Parambikulam panorama

Within minutes of passing the flaming red signboard welcoming us to the Parambikulam Wildlife Sanctuary, we were coasting along through a de...

Within minutes of passing the flaming red signboard welcoming us to the Parambikulam Wildlife Sanctuary, we were coasting along through a dense, ominously silent teak forest extending endlessly into the distance. Two peacocks, preoccupied with preening themselves, obligingly posed for us beside the road, quite unfazed by our nearness. So were the 20-odd chital wandering aimlessly nearby; they seemed more curious than timid. Obviously, they8217;ve become used to the presence of humans, a welcome development implying that familiarity does breed trust among certain species.

A small, bedraggled bundle abandoned in the middle of the road turned out to be a young hare, injured and quite helpless. Stopping the car, our conscientious guide carefully picked it up and placed it in the grass lest a vehicle run over it 8212; only to see a huge kite swoop down, snap it up in its talons and sail away. The raptor, apparently, had been preying on the hare.

En route the dilapidated and crumbling quarters of the forest staff 8212; veritable eyesores 8212; sharply contrasted with the lushly verdant surroundings. Accommodation-wise, the wildlife here is certainly far better off than their guardians! Living in such hovels, I reflected, how could the staff be expected to give of their best? Not surprisingly, their morale appeared to be low.

Further on we passed the shimmering reservoir of the Thunakaddavu Dam 8212; a favourite watering-hole for wildlife. A lone tribal fisherman slowly rafted along, laboriously casting his net. Fishing in a wildlife sanctuary is usually prohibited, but here the local tribals have traditionally enjoyed this privilege 8212; and rightly too. For it supplements the precarious livelihood they eke out of the jungle.

Surprisingly, we found cattle grazing unchecked in the sanctuary, home to a large gaur population. I recalled that years ago an outbreak of rinderpest among cattle at Marayoor near Munnar had spread to a herd of gaur sharing the same grazing grounds, all but wiping out the latter. Hopefully, the forest authorities are alive to the grave risk.

And then, appropriately enough, we espied an enormously horned head sticking out of the shrubbery. It was a lordly-looking bull gaur, its jaws chomping away. The epitome of brute strength, its well-muscled flanks rippled as it slowly emerged on to the road, menacing and resolute, never taking its eyes off our car. For a few minutes it sized us up, its tufted tail swishing. Then it raised a white-stockinged foreleg and imperiously stamped a clear warning twice: get lost! Fearing an attack, we quickly backed away.

Our tryst with Parambikulam had ended prematurely 8212; and unceremoniously.