It has been a long since I even tried writing a new post for this blog. Living in Germany and lack of contact with my favourite landscapes left me blank in the head, and I couldn't think of a good topic to write about.
I haven't really made many trips to the wild after my return. I was first trying to get back into a normal routine of work and setting up home. That was barely in place, when I was shuttling between Bangalore and Pune, preparing for a Bharatnatyam stage event Smarati Mano Mamah, in memory of my classical dance teacher. The event was a grand success, and the charity Prerana received a considerable sum of Rs 10 lakh (100,000) as donation as a result of the event.
Post the event I slowly was able to make little visits to the most exciting places in the world, and I also treated myself to a visit to Ranthambore in Rajasthan, which I loved. Yes it was a tourist hub, with jeeps bumping into each other and honking in the presence of a tiger, just so all the guests in every jeep would catch a glimpse of the royal animal. However, I loved the landscape, I loved the blend of jungle with historic ruins - the whole feeling of being in that jungle was simply magical. A stop over on the way back in Jaipur only added to the fun, and I returned to Bangalore with a suitcase full of fabulous stuff that I bought in Jaipur.
Keeping a blog active about the forest isn't easy - not that that there aren't things to write about. Perhaps there are too many thoughts, that it gets difficult to find the right flow and bring it all together. In the meantime, though, I read a beautiful story written by Leela Broome (Mrs B) - "Flute in the Forest". The story took me back to why I got addicted to nature and wildlife in the first place. Mrs B's Nature Trails, held in their farm in Pune, was a magical camp exposing kids to the right attitude to nature. After attending two of her camps as a 12-year-old, the campus of NCL colony transformed from a big playground with plenty of space to run around, to a fantastic ecosystem with with all kinds of birds, insects and snakes around. If only one would take the time to notice.
I learnt to recognise a few snakes (the common venomous ones and a few others that one could see easily) and most birds that I'd see around our home. Holidays and weekends meant an early morning game of basketball, followed by a few hours of sitting around the front porch or backyard, bird book in hand, observing all the birds of the area go about their day. The Drongo chicks on the Neem tree learnt to fly as I was watching them. The Babul tree outside the front gate had several nests of plum headed parakeets, and they'd keep flying back to the tree to feed their chicks, screeching away to announce their presence. A silly Bulbul decided to nest and lay its eggs precariously on the top of a cupboard door, those eggs were doomed, and hopefully the Bulbul learnt a lesson after that. The rat snake from the trench nearby was a regular visitor to the house, knocking on the glass panes of the front door, in case the door wasn't open. I spent an entire afternoon watching a game of hide and seek between the rat snake and a bunch of squirrels on the Neem tree right outside the kitchen window.
Once in a while, we spent the weekend trekking in the hills around the city. I'd be really upset if there was a trek I couldn't participate in, and would wait anxiously for the trekkers to return. I'd be eager to know what they had seen, and was most excited to find out that they had spotted a Shieldtail, or Vultures around a buffalo carcass. On hearing this, I was often disappointed that I missed out on a special sighting.
The fast paced, high pressure trend of modern wildlife tourism has diluted the real joy of being in nature. You could meet hundreds of regular wildlife tourists today, and by regular I mean at least 4 trips to a jungle every year, and still not find a single person who could identify a serpent eagle. In most probability, 50% of these tourists would carelessly toss a plastic bag into the forest, once they are done with the chips inside it. Perhaps 70% of these would feed the monkeys on the roadside. All smokers would light up their cigarette while in the forest, in spite of the highly publicised news articles about raging forest fires all over South India.
Conversations at the end of a safari are predictable. In fact, one could create a little questionnaire for wildlife tourists and save the trouble of introductions:
1. What did you see in the safari?
a) Tiger
b) Nothing (terrible luck)
(Answer this question only if the answer to 1 was a)
2. How many?
a) One (normal luck)
b) Two-Four (good luck)
c) More than four (excellent luck)
Today's well educated, high salaried, SLR wielding wildlife tourist has encouraged very irresponsible tourism all over the country. This results in naturalists who think avian species are a waste of time, drivers who honk and shout in the middle of the forest, forest guards who'd accept a couple of green notes in return for a drive through the jungle in the night and resort operators who'd like to convert the waterhole into a boating attraction.
I got rid of my SLR and picked up a little pocket camera, for I had no wish to be associated any longer with the wildlife photographer that seems to infest every pocket of forest space. I make a trip to the forest with a bird book in one hand and my lovely German binoculars in the other. Every visit leaves me content thanks to the crystal clear sighting I've had of a Flameback making its way up a tree trunk, or a Sambhar cautiously approaching a waterhole, taking every precaution to make sure there was no predator waiting to pounce on it. Every movement, every behaviour pattern leaves me filled with the ways of the jungle, and I consider myself lucky that I have learnt how to observe and enjoy this.
