Tigers in India

On Christmas Eve we got up way too early, not to see if we could see Santa Gupta, but rather so we could catch a 5:45 am flight from Pune to Nagpur. We had tigers in mind, and the best choice for us seemed to be Kanha National Park, a 5 hour drive northeast of Nagpur in the state of Madhya Pradesh. After nearly three months of cavalierly eating almost anything put in front of us, Peggy had finally succumbed to Maharajah’s Revenge, so her enthusiasm for the upcoming jungle forays was at a low ebb.

Our Nagpur-based driver was in a hurry and even the sight of one of the dangerous commission-based buses smashed into the railing of a bridge with a huge gash opened on its right hand side did very little to dim his ardor.

We reached the Wild Chalet Resort just in time for lunch, met Clifford the manager (and one of the few Christian Indians we’ve met on our entire trip) and Pramod, the naturalist who would act as our guide’s guide for the next three days.

The resort was not the world’s most up-to-date nor well-kept establishment. No TV, no Internet, no phones, intermittent power and no heat! If you’ve been following, you know that we’ve found India to be hot pretty much non-stop. But in a surprising development, Kanha was downright cold and the lack of any type of heater to keep our suite warm was a bit disconcerting. When I asked Clifford about the possibility of getting some heat in the place, he said “I’ll send hot water bottles”. And so that night we slept with localized heat sources tucked under our blankets while the temperature outside nose-dived to less than 40F.

Morning safaris leave the resort at 5:15 am, so we were not completely surprised when someone pounded on our door on Christmas morning at 4:30 am (remember, no phones). Cups of coffee and tea tried to warm us up, but by the time we took our seats in the open air jeep (actually a Suzuki brand mini-jeep), we were beginning to realize that we were in for a cold morning. We put on all the warm clothing we had, wrapped ourselves in the wool blankets draped on the jeep seats and took off for the first assembly point just outside the park.

The system at Kanha is not completely clear, and certainly not adhered to with any type of rigidity, but the scheme works something like this. You drive up to a gate that is actually 4 km outside the official entry gate to the park. Here you get in line, or try to butt in line, or hang around just outside the line hoping to improve on the lousy position you find yourself in because you were too lazy to get there early. Clients by and large stay wrapped in their blankets in the jeeps while the drivers go chew the fat around one of the many open fires burning alongside the road.

At 5:55 the drivers all sprint to their vehicles, making the area look like the starting paddock for a race at LeMans. The gate opens and the jostling starts as the jeep jockeys try to improve on their position or at the very least don’t regress too much. Even though honking is the national sport in India, and there was much of it going on even at 5:45 am, once inside the first gate, there is a strict no-honking rule which is surprisingly adhered to by every driver, each of whom has to be licensed and certified by some official agency.

Once actually through that first gate, not only does honking cease, but racing does as well…until you get to the second, official gate into the park proper. When you get to this second gate, you once again either get into one of the two official lines (which have different functions – prominently displayed on signage - but for all practical purposes are treated as though not a single driver can read) or you do whatever you want for no evident reason. Drivers once again congregate until 6:25 am when another LeMans start appears in the offing. As you approach the gate, rather than alternating with the other official lane, you rev your engine a lot and try to convince the other guy that you should be allowed to gain a few places for reasons not discernible to me. There are also jeeps approaching from the exit-only lane, once again apparently with perfectly legitimate reasons for violating all the rules.

After fighting for position yet again, the jeeps once more become more respectful of each other once inside the park. The ride to your first stop takes 30-50 very cold minutes, but the park is beautiful as it lightens with the rising sun.

On Christmas morning we were about the 40th vehicle into the park, early enough to risk a shot at that day’s tiger show. And just what is a tiger show you might be asking? Early every morning the mahouts drive their elephants into the forest trying to locate tigers that might be lolling about after a recent kill or sleeping after a recent tryst with a tiger of the opposite sex. The mahouts are usually successful, and when they do find a lazing tiger, they signal a bunch of other elephants to come and join the “show”. Then park visitors sign up for the show, get a priority number and when it’s your turn you climb aboard one of the elephants, bash into the jungle and view the tiger in a very up close and personal way for a few minutes. Then the elephant tramples back out to the road and boards another party to be ferried to the “tiger show”.

