“Ay, every inch a king. When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.” These lines from Shakespeare’s ‘King Lear’ may appear out of context, but I was indeed quaking, not from fear but excitement, under the intense gaze of a male Markhor, one of the largest and the most majestic of all mountain goats, as it stood proudly erect on a rock projecting from a steep hillside, gallantly waiting for its bevy of females to catch up. He was in his breeding prime, sporting long spiralling horns, a flowing mane and a striking black goatee. It was a brief encounter (more of it later), but impressively exciting.

I was participating in the annual survey of Markhor as a volunteer with the Wildlife Trust of India (WTI), which has been involved in its conservation along with the J&K Forest department. It was a longstanding dream come true for me and I’d like to thank WTI for providing this opportunity. The team comprised of Dr. Riyaz Ahmed (Project Head), Samir Khazir (Sociologist and Field Officer), Shabir Butt (Field assistant), Forest department personnel and researchers and students from Kashmir University. I was the only non-Kashmiri in the group and was charmed not only by the fabled natural beauty of Kashmir, but equally disarmed by the warmth and hospitality of its people!

It was a great learning experience, working in the field. Not only did I get to see the magnificent Markhor in all its glory in the splendid Pir Panjal and Kazinag mountains, study their habits and habitat, but also understand the various conservation issues, challenges and complexities involved in saving them.

Large Markhor male in Lachipora during late winter Photo by Udayan Rao Pawar

For a young Biology student like me, nothing like the practical ‘gyaan’ and ‘vigyaan’ one gets while working with veterans in the field. Particularly interesting were the insights provided by Dr. Riyaz into the ecology and behaviour of Markhors, based on his longstanding experience in research and conservation work. He commented upon the subtle changes he observed in the behaviour of Markhors, which had become more visible and confiding as a result of protection, as compared to the early days when poaching was rampant and unchecked. It has now become easier to carry out observations and research. Although some preliminary studies have been done, considerable scope exists for carrying out further research. He particularly stressed upon the need to conduct further studies on the mating systems and segregation in the sexually dimorphic Markhor.

I also learnt a good deal from Samir, whose expertise lay in the more practical aspects of conservation – PR, liaising, and engaging with the local communities, particularly dealing with sensitive and vexatious issue of grazing by migrant Gujjars and Bakarwals. Vivek Menon (ED, WTI) often calls conservation ‘an art of the possible’, and Sameer is quite adept at it.

I found Shabir’s intimate knowledge of the local terrain as well as its wildlife and his excellent skills at spotting, very useful, as we did most of the transects together. He would often know beforehand the preferred haunts of Markhors, and also anticipate their likely movements. While walking in the Limber valley he pointed out the place where he had, the year before, spotted a large group of forty Markhors.

Hirpora

Survey commenced on the 7th December and is generally timed to coincide with the onset of winter when Markhors descend to lower altitudes because of the cold and are more easily visible. I literally hit the ground running and was transported straight from the airport to the Hirpora Widlife Sanctuary along with the rest of the team. We were greeted with the sighting of a wolf on the side of the Mughal road, which passes through the sanctuary, waiting for the vehicles to pass. Split into smaller units, the team fanned out, conducting transects across the sanctuary over the next four days, but managed to get only a single sighting of three Markhors. Their population has almost halved, down from 70 in 2004 when the first surveys were conducted to about 30-35 in the recent times and the present tally was hardly encouraging. The destruction to the habitat caused by the construction of Mughal road and power transmission lines, and the continuing disturbance which followed, has mainly led to this decline. Grazing pressure also increased, as it has now became easier for the Gujjars and Bakarwals to reach their summer pastures, the numbers increasing with some even finding it expedient to sell their grazing rights or bring in additional livestock belonging to others. Being the winter season, we found their dhoks (summer dwellings) unoccupied. After the completion of survey, Samir paid a visit to their winter settlements in Rajouri to help them secure ‘Golden cards’ under the Aayushman health scheme, as a part of WTI’s outreach and goodwill initiative.

Kazinag

Kazinag national park, created with the amalgamation of Naganari, Limber and Lachipora  PAs, holds a significant population of 250-300 Markhors. As per the old hunting records, some of the finest heads were obtained from Kazinag mountains, including the one bagged by Col A.B Souter in 1929 with the longest ever horns at 65”. Quum, forester, pointed out to me the location of Kufr Nala, where this was shot, as being in Lachipora. We found a Markhor skull in Malangannala with horns measuring 52” over the spiral. I am told that there are some fine Markhor trophies dating back to British period in a mess building in Rampur Boniyar. Col Kinloch (Large Game shooting in Thibet, the Himalayas and Northern India, 1885) has written about communal hunts in Kashmir with animals being clubbed and axed to death in large numbers after being cornered in deep snow with the help of dogs, a practice which continued until fairly recent times. Interestingly, one evening, after heavy snowfall this winter, a Musk Deer entered the Babagail village in Limber valley, which was chased away back into the forest by the locals. I was also told that a few Markhors were found dead, buried in snow at Mithwain, a few years back. Incidents of poaching, virtually unchecked in the decades of conflict, militancy and social strife, has considerably reduced with increased vigil, restrictions on movements or carrying of firearms and greater awareness among the local communities and the troops deployed in this sensitive border area. Soldiers at the army check post, which lay deep inside the markhor territory in Lachipora, where we had to register each time we entered, would tell us of ‘jungleebakra’ with large horns often peering from the cliffs above them.