I haven't really made many trips to the wild after my return. I was first trying to get back into a normal routine of work and setting up home. That was barely in place, when I was shuttling between Bangalore and Pune, preparing for a Bharatnatyam stage event Smarati Mano Mamah, in memory of my classical dance teacher. The event was a grand success, and the charity Prerana received a considerable sum of Rs 10 lakh (100,000) as donation as a result of the event.
Post the event I slowly was able to make little visits to the most exciting places in the world, and I also treated myself to a visit to Ranthambore in Rajasthan, which I loved. Yes it was a tourist hub, with jeeps bumping into each other and honking in the presence of a tiger, just so all the guests in every jeep would catch a glimpse of the royal animal. However, I loved the landscape, I loved the blend of jungle with historic ruins - the whole feeling of being in that jungle was simply magical. A stop over on the way back in Jaipur only added to the fun, and I returned to Bangalore with a suitcase full of fabulous stuff that I bought in Jaipur.
Keeping a blog active about the forest isn't easy - not that that there aren't things to write about. Perhaps there are too many thoughts, that it gets difficult to find the right flow and bring it all together. In the meantime, though, I read a beautiful story written by Leela Broome (Mrs B) - "Flute in the Forest". The story took me back to why I got addicted to nature and wildlife in the first place. Mrs B's Nature Trails, held in their farm in Pune, was a magical camp exposing kids to the right attitude to nature. After attending two of her camps as a 12-year-old, the campus of NCL colony transformed from a big playground with plenty of space to run around, to a fantastic ecosystem with with all kinds of birds, insects and snakes around. If only one would take the time to notice.
I learnt to recognise a few snakes (the common venomous ones and a few others that one could see easily) and most birds that I'd see around our home. Holidays and weekends meant an early morning game of basketball, followed by a few hours of sitting around the front porch or backyard, bird book in hand, observing all the birds of the area go about their day. The Drongo chicks on the Neem tree learnt to fly as I was watching them. The Babul tree outside the front gate had several nests of plum headed parakeets, and they'd keep flying back to the tree to feed their chicks, screeching away to announce their presence. A silly Bulbul decided to nest and lay its eggs precariously on the top of a cupboard door, those eggs were doomed, and hopefully the Bulbul learnt a lesson after that. The rat snake from the trench nearby was a regular visitor to the house, knocking on the glass panes of the front door, in case the door wasn't open. I spent an entire afternoon watching a game of hide and seek between the rat snake and a bunch of squirrels on the Neem tree right outside the kitchen window.
I noticed how the Purple Sunbird changed its plumage through the year, and when the heads of the Cattle Egret changed colour. Golden Orioles frequented the Jamun tree, and I got a nice picture from my point-and-shoot camera one day, when I woke up and found the Golden Oriole right outside the bedroom window. Locating the Coppersmith from its call was always confusing, since it first seems to be coming from all directions - but I picked up the skill quickly enough and could easily find the bird high up in the branches of the Gulmohar tree. I loved silk cotton season - cotton flew all over the place every time there was a breeze, this was the closest we had to snowfall, so we'd run to stand under the cotton tree as the wind blew. The Spotted Owlets were permanently perched on a tree at the far end of the garden. They would get a bit jittery when there was a lot of human movement, but I often crept up to about 20 meters away, walking very slowly, and then would squat on the ground facing them. Once I had settled down, they'd be there forever, both pairs of eyes carefully watching to see if I was planning to move anytime soon.
Once in a while, we spent the weekend trekking in the hills around the city. I'd be really upset if there was a trek I couldn't participate in, and would wait anxiously for the trekkers to return. I'd be eager to know what they had seen, and was most excited to find out that they had spotted a Shieldtail, or Vultures around a buffalo carcass. On hearing this, I was often disappointed that I missed out on a special sighting.
The fast paced, high pressure trend of modern wildlife tourism has diluted the real joy of being in nature. You could meet hundreds of regular wildlife tourists today, and by regular I mean at least 4 trips to a jungle every year, and still not find a single person who could identify a serpent eagle. In most probability, 50% of these tourists would carelessly toss a plastic bag into the forest, once they are done with the chips inside it. Perhaps 70% of these would feed the monkeys on the roadside. All smokers would light up their cigarette while in the forest, in spite of the highly publicised news articles about raging forest fires all over South India.
1. What did you see in the safari?
a) Tiger
b) Nothing (terrible luck)
(Answer this question only if the answer to 1 was a)
2. How many?
a) One (normal luck)
b) Two-Four (good luck)
c) More than four (excellent luck)
Today's well educated, high salaried, SLR wielding wildlife tourist has encouraged very irresponsible tourism all over the country. This results in naturalists who think avian species are a waste of time, drivers who honk and shout in the middle of the forest, forest guards who'd accept a couple of green notes in return for a drive through the jungle in the night and resort operators who'd like to convert the waterhole into a boating attraction.
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