“You will snap!”

Staying with the Meghalaya survey and my encounters with various specimens of the human race belonging the State Forest Department, I consider it my duty to illuminate my readers on what we ecologists face on a pretty regular basis. It needs a lot more skill and experience to deal with them than with a rampaging elephant in musth. In hindsight many of these incidents may seem funny but I can assure you that when it does happen, mirth is the last thing on our minds.

I wasn’t feeling especially perky when I realised that the rickety local bus had dropped me 2 km. short of the Forest Rest House after a five hour ride across some of the worst roads I had ever seen. Saddled with three bags, I made the walk in the afternoon heat to reach Darugiri Reserve Forest in East Garo Hills. Visions of a mountain of beer bottles were rudely snapped when I realised that neither was there a ‘giri’ nor any ‘daru’. In the absence of the Range Officer I was asked to meet the hero of this post, the Beat Officer (BO from now).

I was directed towards the lone tea shop (which was also the lone shop) near the Rest House. A man was standing outside the shop with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and looking mildly harassed. I was introduced by the forest guard who quickly left the scene. The BO took one look at me and pointed to the coin booth in the shop and declared “trunk call”. For a minute I thought it was a joke about elephants, because i didn’t even know that ‘trunk calls’ existed anymore, that too from a coin operated phone. He was apparently waiting for one. I decided waiting would be the prudent thing to do.

Trunk call over, he decided he wanted to interrogate me. Midway into this conversation I realised that he had no idea what a Slow Loris was, even after I showed him a photograph. I hoped that this was just his ignorance and not an indicator of its actual absence. The situation was soon clarified when the tea-shop lady declared that it was very much present in the Darugiri and adjacent Dambu RF. With some difficulty I managed to plan out a survey walk in the Dambu RF for the evening. BO, however kept referring to ‘Dumbo’ which I soon realised was his version of the same place rather than some insult aimed at me. He asked if I had a camera. When I showed him the camera, he contemplated it and turned to me and said “You will snap!”.

I was of course pretty close to snapping for some time. This declaration had nothing to do with that of course. It was his way of saying that he believed I would be able to take some photographs.

Evening came and we were dropped at a point from where would start the night walk in search for the Loris. Five minutes into the walk, BO lit a cigarette. I had to tell him to ditch it and thankfully he did it without any complaint. Soon we saw a bright eye-shine and with the spotlight discovered a Red Giant Flying Squirrel (Petaurista petaurista). I was thrilled and took a video with my digital camera. BO was excited to see me snap. In his excitement to make sure I got the best ‘snap’ he offered to throw a stone at the squirrel to make it fly! You can actually hear him say it in the video below.

I took out my field note book to note down the sighting. BO came over and started peeking at what I was writing. When he realised what it was he advised me “Write Dumbo RF”. As if I could forget.

After an hour of walking, we heard what seemed like the ’Hells Angels’ approaching. There were motorbikes and sounds of screaming alcohol induced frenzy. Three motorbikes laden with boys had got into the forest road and were roaring full speed towards us. We barely managed to get out of their way. I wondered what else the day had in store for me.

Meanwhile we had reached a small guard house in the forest. BO informed me that there were two staff staying here and that I should ‘snap’ them. By then, I had stopped asking too many questions. The men were summoned. From the sounds coming from inside the house it appeared the two guys were stone drunk. BO immediately changed his mind and said “Let us go. You cannot snap them today”. As we started walking away, the men evidently emerged from the house and started pleading with us to come back and ‘snap’ them. They sounded extremely drunk and edgy. I looked around at BO and the other two guys accompanying us. Nobody seemed in any mood to turn back. As we walked away in the darkness, they kept shouting and one of them started wailing and crying.

It had ceased to become funny anymore. I felt sad, really sad for these men. What conditions did they live in to  bring them to this state of emotional and nervous breakdown? There was nothing to do however. We walked on and as we neared the end point, BO declared “You have now seen Dumbo”.

The careless woodpecker

Of the many interesting experiences during the recent survey in Meghalaya, this is probably the one that I managed to photo-document the best. It is a prime candidate for an independent post!

We were surveying the Nongkhyllem Wildlife Sanctuary in the Ri-Bhoi district of Meghalaya. It remains the only sanctuary in the Khasi Hills and is one of the best areas for bird-watching in northeast India. The Range Officer had advised us to camp inside the sanctuary along with a team of Forest Department staff. It was almost as if he had read my last post (Surviving Surveys) and wanted to disprove the 3 forbidden C’s theory! Although our survey for the nocturnal Slow Loris meant that our walks were to start only after the sunset, I couldn’t resist early morning bird-watching walks. It was during this time that we came across one of the most diligent and yet careless animals I have ever seen.

We were walking on a forest path and the particular area in question had plenty of bamboo. We could hear the ‘tok tok tok’ noises of a woodpecker in the vicinity. From the sound, it seemed really close. I was with Wanphai Lyngdoh, a good natured and intelligent Beat Officer and colleague Swapna. We stopped in our tracks and tried to identify the direction of the sound. As we tiptoed towards it, the sound kept getting louder and louder until it we felt that whatever was making it must be within an arms reach! But we just could not see a thing! Try as we might , we just couldn’t see any movement. It was then that I noticed the hole in the bamboo. Watch the video below.

