All for immediate action, let’s also find the right direction

Mass awareness is good news for conservation but mass prescription is not because science has no room for opinions or anecdotes

Bengal Post, 25 August, 2010

In a country where most people have an argument on most things, the list of subjects immune to opinion mongering is getting shorter by the day. Where even rather complex issues like the nuclear deal or the Kashmir problem are frequently “settled” on socialist cafes and social networking sites, little wonder the conservation broth has also found too many cooks eager to stir.

Granted, no amount of awareness is enough for the cause of biodiversity protection. But activism has a tendency to go on auto pilot. In conservation, such chances are twice stronger. It is not difficult to see why.

Wildlife biology is complex science, but not rocket science. A lay person understands little of both. But because he has never ventured to the space, he may not dare suggest how best to design a PSLV. However, a few forest safaris surprisingly qualify him to have his say on how best to fix the country’s conservation mess.

If you dare question these opinionated tourists, they are likely to stump you by quoting some “expert” or the other. Frighteningly, almost none of India’s popular green icons ever had anything do with wildlife or conservation sciences. Some of them are glorified wildlife tourists themselves; some others’ ex officio expertise materialised while holding key positions with the government or big NGOs. Only under such tutelage, the tradition of quick-fix activism could have flourished.

Over the last week, I have had three experiences that have left me a little shaken. First, I heard from Kolkata how wildlife activists hailed the state government’s decision to release 24 captive-bred spotted deer in Sunderbans so that tigers did not “drift into human settlements” looking for food.

Then, a message from the heartland of the country told me how the green community, outraged by a decision of Andhra Pradesh forest department to cull wild boars, were looking for foolproof methods, like electric fencing, to stop crop raiding.

Finally, I read how one of the most able and dedicated forest officer in Rajasthan was mauled by a “straying” Ranthambhore tiger because the department did not care to ensure safety measures necessary for tranquilisation.

These cases immediately triggered frenetic parleys on social networking sites, blogs and media headlines, but the fundamentals were lost in each instance. To understand how, let us ask a simple question: why man-animal conflict? The simple answer: either over security or food.

Animals attack in self-defence when surprised or confronted by people (who panic at the sight of animals). This can happen either when people enter forests or when animals move close to habitations looking for crops or cattle (food). While such attacks – goring by a boar or mauling by a tiger -- can sometimes be blamed on people trespassing inside forests, conflict over security is usually accidental.

But ungulates do not target crops – or carnivores seek out cattle -- accidentally. So why do animals go after non-forest food? Either because there is insufficient food in forests or non-forest food seems more attractive.

Assume the first scenario when animals are raiding crops or cattle because there is little food inside forests. If we stop their access to such non-forest food by electric fences etc, what will we achieve so different from culling? No food inside forest and no access to food outside will eventually bring down the population. If we are fine with death by starvation, what is the fuss over culling?

Moreover, it is very difficult to keep animals away with contraptions like electric fencing. If used locally, it diverts animals to the next village. If used extensively, it creates a fenced in natural zoo -- not exactly what conservation parameters demand.

Thankfully, it is not any forest famine but a better buffet outside that draws animals more often to foray close to human habitations. A cow is an easier hunt than a blue bull. Foraging in forests cannot offer tastier and more nutrient alternatives like sugarcane or maize.

The only solution to reduce such conflict is to reduce the availability of attractive food options. This requires change in land use and creation of a buffer zone so that crops do not stand, or cattle graze, at the edge of the forest. Promotion of non-edible crops also helps. Such measures will minimise but still not stop conflict. A few stray cases will still have to be taken care of by effective compensation schemes.

So where do these basics put the three cases mentioned above?

First, when we release 24 (or 240) deer in Sunderbans, where 400-plus cattle are available per square kilometer, and expect tigers to “stray” less frequently, even the big cats may not find it easy to maintain a straight face.

