On the descent from Udhagamandalam to Mysore, after 36 hair-pin bends and 38 kilometres of roads lined with forests, you come across Mudumalai Wildlife Sanctuary in Tamil Nadu. Situated in the Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve, it’s at the cusp of three states: Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Kerala. And adjoins three other wildlife sanctuaries: Bandipur, Nagarhole and Wyanad.
A century ago, Mudumalai and the nearby areas of Umbetta, Masinagudi and Kargudi were big-game reserves. After independence, a mere 320 square kilometres of Mudumalai was declared a wildlife sanctuary, leaving out vast stretches of dense forests in the three important areas adjoining it.
This made huge populations of wild elephants, wild dogs, hyaenas, gaur, sloth bear, leopards and tigers roam about in these unprotected areas that once belonged to them but have now been snatched away. Houses and farmhouses and farmlands have mushroomed in what was once the corridors of wildlife migration. Thus disorienting these helpless and hapless wild animals and scattering them across in eight directions.
Ombalan, a local wildlife expert, has witnessed dramatic changes in animal behaviour in the last decade alone. He said, ’Wild animals don’t trust human beings anymore. How can they, when they have witnessed the brutal killing of members of their own herd by poachers? Or by reckless vehicles that speed along the national highway that slices this sanctuary into two?’
At his small, homely resort in Masinagudi, he showed me the amazing photographs and videos that he had taken in and around his resort that’s a good eight kilometres before the sanctuary. There were tigers, leopards, wild dogs, elephants and sloth bear shot at various times in the year, over the years. As bed-time stories, he recounted how an Indian wildlife photographer survived an elephant attack two kilometres from his resort around four years ago, and how a French lady photographer was mauled and killed by a lone tusker at a place called Bokkapuram just four kilometres away, just last year.
Spending the night alone in the watch tower at the end of the complex and the beginning of the forest, I heard the creaking of the bamboos as they rubbed against each other in the breeze. It sounded like the doors of the forest were creaking open; and I imagined hordes of wild animals leaving the forest and coming and standing under the watch tower.
The next day, Ombalan drove me to Mudumalai. Near the reception centre of the sanctuary, I witnessed a heart-warming scene. There was a speed-breaker on the road as the centre was right on the Ooty-Mysore highway. A group of rhesus monkeys had strategically placed themselves near this speed-breaker, and as soon as tempos laden with fruits and vegetables inevitably slowed down here, they would quickly climb on to these vehicles and vamoose after stealing whatever they could lay their hands on. I wasn’t sure whether it was lack of food sources in the forest that lead them to this lateral solution, or was it an easy, mischievous way to handpick your fruits and vegetables.
Taking the elephant ride from the centre, I entered the forest. Wildlife was conspicuous by their absence. It was almost as if they had deserted the forest en masse. Selvam the mahout took us to a salt-lick where we were almost certain to find some wildlife. And right enough there was a small herd of elephants there with five adults and two calves in tow. Selvam said, ’Sir, just a few years ago the average size of a herd used to be 25 to 30. Now it’s come down to 8 to 10.’ And I remembered having read in a wildlife report that lack of sufficient food is one reason why numbers in a herd are dwindling. In fact in that report it was even observed that reduction in prey base has reduced the average weight and size of tigers across India over the last decade or so.
On my way back to the resort, Ombalan took me to the elephant camp in Theppakkad. Situated on the banks of the Moyar river, it was a centre for breeding and training elephants. These tame elephants, called kumkis in Tamil, are pressed into urgent service many times against their own wild brethren. To push them back into the forest when they stray into human settlements in desperation.
At the only photography institute in India, Light and Life Academy in Ooty, I was told about the endless ’intrusions’ of wildlife into urban jungles. Iqbal Mohamad, the principal of this college, on an early morning drive saw a leopard as it leapt across just in front of his unbelieving car. Charan Hegde, the Head of Administration there, saw a hungry sloth bear on the roof of his bunglow as it was planning to cross over to the neighbour’s house to steal honey from their apiary. And there was a news item in The Hindu about an ex army officer who was gored to death by a gaur in nearby Coonoor when he had gone for his morning walk.
All this made me wonder: Is it a case of man taking over the forests or is it wild animals taking over the urban jungle? Whatever be the truth, it is only bound to lead to unprecedented disaster.