We got a low enough priority number to be able to witness a sleepy tigress lying on the ground after gorging on a kill from the previous day. The tiger show is a bit contrived, but the feeling of awe at being so close to my all-time favorite wild animal, in a truly natural state, was enough to make it one of my best Christmases ever.

The rest of the safari could have consisted of having my toenails pulled out with a dull pair of pliers and I still would have been in the most sublime state. But we actually got to see many more animals that morning, including gaur (Indian bison), a variety of deer and some very colorful birds.

I was walking on clouds through lunch, but that afternoon our main man, Pramod, showed us what a gem he is. Pramod is a naturalist who works for the “adventure” company that provides dedicated safari services to the Wild Chalet. Pramod is highly educated, well trained and an incredible talent, but due to the rules of Kanha National Park, every vehicle that passes through the front gate must hire an official, certified Kanha guide. There is an elaborate queuing system in play at the main gate (unfortunately sans computers) that is meant to give every registered guide an equal shot at a safari gig.

So we always had an official guide in our jeep, but his presence was mainly symbolic. Pramod, and our driver, Hira, a 20 year veteran driver in Kanha, pretty much decided where to go and always spotted wildlife and birds well before any of us tourists had any notion there were breathing varmints about.

But the most amazing talent exhibited by Pramod and Hira was their uncanny ability to listen to the jungle and figure out if a tiger was any where in the vicinity and, if so, where the heck s/he was. After stopping a number of times and listening intently, Hira and Pramod were sure there was a tiger nearby. Then, in an instant, they both simultaneously yelled “Alarm call!” and Hira gunned the jeep down the road a couple of hundred yards. We stopped and waited and Pramod said more than once “the tiger is coming.” The alarm call had been a sambar deer voicing a very throaty “awwk” sound that was meant to warn other sambars in the region that danger lurked. But the tigers in this case were not so much interested in eating as they were in mating. We heard a series of “ouwm” roars followed by perky “ouw” responses that Pramod assured us were perfect indicators of a male and female tiger essentially asking each other what their sign was.

15 minutes later, Pramod pointed vaguely into the jungle and said “there he is.” I looked and looked, sure that my only glimpse of this magnificent beast would be but a bit of yellow smudge hidden in the thicket. No matter how carefully Pramod tried to describe exactly where to look to find the beast, I really could not see him.

By this time the jungle vibes had permeated a good part of the park and there were probably 30 or more jeeps parked in close proximity, all clients straining to catch a glimpse of the lord of this jungle. Due to the incredible efforts of Pramod and Hira, we were in a better position than almost all of the other vehicles.

And so when the tiger rose up on his haunches, a shudder and expression of collective awe rose from the closest viewers. As nonchalant as a stoned hippy, the male tiger sauntered out from under cover and slowly strolled through the brush, mainly parallel to the road that was by now lined with gawkers. He stretched a few times, emitted a few muffled roars, then strode directly across the road, passing within 10 meters of the closest jeeps. He glanced begrudgingly at us a few times, then headed back into the woods. I assume he immediately tweeted to all his tiger buddies something like this: “Tourists in the palm of my paw! lol”

What a cool experience! Peggy and I had front row seats to this whole spectacle and it was one of the more memorable moments of my life. Sitting in front of a wood fire sipping wine later that evening made me realize that Christmas 2009 had been one for the record books.

Naturally, with such good luck on the first two safaris, I assumed that tiger viewing was guaranteed. A long day-after-Christmas with nary a trace of a tiger disabused this notion and made me realize just how fortunate we had been the day before.

Peggy’s internal distress had intensified over night, so I went on the cold morning safari with just a couple from Stuttgart, Germany to keep me company. If possible, the day after Christmas was even busier than Christmas itself. Even so, we had scored a pretty good position that morning at the first gate. That lucky break was totally undone at the second gate when our guide was nowhere to be seen when it was our turn to pass through the gate. It is strictly forbidden to enter the park without a certified guide, so Hira waited patiently, as we watched vehicle after vehicle leapfrog us into the park.

