage/spillage from the pipeline, and sought that OIL be required to publicly disclose their environmental safeguards as well as declare the nature and extent of their liability in the event of accidents. Finally, we recommended that the work be undertaken by OIL under the supervision of a committee that included local community members and environmental organisations.

However, no meeting of the standing committee was called after the submission of our report in late 2013. In its next meeting on August 14-15, 2014, a new NBWL constituted by the newly-elected government summarily cleared – among 133 other proposals – the pipeline project of OIL, recording in its minutes that “as the site inspection team had recommended the [OIL] proposals, the Standing Committee decided to recommend the proposal.”

Neither our documentation of OIL’s violations, nor a single one of the caveats and conditions we had urged seemed to have been considered. Effectively, OIL not only got away with barefaced violation but also seemed to receive validation via the unquestioning clearance granted.

Our experience with the OIL pipeline is a classic and all-too-common case of environmental misgovernance. As we saw repeatedly, ‘conditions’ stipulated in various environmental clearances are not worth the paper they are written on, their enforcement or compliance being extremely rare, and audits being virtually non-existent.

Looking back now, we deeply regret and are ashamed that we allowed OIL’s status as a public sector company to matter, instead of regarding them more narrowly in light of their track record of environmental violations. Our decision to conditionally recommend OIL’s project was not intended to condone their violation, but attempted to take into account the vast amounts of public money that would go waste, and in the knowledge that an already laid pipeline would almost certainly not be dismantled. So our report tried to reconcile the country’s need for fuel while also imposing essential environmental safeguards, and compelling OIL to become a stakeholder in the conservation of ecological values in their neighbourhood.

In hindsight, we might have laughed at our naivety – were it not for the massive ecological devastation currently taking place, leaving us horrified and regretful.

Here we were, trying to be mindful of the public money spent, but failing to adequately defend the real wealth – of myriad ecosystems, their biodiversity, the wildlife it nurtured and the people it sustained – that was at stake here. This wealth is both priceless and perpetual, and its loss utterly irrevocable.

Environmentalists are often seen as taking extreme positions, as unreasonably opposed to projects that are purported to have great economic potential. But these extreme positions are almost invariably a result of experiences like ours, where reasonable middle ground as well as essential safeguards are entirely disregarded, paving the way for disasters like Baghjan.

The blowout clearly shows why the government’s new plan to allow “a self-regulation mechanism” of environmental safeguards for industry is a cruel joke, and is likely to lead to more such disasters.

There is worse to come. OIL has recently been granted environment clearance to drill in seven locations inside Dibru Saikhowa National Park. Such clearances, which aid environmental destruction rather than avert it, undermine the very spirit of environmental regulation. And if we, as a people, do not speak up against such state-led disdain for the rule of law, our silence will fuel many more fires, far more destructive than the one that burned Baghjan.

M.D. Madhusudan has worked on ecological research and wildlife conservation projects for nearly three decades, and has served on the National Board for Wildlife and the Karnataka State Board for Wildlife. He co-founded the Nature Conservation Foundation and worked there for 23 years.

Prerna Singh Bindra has worked in wildlife conservation for about two decades focusing on protection of wildlife habitats, policy and communication. She has served on the National Board for Wildlife and Uttarakhand’s State Board for Wildlife.  She is a widely published author and her books include The Vanishing: India’s Wildlife Crisis.

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