The move is clearly to dump surplus animals in Sunderbans in the garb of a conservation effort after failing to manage deer populations in captivity. The next lot of deer will come from squalid zoos and invariably carry tuberculosis infection. I do not know how many of these captive-bred cheetals will actually be taken by tigers, but bereft of any fear of humans, they will surely boost Sunderbans’ flourishing bush meat trade.

Second, if culling orders in certain states have shocked us, we better take a deep look within. Starving may not necessarily be a less clumsy solution than culling. Besides, we routinely tweak the natural order by mindlessly creating water holes etc to “help” animals and artificially boost numbers. The weak and infirm are supposed to die during the summer to maintain a naturally sustainable population. Animal welfare and wildlife conservation are two different things and we will be naïve to forget that.

Third, when we keep harping on why a Ranthambhore ranger was made to attempt darting without adequate safety, do we mean it would have been just fine if the tiger was wrapped up in a cage without any blood spilled anywhere? Or do we ask why one should at all consider tranquilising a tiger for killing a cow at the edge of the forest?

Do we ask why Ranthambhore animals still do not have some breathing space in an effective buffer? Or why an effective compensation scheme is not in place to take the villagers into confidence? Or why the forest department, the police and NGOs could not develop a system over so many years to manage angry mobs during such eventualities?

We either do not care to understand about the scientific imperatives of conservation or are wary of the challenges of implementing those basics on ground. For example, it is indeed not easy controlling mobs during a crisis. But look at Jammu and Kashmir, one of worst conflict affected states. Have we taken note of the state forest department’s initiative to engage local youth in Primary Reaction Teams (PRTs) in 150 villages to ensure that emotions do not boil over?

Instead, we are just content echoing the stereotype and hear ourselves echoed. “And I am you and what I see is me”…Pink Floyd would not be amused.

By Marx or maa, it's all about mati and manush

We do not have much of a political choice when it comes to defending whatever little remains of the wilderness

Bengal Post, 5 August, 2010

Not many remember that Karl Marx’s experience of defending the peasant's rights to gather dead wood made him shift from pure politics to economics and then to socialism. But trust the ruling coalition in West Bengal to know their Marx. So people’s right has always far outweighed environmental concerns during their two-decade-long stint in power.

But our so-called Marxists did not stop at exploiting what Marx defended as people’s right. They used it as a pretext and went on to cultivate vote banks, promote corruption and allow incompetence. As a result, the state’s natural resources and biodiversity have been reeling under the triple whammy of dangerous populism, mindless exploitation and a callous management.

No doubt these regressive trends hold true all over the country, to some extent or the other. But the West Bengal forest department cuts a particularly sorry figure. Riddled by the challenges of poaching, conflict and deforestation, this highly over-populated state with very little green cover seems to have already given up.

What else explains the construction of a mega tourism hub at Sajnekhali, bordering a waterhole? Or extracting soil from the forest or clearing mangroves to celebrate, of all things, 'forestry week'? It has been a month since these brazen irregularities were flagged in the media by concerned wildlife activists but probes ordered by the government are yet to order demolition of that scandal of a structure or fix any accountability.

However, the West Bengal forest department has a tradition of the absurd and those familiar with its ways would not be surprised at the turn of events in the Sunderbans.


Four years ago, I was in Buxa to look into claims that the reserve had lost most of its tigers. Then forest minister Jogesh Burman asserted that all was well and then field director LG Lepcha claimed the tigers of Buxa had crossed over to Bhutan. I thought he might as well explain if the tigers had gone on a vacation or had opted for a mass migration. I met him after spending four days that overlapped with an ongoing tiger census, in the field.

The census threw up just four pug marks, a few scat samples and a rare scratch mark – grossly insufficient to defend the last tiger count of 27. On my way to Lepcha, I met Rajeev Sharma, deputy FD (west Buxa), and he looked so down and tense that I did not feel like popping the dreaded question. The previous night, deputy FD (east) Shubhonkar Sengupta, a fine gentleman and possibly a good officer who had taken charge only two weeks back, conceded that he found “certain good management practices missing”.

