Saturday, March 25, 2017

The 'Mountain Monarchs' of the Trans-Himalaya

The spotting scope is taking ages to set up.

Numb fingers, now encased in two pairs of gloves, twiddle ineffectively at various knobs and levers. When you think the scope is aligned properly, you peer through the eyepiece but all you can see is an expanse of snow. Tiny swirling snowflakes confuse your vision.

Finally I get a fix on the animal which must be at least a mile away. I fine-tune the focus ring, and suddenly the magnified image jumps sharply into focus. It has my complete and undivided attention.

When I pull back from the eyepiece I'm surprised to notice a long-haired youngster standing beside me. Three jeeps have pulled up behind our parked vehicle, on the track linking the high-altitude villages of Kibber and Chicham just off the Spiti valley.

'Can you see it?' he asks.

'Yes! I can see two adult males now. There are others too...'

Before I can complete the sentence he spins around in excitement, and rushes off to the three vehicles. Other youngsters tumble out from the jeeps, and are soon crowding around the scope.
It appears they are a different party from the convoy of jeeps we had encountered earlier in the day. For one, the vehicles are emblazoned with large decals stating 'Mountain Goat Adventures', or similar.

A large gentleman cannot contain his impatience - 'May I have a look?'

'Uh.. OK'.

He bends down to peer through the scope and immediately exclaims aloud - 'Arre, yeh toh barasingha hai' (which translates as - hey, these are swamp deer!)

We are, in fact, observing Ibex (Capra sibirica).




For some reason, and a puzzle to me at this particular moment, the whole group of strangers now looks immediately deflated. A couple of them take a cursory look at the Ibex through the scope, the others start to drift away.

 The first young man now asks me - ' Do you know where the snow leopard is?' 
Now with just a hint of reproach, 'I told them you were looking at two snow leopards - and that there were more' !!

I have to inform him politely that the snow leopard we had all been observing minutes earlier is farther back, below the track on our side of the hill.

The track here is too narrow to turn the jeeps around, so they reverse in much haste, the snow-covered surface causing one vehicle to lose traction and slide dangerously close to the edge, a shouted imprecation by one of the passengers at the errant driver is their departing memory...

When I later recount the incident to the others of our party they think I'm fibbing about the 'Mountain Goat Adventures' detail. The young adventure-seekers had ironically been able to observe real mountain goats (which is obviously what Ibex are) without realizing the significance. The 'barasingha' comment was rather like spotting penguins in the Sahara desert!






The Ibex are not just mountain goats - they are one of a species of 'Mountain Monarchs'.
Thus named by George B. Schaller in his seminal book - 'Mountain Monarchs: Wild Sheep and Goats of the Himalaya'.

We count 23 individuals in the herd, but there could have been more. Of these, at least 7 are adult males with their wonderful backward-sweeping ridged scimitar horns and characteristic beards. The females are far less bulky with straighter smaller horns.

The Ibex herd is foraging on a steep snow slope above the gorge. They can obviously see the snow leopard feeding on our side, and so they appear relaxed. Their only other natural predator in this habitat is the wolf. But they have confidence in being in the close vicinity of vertical cliffs, knowing that they can quickly escape to these rocky crags without danger of being followed there by any predator.

We watch through binoculars and the scope as they graze on the scanty vegetation (mainly shrubs and grass). At times they dig through the snow, exposing roots to feed on. It hardly seems possible that the Ibex can get adequate nourishment in this hostile terrain, but in fact they are superbly adapted to this habitat.

Evening is approaching, so with some reluctance we must head back to Kaza and to our home-stay for the night....



The other species of 'Mountain Monarchs' that we have encountered on the trip are Bharal or Blue Sheep (Pseudois nayaur).

Just a day earlier, while driving up the Spiti valley from Nako to Kaza we were lucky to see two different herds from the road.

 The first herd gave themselves away by the stones that were being dislodged as they clambered up a crumbling ridge that towered above the road. We were alerted by the intermittent pattering of pebbles as we slowed to peer up at the crest of the ridge. Several bharal were visible on the knife-like arete. But it would have been far too dangerous to stop here - at any moment a large stone or even a boulder could come shooting down.

