Wildlife conservation, for citizens. How a WII course is changing the way I think of conservationists.

A year ago I realized I want to spend the rest of life working for wildlife conservation. It wasn’t a midlife crisis moment. On the contrary, what should have been obvious all along dawned on me rather slowly.

Jackals in the wild
Jackals in the wild

How does one begin to live the dream?

My new wannabe goal lacks the prerequisite academic backing. I don’t know anyone influential enough to open doors for me. Nor am I a donor. Scientific papers are mostly beyond my realm of understanding. I don’t recognize every other bird or ungulate. What I do know is that it’s not too late.

I want to get up close and personal with wildlife. Go out on field trips. Be involved. Inspire. Document. Help a researcher. Assist a vet. Be better informed. Tell the world. Invest in serious skills. Attempt to bridge that gap between scientists and citizens. Do what needs to be done 101%. For the rest of my life!

Goral fawn
Goral fawn

A friend, also a WII alumnus, happened to mention Wildlife Institute of India’s IV course on Wildlife Conservation for Wildlife Enthusiasts. It’s exactly what I was looking for. They hadn’t put in an age limit, so I applied. I was selected and it was everything I hoped it to be. And more. The ten-day course was divided into lecture-style classes and a field trek/trip into a core forest area.

Indispensable. Mules make it all possible.
Indispensable. Mules make it all possible.

A second revelation

I hate stereotyping but in startling contrast to the ‘government babus’ in my head, WII staff were a breath of fresh air. I interacted with charismatic and enterprising individuals from various departments. Their passion is admirable, their involvement, inspiring and their generosity in sharing, genuine.

The path of an environmentalist, as you and I know, is not an easy one. A few of our mentors joined WII as students and chose never to leave. 15-20 years on, these research scientists continue to battle on at great personal cost. Graciously, they make time to motivate ordinary people like myself. It’s humbling.

An eagle keeping watch
An eagle keeping watch

“When someone has spent decades devoted to observing certain creatures, their observations are not to be taken lightly.”-Carl Safina 

I agree. If there’s one way to learn, it’s to walk with the experts. As a trekker, the highlight of the course for me was visiting core forest areas on foot. After a few days in the field with Dr. R Suresh Kumar and Dr. Lakshminarayana—both storehouses of information—my respect for conservationists has risen several-fold.

It’s one thing to learn in the classroom about how elephants communicate. It’s another, to be startled awake by trumpeting a few yards away from where you lie, trapped in a flimsy sleeping bag.

Fresh prints are evidence of high traffic in the forests.
Fresh prints are evidence of high traffic in the forests.

 

Spotted bill ducks at the WII campus.
Spotted bill ducks at the WII campus.

This course is undoubtedly a significant one. The WII campus, tucked away in a green haven, hosts a great number of wild inhabitants. I am honestly astounded by WII’s collective wealth of expertise and by the impact they’re making, unknown to the rest of the world. I’m sure my course mates echo my sentiments. We’re a mixed bunch of adults from diverse professional backgrounds, different states, and varying ages. We were a rather enthusiastic and animated bunch: absorbing, theorizing, questioning and arguing. I can now say with conviction that there are 14 more Indian citizens in this world, who are better informed, convinced, and committed to saving our natural wealth.

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Scope of conservation lectures
Biogeography of India/History of Indian Natural History/Achievements/Challenges and opportunities in wildlife conservation /Wildlife of Himalayas: conservation through science/ Large carnivore conservation in India/Saving Tigers in a human-dominated landscape/Science and management of tiger reintroduction/ Elephant conservation challenges/ Wetland conservation in India/Saving our sea turtles/ turtle trade/ Fish conservation in India/Dealing with wildlife crimes/A need for developing wildlife forensics/ Managing wild animals in distress/ Dealing with snakes, venomous and non-venomous in India/ Introduction to classic natural history books.
And that’s the tip of the iceberg.

If you’d like to read more of my blog posts:

http://bit.ly/reserveclosetohome

http://bit.ly/HimalayanWolves

http://bit.ly/8LifeSkillsFromABird

http://bit.ly/WildernessFirstAidMussoorie

Do visit me on Instagram @lalithainsta

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Yearning to Save Wolves.

#Wolfprints

(This blog was written in 2016 when I began my pursuit of wolves)

I am smitten and this is unchartered territory for me. This whole yearning, trailing, nearly obsessive wolf thing, I got going here. Somewhere in my subconscious, I still carry this image of Farley Mowat transporting jerry cans of vodka in the guise of aviation fuel as he prepares to fly out in search of wolves alone, in sub-artic Canada. He lived like the wolves, urine marking his territory and eating mice when there was no caribou.

