Debasis Bose
07-01-2014, 11:45 AM
This trip to Corbett was amazing and jaw dropping.
First three nights we stayed in the comfort of about 90 years old Malani forest rest house, nestled deep inside the core and about 20 km from Amdanda gate. As we motored along the meandering tracks of the jungle in our open-top Gypsy, the forest displayed out its full bag of tricks. Dappled sunlight played among the leaves of sal and bamboo-thickets, and created a thousand illusions. Tips of vegetation swayed in the breeze, and we wondered if we just missed a sighting. A warped stick looked amazingly like the antlers of a sambar or chital stag, and I excitedly tapped our naturalist on the shoulder, only to be given an indulgent smile and a shake of the head. Of course, false alarms apart, there were encounters aplenty. Other than deer, one can see nearly 550 or more bird species, sloth bear, leopard, jackal, pangolin, yellow throated marten, mongoose, wild jungle cat, leopard cat, cobra, python, mugger, gharial and elephant herd – if lucky the giant tusker, the largest mammal in the wild. These immense beasts are truly magisterial in appearance with their long white tusks, heavy muscular body with huge flapping ears, supremely powerful and arrogant. If your luck is in, you may come across a pair of bulls jousting by the roadside or meadow – a stately affair as the giant combatants spend hours in weighing each other and snorting their derision before actually engaging themselves.
In the serene surrounding with heavy air of intoxicating, indescribable aroma - heady concoction of a woody fragrance, the scent of flowers and leaves, the pure, clean smell of a forest older than time itself, there is a clear undercurrent of anxiety in this veritable Garden of Eden. We could see and feel that, the way the chital stop chewing the grass to listen and look all around them, their large ears perked up, the stumpy tails with white undersides twitching from side to side. It is visible in the intense gaze of the langur-watchman, the sudden stillness in the grazing sambar-hind or sudden panic movement of jungle fowls.
A movement in a distant bush, or a sound too many, and the jungle comes alive with thudding hooves and swishing branches as animals flee for cover, the air ringing with myriad alarm calls – the shrill cry of the chital, the throaty bark of the langur, or the bagpipe-like bellow of the sambar.
Peaceful as the jungle may seem, it is truly ruled by the hidden menace of the Tiger.
Supremely reclusive, seldom seen and rarely heard, the mystique of this majestic phantom predator is in the air all over Corbett tiger reserve. You may wander in the forest for days without getting a whiff of him, but signs of his presence are easy to see. Long rows of pugmarks on the loose soil by the roadside, scratch-marks on trees where the feline has sharpened its claws, and the occasional tiger-scat. Yet the tiger has a habit of showing up where you least expect him. Sightings are purely dependent on luck and can happen almost anywhere in the Park. And sometimes they are really up close – only few tigers at Corbett are comfortable with Gypsys, and walk past within a couple of feet of the vehicles. This was the case with us when the queen of Bijrani chaur decided to meet us without any sign or alarm call and both of us were amused by the presence of each other at a distance less than 10 m apart, and that can be easily visualized by the amused and bewildered stare of the tigress in the picture.
She majestically walked past in front of our gypsy and vanished into the shrubs that had grown at two meter height on a mud bank to the left of the forest road.
Don’t know what made her reward us with nerve chilling excitement that we never witnessed before. After the wonderful sighting, we drove past about 40 or 50 meters from the spot of sighting and stopped to watch few spotted deer’s grazing in the chaur to our right. Suddenly, without any warning, out of the blue like a canon shot she leapt out of the bushes from the higher left bank of the road over our gypsy bonnet straight on to the grazing chitals on right bank. The 150 kg mass moving like a canon ball caused the change in air pressure, could be felt by all of us. We were stunned amidst the continuous alarm call of spotted deer. It all seemed it was matter of only few seconds but the entire action from spotting to leaving the spot went on for 26 minutes. It was time for us to drive back to our FRH.
Nikon D700, Nikor 300mm F2.8, exposure 1/250, ISO 400, shot at 1604 hrs.