To our great delight, just a few miles further on, another herd of bharal crossed the road a mere hundred yards from the vehicle. There were 10 individuals - a solitary male and his harem.

The wide Spiti river valley and the relatively gentle terrain allowed us to disembark unhurriedly and to observe and photograph the bharal without spooking them.





After reading an earlier post some folks have asked why I couldn't bear to look at the old snow leopard again. And I actually didn't, in the half-hour we were there.

Why the instinctive reaction - to have looked away as soon as I had taken a few photographs?

Could the reason have been that we were surrounded by a noisy group of people, within cellphone camera range of the snow leopard? Indeed, such a tableaux may be relatively common in our tiger sanctuaries. But here, surrounded by the vastness of snow and rock, it was an incongruity.

Or perhaps we subconsciously carry an image of such iconic species in the mind's eye - of their physical beauty, their grace, indeed just their 'wildness'?

These supremely shy big cats have evolved over millions of years in such hostile environs . Over generations, natural selection has ensured that their genetic make-up has favoured particular fitness and survival attributes that allow this apex predator of the Trans-Himalaya to survive in a world of snow and ice and rock. Indeed, to thrive at altitudes above 3700 M, and in temperatures often falling -20 C and below. Evolutionary instincts that have given them the stealth and cunning and strength to hunt the 'mountain monarchs' in this forbidding landscape.

But to come back to our 'Old Beast'. We know he is a very old male from his appearance and from the manner in which he feeds on the frozen carcass. Some may even suggest that he would soon be retiring to the Happy Hunting Grounds. I rest my case. RIP.

Next up is a report on the birds we saw, and a lovely sighting of a red fox...

sahdevsingh2004@yahoo.co.in

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Close encounters with the snow leopards of Spiti

19th February 2017 

We round yet another hairpin bend, and there it is.

An animal is framed in our headlights at the apex of the curve. It is perhaps closer than 20 yards from us. The legs and the tail are hidden behind a low-piled berm of snow at the edge of the road. A longish ghostly grey body is glimpsed briefly in the thickening snow flurries. And then it melts away from view - moving unhurriedly down a declivity as we remain frozen in the stalled vehicle.

Then pandemonium breaks out.

'Get the torch!'

'Where is it?'... 'in my bag' ... 'which bag?'... 'how do you get the bag open'...

Precious seconds are wasted as the torch is found. Four men tumble out in excitement from the vehicle.

A few hurried paces and then we are at the very point on the edge of the road where the animal disappeared. The torchlight illuminates a steep rocky slope now covered with a smattering of fresh snow.

And there it is again. Walking down and away from our vantage point in casual grace. Then it gains the curve of the road from where we have just ascended moments earlier. From no more than 60 yards away it turns to look back at us for several seconds, the eyes reflecting the light from the torch. The falling snow swirls and eddies around us.

And then the grey ghost vanishes from view.

We have our first sighting of a wild snow leopard, and we are technically still not yet in the Spiti valley.

Late in the day we have driven up from Khab, the magnificent confluence of the Spiti and the Sutlej rivers. The village of Nako is another couple of switchbacks away in the dark above us. We have the big one from the wishlist.

Not a bad start to our winter birding trip to the Trans-Himalaya!

But we are not finished yet with this first snow leopard. The tiredness from two full days of driving up from Jaipur has melted away. The vehicle is turned around and we go straight back down the hairpin bends to see whether we can surprise the animal again. Stinging wind-driven snowflakes are ignored as the torch is flashed from an open window. The terrain is open, yet the boulders (some snow-covered, others dark) provide perfect camouflage to the snow leopard. Let alone now in the dark, even in bright sunlight it could be just a few yards away and we wouldn't spot it. Reluctantly we turn back around.

Back again at the same hairpin bend on the road, we now cast around for spoor. A steep snow-covered embankment perhaps 25 feet high tells the tale. The mint-fresh pug-marks illustrate how the animal came down in a series of bounds to the road. CV points out that the hind paws have thrust into the same points in the snow as the front paws. There are softer single depressions in the snow behind the actual pug-marks - these were made by the end of a long bushy tail thumping into the snow to aid its descent.

The adrenaline rush would see us through an uncomfortable night in Nako.

