Of Damp fur & Dripping feathers

It's been awhile since I traveled the blogger's trial, and inspiration always comes from my favourite pilgrimage spot - the jungles; or so I thought.



When dark clouds gather, it speaks of impending downpour and we all go in search of a little sunshine. Call it mid-life crisis or cross roads of life, it demands a little space for yourself and some time to ruminate on the events of life alone. A pilgrimage was due and I was going to take it.


Some three days of unexpected rain with no sight of blue sky overhead I thought the jungles would bring some sunshine into my gloomy days so I packed my bags and fueled up my car to hole up in Bandipur. Just to be sure, I called up my old friend Gangaswamy. He was on safari in the jungle but his assistant assured me that there was no speck in the sky that foretold any rain. Phew! What a relief, I thought, as I dumped my bags into the boot of my car and started off.

The first inkling that things were not going to be all that sunny came as I crossed Satyamangalam and started climbing the Dimbam ghats. The grey clouds, it seemed, was stuck to the bumper of my car and following me as I drove uphill. 150 kilometers and there was no let up in the rain.



I stopped, as I always do, at "MONKEY CROSSING" but none of my old friends, bonnet macaques, were around to greet me. I popped out to take a quick pic and started off apprehensively.


Farther up the road I found them sitting on the parapet wall, huddled together miserably in the cold. The young ones clinging onto their mothers for warmth and the adults, perhaps praying for a ray of sunshine. The usual enthusiasm they display when a vehicle slowed was absent, so I guess they had been getting drenched for hours.



250 kilometers; Gundlupet behind me and less than 10 kilometers separating my from an old hide out, the rain was still following me. As I turned into the resort on the edge of Bandipur National Park my old friend Gangaswamy was in his office. "What sir, you always seem to have the rain following you?" , he greeted me. It was not meant to be a chide but it pricked.

























The overcast sky reflected my mood. I knew this trip would be a wash out. I felt like that wet vulture just then. All predators would be holed up and a deserted kill from which he could forage for scarps would be delayed till the rain let up!!

Why the vulture was looking so miserable is another story.

Off season in Bandipur

If you are a genuine lover of wildlife there really is no 'off-season'.

Wildlife need food and water to survive and they migrate to areas that offer them sufficient quantities of both.

Bandipur in March, April & May can be disappointing if you go only to see the tiger, elephant and gaur. The first is a rarity even if the season is right, you know that royalty has passed when you see their pugmarks overlaid on the dusty jeep track. I

It can even be more disappointing when you realize that while you spent a good twenty minutes waiting for that elephant to cross the road, this regal cat had a just come to the water hole a few hundred yards ahead, drank its fill and gone back into the shrub to lie up, perhaps beside its kill. We could hear it cough intermittently just about ten or twenty meters beside the road, in the thick lantana.



This is for the uninitiated. There are, if you know the secrets of the wilderness like my four year old, many other things that make the drive in the jungle interesting. He spotted a pair of striped neck mongoose foraging beside a waterhole.





A little further up the road he hissed, "Serpent eagle" and sure enough there was one on a low branch surveying us with its beady eyes. The driver was impressed.


Others followed; a changable hawk eagle, a graceful peacock, a hoopoe and many more that my son will soon learn to identify better than me.

Gangaswamy - version 2.07

An old boss of mine used to say that nothing was constant but change. It's inevitable.

I've known Gangaswamy for a few years now and I have a mental picture that had hardly changed in about half a dozen years. Suddenly, in 2007, I sense that the inevitable is taking place.

He has been an ebullient character. You hear him before you see him and it had been like that from the first time we encountered him in K Gudi, and then later at Bhadra. This time it was different. He's been shunted to Bandipur now and he seemed unusually subdued.

He always had something to tell you; about the jungle , the wildlife, his subordinates, the resort and anything under the sun. He was irrepressible when he had had a bit of some 'mood elevators' inside.

So when I found him draped on a chair with the earphones plugged in place and listening to music it was unusual. Out of courtesy he switched off the music and offered me a seat. "The season is dull, Sir. This Cauvery issue is not good for the tourist industry." I had been warned about agitating farmers blocking roads and stoning vehicles but the route I chose seemed to have no trouble makers. He was lamenting that fact that his resort that boasted 60% occupancy even on weekdays did not have 50% even on the weekend. I clucked in agreement but did not volunteer to add to the conversation.