A jovial host, Lepcha insisted I have lunch with him and cracked a few tiger jokes that were not funny. Halfway through the meal, I went for the jugular. But Lepcha was still smiling. "I know there are very few tigers here. But I can't bring it down at one go. So I decided to gradually cut down to a more realistic figure." A few minutes later, he said he would be happy to justify ten tigers. Then he came down to eight; then, seven. His smile was intact.

Suddenly, I cracked the puzzle.

Yes, Buxa was fast going the Sariska way. But Buxa would never become a Sariska. So long there were virgin forests in the contiguous stretches of Bhutan's Phipsu wildlife sanctuary, stray tigers would always be found on this side of the international border. Lepcha could inflate this very small floating population as per convenience and afford that smile.

I told him I had called his bluff but Lepcha still insisted that his tigers were away in Bhutan when, in fact, itwas Bhutan’s tigers saving him the blushes. Almost exasperated, I tried the original strategy. Why were Buxa’s tigers going to Bhutan? Why, wondered Lepcha, Bhutan’s forests must be so much nicer. I asked if he was accepting that Buxa was a disturbed, mismanaged reserve.

Lepcha’s smile broadened. “No, no, not mismanaged but very disturbed,” he leaned forward. “The forest department is doing very well. But there are more than 10,000 people in 37 forest villages inside the reserve. Now add about 70 tea gardens surrounding us with their labour colonies. Then, we have five security force camps. With so many disturbing factors, nobody can do magic in this forest. Oh, you are not having enough. Please try the sweet dish…”

I remember I obliged, silently. What could one tell an officer who so finely cut his responsibility.

Buxa was recently in news as the forest department celebrated a tiger sighting in the reserve. No, we do not know if it was a floater from Bhutan. But celebrations do not come easy at Buxa. Finding a tiger must have been easier than successfully ticking off an entry or two from Lepcha’s long list of “disturbing factors”.

Unfortunately, this could-not-care-less paradigm is now so well institutionalised as an accepted mode of governance in West Bengal that there seems to be little hope for forests and wildlife that readily translate into land and money.

Sold on their own brand of “materialism”, our so-called Marxists dig into Marx rather selectively. Otherwise, they would have remembered the following lines from Capital (volume 3, chapter 46): “Even a whole society, a nation, or even all simultaneously existing societies taken together, are not the owners of the globe. They are only its possessors, its usufructuaries, and, like boni patres familias, they must hand it down to succeeding generations in an improved condition.”

Of course, one does not expect such Marxian wisdom to suddenly dawn on the ruling coalition. Worse, the ruling-coalition-in-waiting is not sending any better vibes either. Already, Trinamool and SUCI are fighting the Left to take control of the green booty in Sunderbans. Acquiring land for people through deforestation being the biggest pay-off for both, there is little to choose between Marx-mati-manush and maa-mati-manush.

Mazoomdaar is a conservation journalist and filmmaker

Right Of Passage

Why should jumbos take underpasses and overbridges built randomly

Bengal Post, 24 July, 2010

So you thought you had had enough of elephant jokes? After all, it is almost 50 years since a few two-liners cropped up in Texas, triggering a cottage industry that soon had elite clients in the likes of Time magazine. And you thought it was impossible to milk those poor elephants for some fresh humour?

You underestimated our bureaucracy. An inspired bunch of officers have come up, perhaps unwittingly, with a brand new elephant joke that rivals the best in the long tradition in sheer incongruity.

The masterminds of Bengal forest department put their heads together with some do-gooders in Indian Railways and decided to construct several elephant underpasses and overbridges across the tracks between New Jalpaiguri and Alipurduar. If all goes according to plans, elephants, these officials want us to believe, will either burrow through these tunnels or climb the overpasses.

