Ashim Choudhury
Pawalgarh, recently anointed a tiger conservation reserve, is to be found 18 kilometres beyond Ramnagar. Just after you meet the olive green Maruti Gypsy ‘trekkers’ in Ramnagar (who jam the way and pester you with, “Corbett, sir…Corbett?”), ignore them and take a right into a deceptively narrow road. This is actually the highway to Nainital. After about 12 kilometres down this route, which is intermittently interspersed with forests and farms, you come to a village that goes by the name of Bail Parao. We took a left, ducked under a forest check post and entered a teak forest. After driving onward for a little over six kilometres, we were in an open, flat land, painted green with wheat farms and dotted with homes on either side of the still-narrow road. This was beautiful Pawalgarh. We drove along a freshwater stream and finally entered a gate to our right. It was love at first sight with the forest bungalow here, built in 1902—with its colonial architecture, and the khansamas attending to the kitchen, it was like living in the days of the Raj. We even had a lit-up fire in the fireplace!
That afternoon we hopped on to a ‘trekker’ to go to the conservation
reserve across the road. Soon, we descended onto a sandy route through a
thicket of sal, silk-cotton and other trees. In no time, we were upon a
vast white expanse of sand and boulders. Dodging the round rocks, we
soon crossed a stream…and then another stream. Our guide, Range Officer
Kripal Singh Bisht, informed us, “We’re crossing the Dabka River.” It’s
barely a stream now, but quite a fierce sight in the rains, when it
turns brown in colour.
Would we get lucky enough to see a tiger? That was the thought uppermost on our minds as we were about to enter the Pawalgarh forest. Our ‘close encounter’ with the tiger had begun at Bail Parao. Just before taking the turn for the Pawalgarh Conservation Reserve, we had enquired about lunch at the wayside Annapurna restaurant. We retreated when we learnt that it was vegetarian, but the young owner entreated us to stay back. He would prepare ‘non-veg’ for us as long as we were discreet about it. And believe me, the pepper chicken at the vegetarian restaurant was among the tastiest chicken curries we’ve ever had!
As we ate, the young manager of the outlet, Ganesh Thakur, got talking about tigers. Pointing to a garden umbrella in front of his shop, he said, “There was a tiger standing here at this very spot about a month ago.” I took his tiger-on-the-main-road claim with a pinch of salt. But then I had to believe his story. “It was dark…around 4am in the morning,” he said. “The milk truck had come to deliver milk. When the driver saw the tiger, he called us on the phone, warning us not to get out of the house.” The tiger hung around for over 15 minutes before vanishing into the fields. No, Thakur had not seen the tiger with his own eyes, but he was ready to call the women of the house across the road—they had seen it. “Should I call them?” he asked. I had to stop him physically. Thakur concluded philosophically: “Seeing a tiger is luck by chance.” He recounted how a young couple, tourists who had eaten at his restaurant, spent a full day at Corbett looking for a tiger, in vain. “But they finally saw a seven-foot-long tiger on their way here,” he exclaimed. “It is luck by chance!” That was his credo.
Thakur’s story of sighting a tiger was given credence by two local women a day later, when we were buying groceries at Bail Parao. They had seen a tiger in the sugarcane fields just a little beyond the main road. “We were on our way to the primary school,” they said. And they giggled, tickled by the very thought.
But as we crossed the bumpy river bed that cuts through the Pawalgarh forest, looking out for the striped cat, there was only disappointment in store. Our only source of joy was tiny black fish in a pool of water formed by the sparse river. The water in the river, the forest guards informed us, was not from melting snow but from springs in the mountains.
We were by the edge of the thick forest, on the other side of the river now, when another piece of good news reached us. We were just taking a bend into the forest when Range Officer Bisht ordered the vehicle to stop. Pointing to a path that led in the direction of the river, he said, “This is where we saw a tiger—it walked away majestically and it was so large. We got the scare of our lives!” Bisht said it with a sense of self-importance, as though he were showing us a real tiger. Was it a male or a female? Bisht and his guards were not sure how to distinguish a male from a female tiger. But, yes, the pug marks can be revealing (longish for the female tiger; round and larger in males).
A few minutes later, we climbed up the forested hill and entered the
Hathi Galiyar elephant trail. Elephant herds, we were told, often take
the same path, from which they rarely stray when travelling from one
‘elephant corridor’ to another. I was struck by the sheer size of the
sal and other trees. Pawalgarh is a virgin forest with very little sign
of human incursion.
The only sign of human activity was at a clearing. Trees had been cut
down to make way for grasslands. With winter just ending, the shoots of
grass were still not out. But when fully green, they would be grazing
grounds for the hundreds of spotted deer in Pawalgarh, and thus hunting
grounds for tigers and leopards. Besides the chital, Pawalgarh is home
to other antlers like the nilgai, and kakad, a small goat-like deer.
There were also hares, wild boarsand langurs. Pawalgarh also has over
350 species of birds. Among the birds found here are the black stork,
the Great Slaty Woodpecker, and a variety of hornbills.