"You know about the routine here. I needn't tell you anything", he seemed almost regretful. "Even the wildlife seem to share the mood , Sir" , he added. "There has hardly been any sighting for some time now".

I wasn't expecting anything significant. I had made this trip to appease my son. Summer was building and most waterholes were already dry. The grass was dry and prone to catching fire quickly. The big two, gaur and elephants, were migrating to Nagarhole rather than risk hanging around. The Kabini reservoir would see the largest assembly of the Asian elephants on it's banks in summer.


As a matter of fact we had just encountered a large bull gaur feeding beside the highway on our way to Bandipur. He was too engrossed in the leaves he was munching to be bothered by the traffic passing by.

We were prepared for a disappointing trip but in the end it wasn't all that bad. More of that later.

Dung ball heros - a beetle battle

Dung beetles come in two varieties, the hard working types and lazy bums. Hard working beetles locate their target by a strong sense of smell. Once located, they pull off chunks of the mess and roll it into balls, a job usually done by the male watched by his partner. Ball is then rolled straight off to a desirable location by the amorous couple who then use it as food cum breeding chamber.



















Once in a while a lazy bum lies in ambush, especially while the female is not around. The male intent on rolling the ball in a straight line despite any obstacles. The bum tries to take advantage of this obsession and some times succeeds but often has to be content with a small chunk of the ball.

I'm a dung beetle & that mess is my food!

Strolling around in a scrub jungle has certain advantages, and disadvantages. It puts you close to the action and gives a grandstand view of the happenings in the undergrowth. Of course, it also makes you a tempting target for thorn's, bugs and leeches. In the preoccupation to avoid the latter we may miss some interesting things closer to the ground.


The dung beetle maybe an uninteresting creature and to many of us the porcine equivalent of the insect world because of it's habits. Let me assure you, a closer look will halt you in your tracks. It is an enterprising creature and will fight to keep its mess ..... Er! I mean it's prize.



Dung beetles are classified into rollers, (the one in the picture) tunnelers & dwellers. Rollers simply roll the dung into balls and roll them off to the to use as food or a brood chamber. The tunnelers bury the dung where the find it and the dweller s simply live in dung (Yuck!)

Part - 1: Warming Up

I knew I was not made for hard-core trekking but I knew I could manage without giving up if the start was perfect. For someone who has only walked on flat tarmac scrambling over loose rock in search of some prehistoric (?!) rock painting and burial sites was a new experience.

My trekking guide was Muthuswamy, a Veerappan look alike but without the trade mark whiskers. He told me the site was half a kilometer over a gentle slope and would take an 'easy' fifteen minutes to reach.



As we started climbing Muthuswamy realizsed quickly that his assessment of 'easy' was rather misplaced in my case. "Ukkaranuma Saar?" (Do you want to sit, Sir?), he queried, looking very concerned. He must have thought I was having a heart attack the way I was gasping. I reassured him and quickly started snapping pictures. My ego did not permit me to accept defeat. If I sat, he would know. Despite protests from my knees I resolutely kept pace. I was determined to see this to the end.








Finally, when I reached the spot I was soaking. Aching joints & twitching muscles are all forgotten as soak in the view. The experience is incomparable, well worth breaking into sweat and panting for. Then, after the momentary sense of light headedness the exhilaration takes over.

Discovering my feet...... literally

We all have two legs with the feet attached at one end. We are never conscious of them except when they hurt. They take us from point A to point B without ever letting us know that we are putting out entire weight on them. That is, when we walk on familiar ground.



When we are forced out of our environment we become acutely conscious of them because our surrounding dictate our reactions. For city slickers it can become an unpleasant surprise if we are not too careful with them, like yours truly discovered over the weekend.


Of course, the experience of 'discovering my feet' was exhilarating. It took me over hills, down into the valley, through the scrub, along the river and back to my car without ever protesting at the ill treatment it got. Confined to a heavy boot and soaking in sweat would not have been what their idea of a wilderness holiday but at the end of the day we congratulated each other and decided to do it more frequently.

Prologue - Woodcrawling along 'Little River'

A middle aged man with a generous middle is not the ideal profile for a trekker but the temptation was too great. So, with a prayer on my lips I have set forth on what appears to be a long journey of discovery.