I can picture Jiang Rong*, the young Chinese student, during his harsh posting in inner Mongolia, stumbling on the pack of wolves that inspired his most fascinating novel in the thick of the Chinese revolution.

You may have heard of Mark Rowland, the philosophy professor, who kept a wolf called Brenin−posing as a pet dog−in the US for the whole duration of its lifetime. Rowland got away with it. Running and living with Brenin, nursing him through sickness, Rowland finally, gave him the noble burial he deserved and went on to write about lessons learned from the wild. I never wanted this book to end. That just about sums up my limited reading on wolves; all of which sound like romantic fiction but isn’t.

As much as I enjoyed these true accounts, by very real wolf adoring people, what set me off on the wolf trail is a mere conversation in a remote Himalayan village, which I had visited with my family. There were suggestions of smoking out wolves from dens and killing of cubs for a price. All hearsay but nonetheless, one conversation led to another that left me all the more bothered and restless. I have always been a sucker for the underdog. As you probably guessed, the wolf in my narrative is one and I think it deserves a second chance.

There was one problem. I was clueless on where to begin. For starters, I had never heard of a Himalayan wolf till then. I am neither qualified nor trained to a conservationist. But I am beginning to wish I were. It’s a sure pass to visit areas that are wolf habitats or off limit, and also work with experts in the field. It was too late for regrets. I made a deal with myself. I decided to go look for wolves and convince myself they exist before chasing ghosts. The determining factor would be actually spotting one. I needed a sign. The chances were bleak. No one I personally know has seen Himalayan wolves** or knows anything about them. Or, unusually, had any good counsel for me.*** Was I chasing rainbows? A few local folks in the area thought so. “It’s impossible,” they said. “You need to stay in one place long enough.” “Don’t believe what so and so says.” “You may see dogs.” “Come back next winter.” “I guarantee you won’t see one where you’re going.”

I had a single day, a single window to try and stay true to the wolf and myself. I turned a deaf ear and marched on regardless, in search of my elusive underdog. It wasn’t easy. On a cold evening, I travelled to an unfamiliar village, the base for my ascent to a high altitude lake at approx. 15000 ft. Starting out at 3:30 am, I trekked under a star-dusted sky accompanied by Kunga, a local. The territory was new to both of us. In no time at all, we were both cold and lost. I was clambering up−sometimes on all fours−a 60º scree slope that felt more like 75º. I moved on mindlessly, like a determined, migrating beast. By the time I ascended to the top, I was so breathless I wondered if was high-altitude or plain exhaustion that would kill me first.

#HimalayanWolf?
#HimalayanWolf

Then, in one instant, all thoughts and doubts were erased. I stood frozen to the spot. There, before me, in the first light of dawn, I saw running one after another across the dry lake, a pack of what looked like wolves. Not one but three or four. Could they be dogs? They certainly looked like wolves. Almost immediately, I heard a short bark to my right and then, a howl.

I felt the surface of my skin suddenly chill in response to my first wolf howl in the wild. I turned to see a solitary wolf, classically silhouetted on a rock, head thrust back towards the sky, communicating our presence to the rest of the pack. In a matter of seconds, they were all gone. Just like that. My mirage disappeared as rapidly as it had emerged leaving only footprints. Luckily my companion saw them too. We looked at each other, idiotic grins morphing our faces. I got my sign. A whole pack full! Suddenly, I was hungry for more.

*Pseudonym

**The Himalayan wolf is a newly discovered species distinct from the Tibetan wolf. (Wikipedia)

***I am extremely grateful to Mr. Chauhan, Range Forest Officer at Kaza who encouraged me to make the effort and also to Spiti Ecosphere for providing me volunteering opportunities to interact with locals and understand their perceptions towards wildlife.

Tigress, Tigress Burning Bright

William Blake knew what he was talking about when he penned his poem, The Tiger. I saw this beautiful tigress scent her territory in Corbett, seemingly unperturbed by jeep loads of tourists capturing her every move. It was around 3-4pm , her coat looked like it was aflame in the dappled light. She confidently strolled ahead of us scenting every tree – letting us know we were trespassing.

Watch her on my You Tube channel:

 

The Tiger by William Blake.

TIGER, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

 

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

 

And what shoulder and what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

 

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

 

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water’d heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

 

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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