First three nights we stayed in the comfort of about 90 years old Malani forest rest house, nestled deep inside the core and about 20 km from Amdanda gate. As we motored along the meandering tracks of the jungle in our open-top Gypsy, the forest displayed out its full bag of tricks. Dappled sunlight played among the leaves of sal and bamboo-thickets, and created a thousand illusions. Tips of vegetation swayed in the breeze, and we wondered if we just missed a sighting. A warped stick looked amazingly like the antlers of a sambar or chital stag, and I excitedly tapped our naturalist on the shoulder, only to be given an indulgent smile and a shake of the head. Of course, false alarms apart, there were encounters aplenty. Other than deer, one can see nearly 550 or more bird species, sloth bear, leopard, jackal, pangolin, yellow throated marten, mongoose, wild jungle cat, leopard cat, cobra, python, mugger, gharial and elephant herd – if lucky the giant tusker, the largest mammal in the wild. These immense beasts are truly magisterial in appearance with their long white tusks, heavy muscular body with huge flapping ears, supremely powerful and arrogant. If your luck is in, you may come across a pair of bulls jousting by the roadside or meadow – a stately affair as the giant combatants spend hours in weighing each other and snorting their derision before actually engaging themselves.
In the serene surrounding with heavy air of intoxicating, indescribable aroma - heady concoction of a woody fragrance, the scent of flowers and leaves, the pure, clean smell of a forest older than time itself, there is a clear undercurrent of anxiety in this veritable Garden of Eden. We could see and feel that, the way the chital stop chewing the grass to listen and look all around them, their large ears perked up, the stumpy tails with white undersides twitching from side to side. It is visible in the intense gaze of the langur-watchman, the sudden stillness in the grazing sambar-hind or sudden panic movement of jungle fowls.
A movement in a distant bush, or a sound too many, and the jungle comes alive with thudding hooves and swishing branches as animals flee for cover, the air ringing with myriad alarm calls – the shrill cry of the chital, the throaty bark of the langur, or the bagpipe-like bellow of the sambar.
Peaceful as the jungle may seem, it is truly ruled by the hidden menace of the Tiger.
Supremely reclusive, seldom seen and rarely heard, the mystique of this majestic phantom predator is in the air all over Corbett tiger reserve. You may wander in the forest for days without getting a whiff of him, but signs of his presence are easy to see. Long rows of pugmarks on the loose soil by the roadside, scratch-marks on trees where the feline has sharpened its claws, and the occasional tiger-scat. Yet the tiger has a habit of showing up where you least expect him. Sightings are purely dependent on luck and can happen almost anywhere in the Park. And sometimes they are really up close – only few tigers at Corbett are comfortable with Gypsys, and walk past within a couple of feet of the vehicles. This was the case with us when the queen of Bijrani chaur decided to meet us without any sign or alarm call and both of us were amused by the presence of each other at a distance less than 10 m apart, and that can be easily visualized by the amused and bewildered stare of the tigress in the picture.
She majestically walked past in front of our gypsy and vanished into the shrubs that had grown at two meter height on a mud bank to the left of the forest road.
Don’t know what made her reward us with nerve chilling excitement that we never witnessed before. After the wonderful sighting, we drove past about 40 or 50 meters from the spot of sighting and stopped to watch few spotted deer’s grazing in the chaur to our right. Suddenly, without any warning, out of the blue like a canon shot she leapt out of the bushes from the higher left bank of the road over our gypsy bonnet straight on to the grazing chitals on right bank. The 150 kg mass moving like a canon ball caused the change in air pressure, could be felt by all of us. We were stunned amidst the continuous alarm call of spotted deer. It all seemed it was matter of only few seconds but the entire action from spotting to leaving the spot went on for 26 minutes. It was time for us to drive back to our FRH.
Nikon D700, Nikor 300mm F2.8, exposure 1/250, ISO 400, shot at 1604 hrs.