I have never trekked before. Most wildlife parks do not allow people to saunter around and disturb the jungle folk but there are exceptions. On the Udumalpet - Munnar road, straddling the Tamil Nadu - Kerala border lies a patch of wilderness that is just being discovered. The Chinnar (literally translated - 'little river') wildlife sanctuary on the Kerala side of the border is contiguous with the Indira Gandhi WLS in Tamil Nadu. The check post used to be closed after 6 PM earlier but now it's kept open all through due to the heavy tourist traffic. The road used to be famous for encounters with elephants and gaur grazing beside it.


My interest was the result of what was a wasted trip. We had driven to Munnar on a weekend to try to get a glimpse of the elusive Kurinji. We did not know that disappointment was in store as the heavy traffic caused a jam on the road and an endless que at the entrance to the Eravikulam NP. We had time to kill but nowhere to go and as we drove downhill we looked more closely at the signboards put up by the Kerala Forest Department.


We had, earlier, stopped for breakfast while going uphill. Then we had seen a herd of gaur on the ridge across road also having their breakfast. So when we halted at the check post we made enquiries about forest entry. Vehicle weren't permitted but you were free to foot it, we were told, and the guard directed us eco-tourism center next door.

The trekking is organised by the Forest Department with the active involment of the local tribal community. The center issues the entry passes and allots a tribal guide who accomapines you into the forest with only a stick for protection! It didn't seem a good idea at that time but therin lies the tale of how I discovered my feet.

BR Hills - A tale of a Tyre

BRT rarely disappoints visitors but then every once in a while an occasion comes along that you wont forget in a hurry.

Monday, 4th September 2006; 6.40 PM. It had been raining and the atmosphere was heavy. The animals had gone deeper and none were in the mood to grant an audience. My fourth visit to BRT was proving to be a damp squib literally.

Chital were there in numbers but even the usually plentiful gaur gave only guest appearances. As for the elephants, they had all left to Mysore for the Dussera festival or so Sudeesh and Nagesh felt! The light had already faded at 5.00 PM and I packed my camera fearing the weather. We had all drifting into a disappointed silence at the trick BRT had played with us.

The jeep was climbing up the slope past the turnoff to Annekere when we were jolted out of our reverie by a loud pop, almost like an air rifle had gone off. We had a puncture. Suddenly we were all awake. 6.40 PM was not an ideal time for a puncture, especially on an incline in a jungle famous for its gaurs, elephants and sloth bears. Mercifully, the rain god was not in a punishing mood.

We had to get off the vehicle in the dark so that the tyre could be changed and suddenly the idea of encountering an elephant or sloth bear became very unwelcome. The rustling of bushes along the track became unusually louder, and that barking deer calling from somewhere in the bush seemed to be sending us a message. It had become totally dark and it made the shadows play tricks on the mind.

Those ten minutes it took Nagesh to change the tyre were endless. There was a four year old, a five year old, and a wisecracking teen who wanted to know just then what snakes were there in BRT. We did not know the resort staff planned to screen a Nat Geo special on Rom Whittaker and King cobras for us after the safari!!

Why I carried a flashlight and a head light on that particular trip I don’t know but they came in handy. I had never ever carried a flashlight on a safari before.

BRT did not disappoint. It just showed us a different face of the jungle.

KGudi - Gaur's own country

Nestled on the slopes of the Biligirirangan hills of Chamarajanagar, Karnataka is a little known destination for ardent wildlifers. It is not for nothing that this 540 square kilometer sanctuary is called the "Gaur's own country". Formerly the hunting preserve of the erstwhile rulers of Mysore, it is one of Karnataka's best kept secrets.




Located at an altitude of 1700 metres the sanctuary is at the bifurcation of the Western & Eastern Ghats. This unique location gives it the benefit of a salubrious climate. The tempratures averaging between 35 to 15 degrees. It is home to over 25 species of mammals nad 240 species of birds making it a paradise for wildlifers.
















The sanctuary can be accessed either from Chamrajnagar (28kms) or Yellandur (20 kms) depending on where you are coming from. The K Gudi Wilderness Camp is located next to the check post on top of the ghat road from Chamrajnagar.