POSTCARD FROM NAGARHOLE
Jungle adventure
KALYANI AND ASHOK CANDADE
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No tiger in sight. Never mind. There was much else to see.
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PHOTO: M.A. SRIRAM
A Wild time: So much to learn in Nagarhole.
"DON'T SEE A TIGER... " was my teenage daughter's parting shot. We were going into a forest without her for the first time in 18 years. Nagarhole has always been special to us, and I wondered which of her secrets the sanctuary would reveal to us this time.
Healthy population
Only a week earlier, we had heard tiger conservationist, Ullas Karanth, lucidly explain the connection between prey species and predator species, and that Nagarhole had one of the healthiest populations of both. Now, as the van took off, the tall teak trees orange gold in the fading sun, we kept our eyes peeled for our first sighting of wildlife.
We didn't have to wait long. Even as the van turned sharply around a water hole, three cow elephants moved closer to a little calf, shielding the youngster as cameras whirred and clicked. In no time at all the light faded into that twilight zone where thhe human eye saw what cameras couldn't, and it was wildlife time in earnest. A pair of majestic sambar looked curiously at us, and then melted into the shadows. Down the track, a herd of gaur grazed — massive bulls, a few cows and several calves.
Good sighting for a first ride. And suddenly a bonus; gambolling on the track in front of us was a pair of stripe-necked mongoose! Certainly a healthy prey population of deer and gaur, I thought, as van driver Basappa pointed out a crossing where a tigress had been sighted recently. Would we see one of the predators tomorrow?
Jumbo rescue
It was a rain-washed morning, all silver and grey after the thunderstorm of the night. We were in the van by dawn, full of anticipation. The ground was wet, though, and large parts of the track might not be navigable, we were warned. At Doddahalla, the sanctuary's picturesque large waterhole, the driver studied the ground thoughtfully, then decided to risk the track. Within seconds, we felt the wheel slipping under us, and there we were, in the middle of the jungle at dawn, mired in slush! Jungle Adventure
"It'll take 20 men to lift this out", muttered my husband after several heroic rescue attempts failed. Suddenly, our driver brightened. "Of course! I'll get the elephant!" he grinned, and spoke into his walkie-talkie. Our jaws dropped. This was getting more and more exciting.
Soon Gajendra ambled up with his chain in his trunk, mildly curious and eager to please. The chain was fastened around the mudguard of the van, and Gajendra pulled. Not enough elephant power! This time the chain was tied around his neck, and work began in earnest. The van lurched forward, and sank deeper in the slime. Wrong direction! At the mahout's reprimand, Gajendra trumpeted in anguish. What do you want me to do? he seemed to ask. Pull that-a-way, the mahout indicated. Flanks heaving, straining to get it right, Gajendra pulled once more — and suddenly the van was out, rolling along behind the gentle giant as he trundled down the track, elated with his success! We cheered heartily, thanked Gajendra and his mahout and headed back, feeling privileged and humbled.
Veteran warrior
Our adventure delayed us for our next encounter, with another veteran of the forest services, K.M. Chinappa. After 20-odd years of fiercely guarding the Nagarhole jungles as Range Forest Officer, Chinappa, now retired and living next to his beloved sanctuary, does what he can to protect it from the outside, through conservation education.
The couple of hours we spent with him were eye-opening and enriching, and we were touched by his dedication and knowledge of practically every tree and termite mound in his erstwhile range. He also spoke of the work being done by Wildlife First, the conservation organisation he heads; the urgent need to relocate several human settlements from deep inside the jungle, and the vast sums of money it required. Chinappa gave us Nagarhole up close, and it was an intimacy that delighted as well as disturbed.
As I prepared to leave the next morning, I ran into Basappa. "We saw a tiger last night!" he said. "Crossed the road right outside the office!"
A pang of envy. And then, suddenly, it didn't matter so much. We had seen so much else.
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