It was in the mornings and evenings that birds were most active, even around the forest guesthouse. In the afternoon, we spotted a serpent eagle circling in the sky. But what was most heartwarming was the sight of (now endangered) vultures. Feeding on a carcass by the river bed, they looked like giants of the sky when taking off on their large wings.
In Hathi Galiyar, we saw elephant dung lying around a waterhole built by the forest department. Fresh water is brought through a pipeline connected to a spring some three kilometres away in the nearby forest. There is one more pipeline that feeds another waterhole a few hundred metres away. An elephant’s footprint was still fresh on the edge of the wet ground around the waterhole. Trap cameras were strapped to the branch of a tree, yet we saw neither elephant nor tiger anywhere near the waterhole. The evening light was fast fading. But stories from the forest guards accompanying us came thick and fast. “A few weeks back, the grey tusker came charging at the CCF,” said a guard pointing to the spot from where one walks towards the waterhole. ‘The grey tusker’ was an angry ageing male that was known to be particularly intimidating. “Never run away from an elephant—stand your ground and it will go away,” the guard informed us. “That’s what the CCF sahib did. And the grey tusker quietly turned away.” Stories about the Chief Conservator of Forests, Kumaon Range, Paramjit Singh, are legion. Considered the moving force behind the creation of Pawalgarh CR, Singh also heads the anti-poaching task force.
We returned from the first waterhole and clambered on to the trekker.
This time round, we took the path further towards Sitabani. Suddenly,
the trekker swerved from the path and turned left into the thick forest.
We were feeling lost when, winding through the jungle, it finally
stopped at a barrier. We were at another forest clearing, at another
artificially created grassland with a waterhole. Our sudden arrival in
this secluded place apparently scared the grazing chitals. They darted
into the air and scampered into the forest on the other side of the
grassland. Another herd, caught unawares by our presence, literally flew
into the cover of the thick forest. Pawalgarh in many ways is a virgin
forest in that the animals, unlike in neighbouring Corbett, flee at the
sight of humans. Besides deer, we saw flocks of tiny parrots, flying
across the clearing. By the time we got back to our trekker, it was
close to nightfall.
At night, the forest takes on an ominous air. We were watching out for that lurking elephant or crouching tiger. With nothing to feed our fear and curiosity, we wanted to go to Sitabani, a few kilometres away. “It’ll not be safe to go to Sita Bani,” Range Officer Bisht told us. Animals, particularly elephant herds, could threaten our safety, he said. I looked at my kids in the back of the trekker, urging me to take the risk. I was in two minds: one asking for adventure, the other for safety. But Bisht, responsible for our safety, had already made up his mind. So we abandoned our plans to go further into the forest.
Instead, we retraced our path through Hathi Galiyar. After the darkness of the thick forest, the opening of the river afforded us some light. As we were crossing the river, my keen eyes caught a black piece of shit on a boulder. “What’s this?” I asked Bisht. I didn’t realise I had spotted the most precious piece of animal poo in my life. He got out of the trekker, took a close look with his torchlight, and announced, “Scat, tiger scat…do you notice the hair?” Yes, the scat has hair as well, because tigers eat their prey along with the fur and skin. By now, I was also out of the trekker to inspect the poo. Never in my life had I cared so much for a piece of poop. But this was no ordinary shit. In animal biology terms, we had hit upon a gold mine. Of the 46 tigers that inhabit Pawalgarh, a figure that the CCF vouches for, all we got to see was scat. Nothing more. I was reminded of Ganesh Thakur, the young restaurateur at Bail Parao. He was right. Seeing a tiger is luck by chance only!
Sighting a tiger is something of a ‘luck by
chance’ at the new tiger conservation reserve, Pawalgarh in Uttarakhand.
But nonetheless, the virgin forest is worth exploring.
Pawalgarh, recently anointed a tiger conservation reserve, is to be found 18 kilometres beyond Ramnagar. Just after you meet the olive green Maruti Gypsy ‘trekkers’ in Ramnagar (who jam the way and pester you with, “Corbett, sir…Corbett?”), ignore them and take a right into a deceptively narrow road. This is actually the highway to Nainital. After about 12 kilometres down this route, which is intermittently interspersed with forests and farms, you come to a village that goes by the name of Bail Parao. We took a left, ducked under a forest check post and entered a teak forest. After driving onward for a little over six kilometres, we were in an open, flat land, painted green with wheat farms and dotted with homes on either side of the still-narrow road. This was beautiful Pawalgarh. We drove along a freshwater stream and finally entered a gate to our right. It was love at first sight with the forest bungalow here, built in 1902—with its colonial architecture, and the khansamas attending to the kitchen, it was like living in the days of the Raj. We even had a lit-up fire in the fireplace!
Subhoranjan Sen
The scenic Corbett Falls
Would we get lucky enough to see a tiger? That was the thought uppermost on our minds as we were about to enter the Pawalgarh forest. Our ‘close encounter’ with the tiger had begun at Bail Parao. Just before taking the turn for the Pawalgarh Conservation Reserve, we had enquired about lunch at the wayside Annapurna restaurant. We retreated when we learnt that it was vegetarian, but the young owner entreated us to stay back. He would prepare ‘non-veg’ for us as long as we were discreet about it. And believe me, the pepper chicken at the vegetarian restaurant was among the tastiest chicken curries we’ve ever had!