Sexual dimorphism in Markhor- males are roughly double the size of females and carry long spiralling horns Photo by Udayan Roa Pawar

It was in the Limber valley that I got my first Markhor sighting. Reaching Dragenduring one of our transects, we were alerted to the presence of Markhors by the clatter of stones from a dense patch of pine forest above us. Shabir, long familiar with their habits, suggested that a group was on the move and that we wait to allow them to emerge in the open. Meanwhile, we busied ourselves scanning the opposite slopes. It was a beautiful vista- the glittering crest of the Kazinag range rising above precipitous cliffs and steep slopes with patches of mixed conifers, and dense stands of Deodar at the bottom of the valley. Far away, on a wide ledge, we could make out the indistinct form of a large Markhor male, with its huge horns sticking above the scrub and grass catching our attention. A closer examination with binoculars revealed that it was accompanied by a younger male and three females grazing nearby. As time passed, I started discussing with Zakir, research scholar, about his study of carnivores in Kashmir and described my leopard sighting while entering the Kazinag sanctuary. If you rest at a place for long you tend to get languid, even thoughtful.The Markhors, having grazed for long, were now bedded comfortably on the grass like me, ruminating on the cud, and I on the future of their survival. Increasingly loath to move, we got busy scrolling and chattering on our cell phones, for we were getting good signals, unavailable at our base in the valley below. It was then that we were hoping for Markhors to come down, suddenly appeared in view! As we scrambled to get out our cameras from the backpacks we had cast aside, the Markhors(who were shocked as we were) dashed away. Feeling that they would have to climb up a rock face which lay in their path, I moved swiftly to a place from where I could get a better view. My anticipation proved right, as the male stopped for a moment on reaching its top to look back inquisitively, and I managed to get a few pictures before they disappeared. Excited, in vain we rushed after them up in the steep gully, unmindful of the thick thorny brushes, leaping across the boulders and fallen logs that the Markhors had cleared with ease. In the process we flushed out a group of Himalayan Monals, which suddenly rose in alarm with rapid wing beats and wild calls, flashing their metallic colours, as they glided down the hillside. Zakir, knowing the futility of the chase, and true to his calling, wisely spent the time collecting the fresh droppings, an obligation I completely forgot, for subsequent analysis at the lab. The sun had almost set, with the peaks catching the last glint, we trudged back towards our camp, weary and bruised, but happy and content.

In Lachipora, our surveys were confined mainly to the Malangan and Gujjar nalas, for the portions along the LOC were restricted. This was the peak of the mating season and I got to see few contests, involving a lot of chasing, shoving and butting. Some of the males were huge, carrying enormous horns which could be seen swaying even from afar as they chased the females or drove away their rivals. The sound of their clashes, as they locked horns with each other, would sometimes carry across the valley.

During the many walks on the trails we did together, Riyaz sir would often explain the various aspects of Markhor behaviour. During the winters, he explained, one tends to find them at lower elevations, driven by cold and snow. As spring slowly creeps up the mountains, so do the markhors, following the receding snow and feeding on the new sprouts that emerge, gradually working their way up to the higher pastures. Kidding occurs in late spring-early summer when the forage is plentiful, and the adult males eventually separate from the lactating females and young move to their summer abode in the upper alpine areas. However, the presence of large flocks of migratory livestock accompanied by herders and their dogs every summer,  severely disturbs their behaviour, pushes them to sub-optimal habitats and creates a serious threat to their very survival.

Goral in Lachipora, Photo by Udayan Rao Pawar

The survey had ended but it was decided to look for the missing flock of forty Markhors that had been seen last year. We had a prolonged spell of heavy snowfall brought about by a strong western disturbance, coinciding with the ‘chillaikalan’. It hampered our survey work, for it required great effort to walk. We would often sink waist deep in snowdrifts, but it was fun nonetheless. Visibility would often drop on a misty day, and once we mistook a Goral for a Markhor female. On clearer days, sightings of Cheer, Koklass and Kalij pheasants increased, for they were now more visible against the white snow background, but the rarer Western Tragopan continued to elude us.

Vivek Menon and Dr Rahul Kaul were to visit Kazinag, but I got stricken with Covid, and had to leave for home before they arrived.

I hope to be back again, before long.

 Udayan Rao Pawar is a young wildlife enthusiast and photographer with a fascination for high altitudes and remote wilderness areas. He had also bagged the “2013 Young Wildlife Photographer of the Year” award, from Natural History Museum and BBC Worldwide.