The morning was a bust. Not just for us, but for nearly everyone looking for tigers. Even the elephant mahouts had failed to locate any tigers that morning, and by the time we exited the park at noon, word was out that no one had seen tigers that morning.

When we struck out again on the afternoon safari, I began to realize just how fortunate we had been the day before when we had two exceptional tiger sightings. But the afternoon was not completely devoid of interest. At one point we spotted a large herd of spotted deer and I had an amusing exchange with Hira. Me: “Look, spotted deer.” Hira: “No, no, no! They’re spotted deer!” OK, so English is not as universal here as most Indians would have us believe.

On the way home I innocently asked how dangerous the big cats in the park really were. Pramod immediately shot back with this fact: in 2007 an assistant mahout, out wrangling elephants in the early morning hours, had been killed by a tiger. Furthermore, within just the last few weeks, a puppy at our very own resort had been nabbed, killed and eaten by a leopard. OK – I’m willing to believe these big, beautiful felines are as dangerous as legend has proscribed them to be.

The next morning Peggy was still under the weather, so I joined Lana and Kylie, two exuberant Kiwis who have traveled to more third world countries than even Mother Theresa, on the morning safari. Luck was with us. Pramod found us a great tiger sighting almost immediately. Then he directed us to a spot quite a ways down the road where he predicted the same tiger would appear again. When that happenstance was not forthcoming, he took us to another location that had no obvious connection to where we had seen the tiger almost an hour earlier, but I’ll be darned if the big boy didn’t show up right in front of us within 3 minutes.

I reveled in yet another close encounter with the coolest animal on the planet. I understand the economic pressures that cajole poor local hunters to poach these magnificent beasts, but I believe the tiger will prove to be the true test of humanity. If we can’t figure out a way to insure the viability of a creature as regal and precious as the tiger then I fear there is no future for mankind.

That night I got to try out the thesis of the book titled “The Wisdom of Crowds”. One of the English tourists was from Weymouth, but when I asked him how big the city was, he professed no knowledge whatsoever. So I proceeded to query all 7 English folks present, asking each to guess the population of Weymouth. After throwing out the guess by one of the English ladies who clearly was not willing to humor me, I got an average of 60,000, not that far off from the most official tally of 53,000.

On Monday morning we woke up to a s**t storm. I mean that pretty literally. A clan of langur monkeys had taken over the roof of our bungalow, and for some reason had decided to deposit a magnificent amount of monkey poop on our veranda.

We had to get back to Nagpur for our flight home, but we were able to eat lunch before heading out. The morning safari had been unsuccessful in tiger sightings, but I showed Pramod the tiger tattoo on my right shoulder and he got a considerable kick out of seeing it. I’ve always wanted to do something to help the tigers’ plight, so I asked Pramod what I should do. He said “Join the World Wildlife Fund. They are doing the most to try to help the tiger survive.” Being a longstanding member of WWF, I was heartened to hear his advice. In my only obvious plea to your sensibilities, I would ask that you consider supporting WWF and their tiger protection efforts as well. Please see http://www.worldwildlife.org/ for more information.

Our trip back to Nagpur was exciting. We were driven by a young, bold driver. I kept thinking of the old saying: “There are old pilots and there are bold pilots, but there are no old, bold pilots.” I was afraid our young, bold driver would prove that adage at our expense, but the fact that I am writing these words would seem to indicate that we made it back to Nagpur.

We did have a few humorous Indian standoff moments on the way back, though. Twice we had to stop at railroad crossing. Both times, on both sides of the tracks, vehicles filled all lanes, even the ones that purportedly were meant for those coming in the other direction. And so when the crossing barriers raised, there was full on pandemonium as all the smarties who thought they would make great time by driving in the wrong lane faced a huge wave of traffic heading directly at them. The fact that almost nobody benefited from this approach was obviously lost on the average Indian, as the same behavior was repeated at each rail crossing.

Our stay in India is rapidly drawing to a close. As you can imagine, we are crying our eyes out, so sad are we that we will be leaving this wonderful country. NOT!!!! Our thrall with being here is definitely on the wane. USA, here we come!

photos:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/26545681@N07/sets/72157623100904562/

tiger strolling through the jungle video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9M_qRkD9itE