No doubt, this is a killer stretch that has claimed the lives of more than 30 elephants in the last 10 years. No doubt, the bureaucrats in question want to help the elephant and possibly also Indian Railways that suffers quite a bit of damage in such collisions. But good intention alone does not warranty a good solution.

Not too long back, the Supreme Court sought the view of the Wildlife Institute of India (WII) on the viability of constructing two elephant overpasses in Rajaji National Park where a national highway and a railway track must cut through the forest to keep Dehradun connected. When the amicus curie asked the WII chief if elephants would use the two proposed overpasses, he got a brief and simple answer: “Ask the elephants!”

Science is not astrology and scientists cannot compete with Paul, the octopus. Science seeks out future courses on the foundation of the past. In India, there has been no experiment with elephant overpasses yet and WII rightly refused to predict potential elephant behaviour. As a result, the apex court dumped the overpass plan and ordered construction of a 0.9 km elevated stretch (Motichur-Doiwala) of the highway so that the jumbos can walk freely on the forest floor. Work on this Rs 100 crore project is about to begin.

Of course, animal passageways are not uncommon in the West. All over Europe, Canada and the US, hundreds of underpasses and overpasses help reduce animal roadkill. But there is a catch. Most of these passageways are beneficial to and, in fact, meant for amphibians, invertebrates, badgers, ungulates and other small mammals. Some of the biggest animals to benefit from such artificial access are the mountain goat (Montana), the mule deer, elk, moose (Nugget Canyon), the bighorn sheep (Colorado) and the panther (Florida). But the elephant?

The only instance of elephants occasionally taking an underpass is in South Africa's Kwazulu Natal province. Kenya is building an underpass spacious enough to allow three elephants side by side but the experiment is still on. In India, elephant bulls were spotted trudging through the Dogudda aqueduct – kind of an underpass -- but matriarchal herds stayed away due to traffic disturbance on the Chilla-Rishikesh road.

So what is the problem? Elephants need space and are not likely to enter tunnel-like underpasses. The width and height of a structure are key factors. The length is important, too. Anything more than 20 metres and the elephants might be too suspicious to venture in. Effective funneling is another critical issue as is the positioning of such underpasses since elephants stubbornly stick to their routes.

An overpass may work if it is built by joining two hillocks -- the road passes underneath -- in a way that the natural alignment appears intact. It should be wide enough and covered in natural vegetation. Any vibration due to traffic flow will be a major turn-off. Any attempt to make overbridge-like structures on flat land, expecting the jumbos to climb artificial slopes to cross roads, is rather pedestrian.

As of today, nobody has a clear idea as to how elephants will react to artificial passageways. Since elephants cannot be consulted, the Supreme Court was wise enough to shot down the proposals for Chilla overpass experiment in favour of an elevated road. The same logic holds good for a railway track.

But should we not encourage experiments? Of course, we should. But experiment does not mean randomly building tunnels and overbridges for elephants and then waiting to see if they are used. Instead, we should experiment to find the most viable solution to animal kills on highways and railroads and that is possible only by a series of thorough ground studies.

For example, a team of Wildlife Trust of India found out that speed is not actually the biggest threat to animals. They crunched case data around Rajaji National Park and discovered that most elephants were run over by trains at spots where either the locomotive was coming around a bend or the track was flanked by sharp slopes. Specific interventions based on this knowledge have drastically reduced elephant casualties in Rajaji and also saved the railways a lot of damage.

Each site has its unique dynamics and demands meticulous studies leading to site-specific, long-term solutions. Till then, stock measures like fixing speed limits – as has been recently done along NH-37 in Kaziranga – are welcome as temporary reprieve. But certainly not outlandish ideas like building a series of tunnels and flyovers and then blaming elephants for not using those.

If our babus really want to make an elephant fly, they can start with procuring a 3-feet zipper. But they need not try to untie an imaginary knot in a jumbo’s tail to make it pass through a needle. I know, elephant jokes are not always funny.

Mazoomdaar is a conservation journalist and filmmaker