After several confused minutes, the truth finally hit us. The bird was inside the bamboo! We were standing right next to the hole and it didn’t have a clue about our presence. Of course we still had to verify it. Wanphai and myself spoke in signs and quietly approached the bamboo. He then put his hand on the opening. Finally, the woodpecker stopped its drumming. It seemed to have finally woken up to the circumstances with the absence of the only light source.

We placed the bamboo on the ground and wrenched out a piece. And there it was. Sure enough, there was a Pale headed woodpecker (Gecinulus grantia) sitting inside. We took it out slowly, frozen as it was in complete disbelief and shock, took a few pictures and let it go. I had never seen a Pale headed woodpecker from so close. Actually, I had never seen any woodpecker from so close! As we saw it fly away, I couldn’t help whisper a word of advice to it : “ Dude, it is important to build a nice house, but you really should watch your neck. Its a jungle out there!”

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Surviving surveys

Most first timers who embark on ambitious projects to survey northeast India soon discover that the skills necessary here are slightly different than in most other parts of India. Surveying here, depends less on your grasp of wildlife and ecology and more on how you handle a relentless line-up of 'spanners' in your work and a fantastic variety of colourful and motley characters. This rich variety of characters is rumored to be even more species rich than the ecological wealth of the Indo-Burma biodiversity hotspot situated northeast India.
With my considerable experience of 'spanners' and 'characters' from previous experiences, I had already prepared myself and slipped into the 'shit happens' mode. For the curious newcomer, this is a physical and mental state that is brought on by the enlightening and tranquil-inducing acceptance of the fact that sooner or later, you are going to be, well… basically screwed. Once you accept the fact, and in fact even start looking forward to it, it can be a strangely fulfilling time for your spiritual development. Each time you listen to the news on radio, you expect a strike (bundh, if you prefer), each planned meeting with a forest department official you expect him to be out of office 'on tour', and every time you see your rucksack loaded onto the back or top of the bus, you expect it to be your last glimpse of it. But soon, all the hard work will pay off and it becomes second nature to expect the worst. When it does come finally, there is a sense of immense happiness and you are able to react to it in much the same way that a Zen monk might have.
Most forests in northeast India are under community control, so it’s a no-brainer that if you are planning to survey a lot of areas, you'll have to meet a lot of people. But some of the more pristine (very inappropriate word for most places) patches of forests are government controlled 'Protected Areas'. To do anything there, you'll have to meet the Forest Department.
Aaah! The Forest Department!
Some of the best campfire stories that I have heard from my wildlife biologist friends have not been about wildlife, but about colourful encounters with entities in the forest department. Personally, some of the best times I have had, have been with forest guards, the lowest rung in the battered old bureaucratic machine. They can be especially good drinking partners, although you need to be prepared to listen to a whole litany of grievances. Dealing with the top dogs can however be a little tricky (ranging from a game of chess to a game of Russian roulette).
The case gets even more interesting if you want to do any one of the three forbidden C's. Those are a strict no-no. Any reference to them will usually elicit a response that is more spontaneous and instinctive rather than voluntary or learned. Years of conditioning have taught them to go straight back into their carapaces at the slightest mention of the three C's - Capture, Collect and Camp.
Thou shalt not capture any animal/bird/insect
Thou shalt not collect any biological specimen may it be a plant/animal/insect/shit/tissue (a friendly warning.. Don’t ever ever say tissue)
Thou shalt not camp inside the forests of the Protected Area, no matter how large it is and how difficult areas are to access.
Yet, that’s not all. As someone said "the true source of our ignorance is this - that our knowledge can only be finite while our ignorance must necessarily be infinite"
I learnt something more about the immense swathes of ignorance that I possess. I had discovered a companion to the three C's. It was called Crowd.
A survey for the Slow Loris, a nocturnal primate would necessarily have to be conducted only at night when we would go around with torches looking for its characteristic orange eye shine.
Good.
An innumerable range of miseries ranging from rogue elephants to armed robbers and insurgents apparently awaited us if we went tramping into the forest at night.
Not Good.
The solution? Take a whole goddamned regiment of forest guards, beat officers, drivers and even the casual hanger-on. In short, a Crowd.
Not Good. Not Good at all.
As expected, the lorises just weren't biting. Can you blame it if there are eight guys, three guns, five torches, plenty of bidis and generous doses of amusement?
There it was. I had finally found my 'spanner'. Atleast the first one, that is.
Enter Zen Monk. Take a break. Speak to the motley bunch. Explain the necessity for silence. Drop a few names. Promise a pack of cigarettes to the first guy who spots a Loris.
There is a distinct improvement in the proceedings. There is some silence and even the driver has stopped fiddling with his mobile.
Good?
I switch back to 'shit happens' mode.