21st February 2017

The previous day we have driven leisurely up the Spiti valley from Nako to Kaza. The weather forecast has proved incorrect, and we have encountered alternating periods of sunshine and overcast conditions with occasional snow flurries. Birds have popped up at regular intervals and have kept us alert. H has rattled off the ID's of unfamiliar species. Two herds of bharal (blue sheep) seen from the road  have allowed us longer pit-stops to observe and photograph them.

We have comfortable rooms at a home-stay in Kaza for three nights.

Today the morning has broken crystal clear. Naturally it is much colder. Despite the heroics of S (who has not only driven these treacherous roads and but has also woken at nights to turn the engine of his vehicle to prevent the engine going cold), today we can't get the vehicle started. The diesel in the tank has frozen overnight.

And so, much of the morning has gone in heating the fuel tank with a primus stove, and in pouring boiling water over assorted pipes and pumps.

When we do get started for the village of Kibber, the sun reflects brilliantly off the frozen landscape. But as often happens, trouble comes in pairs. Only a few miles from Kaza, we have to stop again. Now the radiator coolant is boiling over.

From L to R (Sahdev = the author; Happy = CV; Somendra = S; Harkirat = H)
(Unaware at this moment that our vehicle will soon be hors-de-combat for a while) 
(photo courtesy - Somendra)

 Soon a convoy of jeeps overtakes us. Each vehicle has adventurous youngsters armed with walkie-talkies and other sophisticated gear. We cadge a bottle of water from them, return to Kaza, get on some bottles of coolant, and head back out to Kibber again.

Kibber has been in the news for occasional snow leopard sightings in the winter months for several years. We already have a tick on our bucket list from our first sighting near Nako, but secretly we all want a good look at a snow leopard in daylight. This could be the day. But you have only to remind yourself of Peter Matthiessen's 'The Snow Leopard', in which the author in the company of the great field biologist George Schaller, fails to actually see a snow leopard over weeks of wandering the higher Himalayas in Nepal.

On the left bank of the Spiti river is Key monastery.

From here the road narrows and loops on towards Kibber which at 4200 M is higher than Kaza (3700 M). On another off-track leading from Kibber to Chicham, in the far distance we can see some figures getting off a parked vehicle and scrambling down a steep slope. They look animated. Some of them are gesticulating towards a gorge in the background. Soon other vehicles line up behind the first, and a steady stream of people work their way down the snow slope. We decide to investigate what the excitement is all about. 

One person has just climbed back on to the road. On being asked what can be seen down below he replies - 'there is a snow leopard on a kill!'

Whaaat! 

I'm quite sure we get off the vehicle far quicker than from the time of the first sighting. In the excitement I make two small mistakes. First, I forget my gloves. Try not to laugh, but I'm actually carrying three pairs on the trip: a thin fleece inner, a woolen pair, and a leather outer. All forgotten in my haste. Second, in my bare hands I'm now clutching a spotting scope and a tripod - not really a mistake at that very moment, but in hindsight painfully so. After all, most snow leopard sightings are from hundreds of yards away, sometimes from miles away. So, the spotting scope is a necessity I think.

We have only a short steep descent to join a vocal excited group. The trick is not to follow the exact same well-trodden snow-compressed track which is now quite slippery, but instead to dig ankle-deep into the virgin snow and gain a firmer purchase on unfamiliar terrain.

A small knot of people is gathered at the edge of the gorge. I prepare to set up the tripod and the spotting scope in order to scan the opposite cliff-face. All my fingers are numb, and alarmingly my right thumb is now turning a strange shade of blue - purple even. Not good.

I turn to the nearest person - 'where is it?'

 He leans forward and nods his head -'there'.

A snow leopard is sprawled across his kill on a shelf a mere 20 yards directly below us!


So much for the spotting scope! At this distance we do not even need our binoculars to look at the snow leopard.

It is an old male. A very old male. 

I take a good glance at it, click a couple of photographs, and then I can't bear to look at it again. A strange thing to report but that is how I feel at this moment. 

I hope to explain why. And to write about a large herd of Ibex, two herds of bharal, a red fox, and of course about the birds of the trip in the next post.

sahdevsingh2004@yahoo.co.in