by Ramith Meledath
Field Officer, Nilgiri Conservation Project

With my love for wildlife ubiquitous in every aspect of my life, my occasional excursions to the jungle leave me recharged, refreshed and more likely than not, a story to tell about the magic of nature within. In fact, I had one just a few weeks ago visiting the forest in Wayanad, near the site of the elephant corridor secured by Wildlife Trust of India, in the area I monitor for them. Having ventured in alone in the jungle, I had crossed a river in the that fateful evening to reach a swamp enclosed within the moist deciduous forest. While to my left was a small stream, the right held a fire line (a 5m wide stretch burnt to prevent the spread of an accidental forest fire) in an area heavily infested with exotic lantana.

The sound of shoes crunching dry leaves can resonate loudly and land you into trouble when you’re in a forest. Not keen to disturb any animal out on their daily excursion, I took off my foot-wear and hung them over my shoulder. A few minutes later, on one side of the small swamp, was an adult male gaur, feeding on the grass among the lantana. As it turned out trying to be as quiet as possible was futile and within a couple of minutes it was aware of my presence. He soon changed his direction and headed off to a small swamp where I could see three elephants- two adult females and one male calf, who would have been around 3 years old. While the adult eles were feeding in the area, the calf wandered into my side.

The calf ‘posing’ for photographs looking straight at Ramith!
Photos: Ramith Meledath / WTI

There was a fallen tree trunk on the ground, but that seemed to pose little problem for the little guy who crossed it beautifully with grace and ease, albeit a little hesitantly. It then saw me and stared at me for a while, probably trying to figure out where I suddenly landed from, in his land. Taking a quick decision to not be bothered about my presence, especially since he had his two bodyguards nearby, he went about frolicking in the area. He would feed, and then go splashing about in the muddy water in the swamp. While I was cautious of the movements of the adult elephants and identified three trees for my emergency exit strategy, the little guy’s antics had me completely mesmerised.

The calf joyously poured muddy water all over himself, probably in an attempt to mimic his adults. What he failed to do was close his eyes! Poor chap had his eyes clamped shut for a minute as he tried to shake the irritation of muddy water out of his eyes, his small but striking tusks catching the glint of the evening sun. The calf was still not perturbed by me and let me go as close as up to 10m!

The calf forgot to close his eyes during his mudbath! Photo: Ramith Meledath / WTI

That’s when the alarm calls sounded and the adult elephants headed towards our swamp in a hurry, I too ran in the opposite direction, keen to put some distance between me and the mastodons, and the calf ran back towards his protectors. Even the guar stopped feeding and decided to take shelter next to the elephants.
Up the stream, a few meters above the gaur appeared the tiger.

More ‘whitish’ on the ventral side, the young tiger didn’t seem interested in the other guests of the swamp. It walked through the stream and made a beeline in my direction. The elephants also chose that very moment to start walking towards me! Scampering as high up on my emergency tree as possible, branches perfectly poised for a hurried climb, I was very anxious to put as much of a distance between me and the possible stampede brewing below me. By the time I was done climbing and looked back down, the tiger had already disappeared.

The elephants came towards my tree smelling the whole area and that’s when they caught my scent. I had accidentally dropped my field book while climbing up and one of the adults got a whiff of it. The hard-bound book with wildlife photos on the cover underwent a thorough examination. I guess she didn’t like my data, which I had so laboriously collected, and started tearing the book. I made a loud sound mimicking a tiger, albeit very poorly, to get the big girl off the my hard work which I really didn’t want to lose.

Ramith’s view of the adult elephant as she sniffed around for him and his diary!
Photo: Ramith Meledath / WTI

Thankfully, my poor mimicry passed for the time being and all three pachyderms started running off. But she was a skeptical and stopped about 10m ahead and turned around looking for the source of the sound. She slowly moved behind the two and paused again for a few minutes, head and trunk held high in the air. She made a loud threat call and decided to finally make a move from the chaotic area with her two companions.
When it was all clear, I cautiously made my descent from the tree, keeping an eye out for the tiger, and collected the remains of my book.

Remanents of Ramith’s field book. Photo: Ramith Meledath / WTI

The gaur was still maintaining a vigil in the swamp. Through the streamline, around 30 m were wild boar babies, their snouts sniffing the ground furiously. As I walked back through the trails, with the light fading, I saw another elephant feeding on the grass but saw no signs of the tiger nor were there any alarm calls.

I safely exited into a teak plantation on the boundary of the forest which suddenly resonated with loud alarm calls of langurs as I left it behind me.