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Journalism of Courage
It8217;s not merely rejuvenating. My solo strolls through Munnar8217;s tea gardens also enable me to pursue a pleasurable, though sometimes risky, pastime 8212; tracking wildlife, quite literally. I like trailing them but, thankfully, they don8217;t reciprocate!
Scanning the ground, I saunter along looking warily ahead every now and then, for one never knows what lurks around the corner. Often I come across patches of earth ploughed up by wild pigs and pockmarked with their splayed hoofs. In their endless search for succulent roots and tubers, they sometimes even tear up our lawn.
Canine tracks always fox me. It8217;s hard to distinguish between those of wild dogs and local mongrels; their pugs are so alike. But when I see small, elongated tracks with pointed toes, I know they8217;re a porcupine8217;s. And a patch of earth with its topsoil scratched away is, of course, the work of foraging jungle fowl. More positive proof of their presence are the snares baited with grain that I chance upon now and then!
The other day I found fresh cattle tracks on a path winding through a tea field 8212; apparently, a cow had strayed from the workers8217; colony near by. Following the tracks, I heard an unfriendly snort. Alarmed, I glanced up to find a huge gaur with massive horns munching a mouthful of shrubs and eyeing me coldly. It was uncomfortably close and clearly resented my intrusion. Caught snooping, I hotfooted it to escape an 8216;occupational hazard8217;. For once I was on the wrong track!