As we ate, the young manager of the outlet, Ganesh Thakur, got talking about tigers. Pointing to a garden umbrella in front of his shop, he said, “There was a tiger standing here at this very spot about a month ago.” I took his tiger-on-the-main-road claim with a pinch of salt. But then I had to believe his story. “It was dark…around 4am in the morning,” he said. “The milk truck had come to deliver milk. When the driver saw the tiger, he called us on the phone, warning us not to get out of the house.” The tiger hung around for over 15 minutes before vanishing into the fields. No, Thakur had not seen the tiger with his own eyes, but he was ready to call the women of the house across the road—they had seen it. “Should I call them?” he asked. I had to stop him physically. Thakur concluded philosophically: “Seeing a tiger is luck by chance.” He recounted how a young couple, tourists who had eaten at his restaurant, spent a full day at Corbett looking for a tiger, in vain. “But they finally saw a seven-foot-long tiger on their way here,” he exclaimed. “It is luck by chance!” That was his credo.
Thakur’s story of sighting a tiger was given credence by two local women a day later, when we were buying groceries at Bail Parao. They had seen a tiger in the sugarcane fields just a little beyond the main road. “We were on our way to the primary school,” they said. And they giggled, tickled by the very thought.
But as we crossed the bumpy river bed that cuts through the Pawalgarh forest, looking out for the striped cat, there was only disappointment in store. Our only source of joy was tiny black fish in a pool of water formed by the sparse river. The water in the river, the forest guards informed us, was not from melting snow but from springs in the mountains.
We were by the edge of the thick forest, on the other side of the river now, when another piece of good news reached us. We were just taking a bend into the forest when Range Officer Bisht ordered the vehicle to stop. Pointing to a path that led in the direction of the river, he said, “This is where we saw a tiger—it walked away majestically and it was so large. We got the scare of our lives!” Bisht said it with a sense of self-importance, as though he were showing us a real tiger. Was it a male or a female? Bisht and his guards were not sure how to distinguish a male from a female tiger. But, yes, the pug marks can be revealing (longish for the female tiger; round and larger in males).
Subhoranjan Sen
A trail through Pawalgarh forest
Subhoranjan Sen
Nilgais at Pawalgarh
It was in the mornings and evenings that birds were most active, even around the forest guesthouse. In the afternoon, we spotted a serpent eagle circling in the sky. But what was most heartwarming was the sight of (now endangered) vultures. Feeding on a carcass by the river bed, they looked like giants of the sky when taking off on their large wings.
In Hathi Galiyar, we saw elephant dung lying around a waterhole built by the forest department. Fresh water is brought through a pipeline connected to a spring some three kilometres away in the nearby forest. There is one more pipeline that feeds another waterhole a few hundred metres away. An elephant’s footprint was still fresh on the edge of the wet ground around the waterhole. Trap cameras were strapped to the branch of a tree, yet we saw neither elephant nor tiger anywhere near the waterhole. The evening light was fast fading. But stories from the forest guards accompanying us came thick and fast. “A few weeks back, the grey tusker came charging at the CCF,” said a guard pointing to the spot from where one walks towards the waterhole. ‘The grey tusker’ was an angry ageing male that was known to be particularly intimidating. “Never run away from an elephant—stand your ground and it will go away,” the guard informed us. “That’s what the CCF sahib did. And the grey tusker quietly turned away.” Stories about the Chief Conservator of Forests, Kumaon Range, Paramjit Singh, are legion. Considered the moving force behind the creation of Pawalgarh CR, Singh also heads the anti-poaching task force.
Subhoranjan Sen
The quaint forest bungalow at Sitabani
At night, the forest takes on an ominous air. We were watching out for that lurking elephant or crouching tiger. With nothing to feed our fear and curiosity, we wanted to go to Sitabani, a few kilometres away. “It’ll not be safe to go to Sita Bani,” Range Officer Bisht told us. Animals, particularly elephant herds, could threaten our safety, he said. I looked at my kids in the back of the trekker, urging me to take the risk. I was in two minds: one asking for adventure, the other for safety. But Bisht, responsible for our safety, had already made up his mind. So we abandoned our plans to go further into the forest.
Instead, we retraced our path through Hathi Galiyar. After the darkness of the thick forest, the opening of the river afforded us some light. As we were crossing the river, my keen eyes caught a black piece of shit on a boulder. “What’s this?” I asked Bisht. I didn’t realise I had spotted the most precious piece of animal poo in my life. He got out of the trekker, took a close look with his torchlight, and announced, “Scat, tiger scat…do you notice the hair?” Yes, the scat has hair as well, because tigers eat their prey along with the fur and skin. By now, I was also out of the trekker to inspect the poo. Never in my life had I cared so much for a piece of poop. But this was no ordinary shit. In animal biology terms, we had hit upon a gold mine. Of the 46 tigers that inhabit Pawalgarh, a figure that the CCF vouches for, all we got to see was scat. Nothing more. I was reminded of Ganesh Thakur, the young restaurateur at Bail Parao. He was right. Seeing a tiger is luck by chance only!
