IN the highlands of southeastern Tibet, the Yarlung Tsangpo river makes a u-turn and becomes the raging Brahmaputra. >From this point the river flows westwards through Assam before turning south through Bangladesh. In the course of its journey it creates a lush wildlife habitat that compares with that of the Gangetic plains.

Towards the end of the year, once the floodwaters of the Ganga and Brahmaputra have receded and the grassy plains are once more exposed, the mega fauna return from the high ground where they had retreated during the monsoon. Here on the plains, from about November onwards, they eat and mate. One of the best places to observe them is the Kaziranga National Park in the far northeastern province of Assam, an area of more than 500 square kilometres. The annual flooding of the Brahmaputra has produced rich a grassland that is home to some 1600 Indian one-horned rhinos – half of the world’s wildlife population of this species. There was a time early last century when the population sank as low as twelve. The dramatic recovery can primarily be traced to the protection given to the rich grasslands.

The sweep of grassland is interrupted by pockets of semi-evergreen forest – deep, dark and dense, with luxuriant strands of cane. Around its edges tigers, dense in number, stalk their prey. Open-billed storks, black-necked and white necked storks, adjutant storks, spot bills, teals and hundreds of grey headed and Pallas fishing eagles all feast on fish. It is a paradise for birds of all types. Some notes from my diary give a flavour of the atmosphere and the wealth of wildlife to be found here.

I am sitting atop a watchtower on Bahubil in Kaziranga. At the edge of the water a group of 20 pelicans fish furiously from one side to the other. On the far side I see ten otters scampering across the land into the water, heads bobbing up and down they start to fish. Overhead a grey headed fishing eagle swoops into the water and comes out with a three kilo fish caught firmly in its talons. A lesser adjutant stork spears another fish in the shallow water. Suddenly, on the far side, the grass moves and out comes a female rhino with her calf. They look around and immerse themselves in the shallow water. I scan the far horizon with my binoculars and discover three hog deer grazing in the grass, and further afield, a group of swamp deer. A herd of wild buffalo are busy grazing the edges of the water. Four of them settle down near the bank. A vast bull walks menacingly towards a younger animal. This is probably a scene unchanged for hundreds of years.

The quiet of the evening is shattered by the sharp alarm calls of the hog deer. I scan the grass hoping for the magical appearance of a tiger, but cannot spot a stripe. At dusk a large tusker appears and enters the water in an effort to wallow, and attempts a bottoms-up posture as he sinks his tusks into the mud. Again, alarm calls resound and I have visions of a tiger attacking a buffalo. A forest guard whispers in my ear that when the pelicans come to nest, the tiger waits nearby, and if the chicks fall he gobbles them up. Tiger eating pelican! What an image that conjures up.

 

A few months later, from the Bahubil tower I had the extraordinary luck to witness an enormous tiger being chased, first by a rhino and then by a wild buffalo. Later in the afternoon the tiger stalked a group of hog deer, unsuccessfully. But I had encountered the great giants of Kaziranga interacting, and for me it was like a dream come true.

Today, Kaziranga is home to a thriving tiger population. Ullas Karanth, a scientist studying tiger densities, believes that the park can boast of the highest density in India; nearly seventeen tigers to every hundred square kilometres. A number of giants – rhinos, elephants, wild buffalo and gaur (wild oxen) – also share this land with countless hog deer, swamp deer, sambar deer and much else. The park seems to me a veritable Noah’s Ark: lesser and greater pied hornbills screech through the air, turtles bask in the sun, otters race across large sheets of water, competing with thousands of pelicans for the vast amounts of fish, rhinos stand as if transported from some prehistoric age, and swamp partridges strut around the edge of the grass.

 

Pockets of forest within the grasslands are a frenzy of greens as all that grows is coiled, looped and encircled in an endless embrace. Red jungle fowl streak across the entangled foliage and orchids sprout from the branches in flashes of magenta and pink. Giant animals have made so many paths through the grasslands that the smaller herbivores have few problems in finding grazing pastures. Here is a true network of life, a food chain that has been alive for centuries. If you remove one species, it could cause real problems for another. In the hilly forests nearby there are still troops of hoolock gibbons and capped langurs, and some even say there could be the elusive clouded leopard. In between the forest and grasslands is an array of birds, including emerald doves, imperial pigeons and kingfishers. I once spent eight hours driving through this forest and lost count of rhinos after reaching a hundred. Alongside were plenty of elephants and wild buffaloes. As the sun sets and darkness falls, the grass comes alive with the glow of fireflies. They are like a blanket of light that ignites the night.

The web of grassland, woodland, cane, lake and river survives in Kaziranga thanks to the dedication of the armed forest guards who live for six months of the year in this watery habitat, protecting the area from the constant onslaughts of poachers. Guard posts are built on stilts because of the floods, each with a cat to deal with the rats. Each post also has a shrine to the goddess Durga and her vehicle, the tiger. On special days, and before and after a patrol, the forest guards seek her blessing and protection in their anti-poaching endeavours. They spend most of their time patrolling the wet grasslands in search of poachers, ever alert to the sound of gunfire. Every year gun battles rage with poachers, and many of these guards have sacrificed their lives to protect the forest. Kaziranga is the best protected National Park in India, a model that sadly few other areas are able to follow. The forest guards are some of the most courageous in India. They told me that at the height of the floods, snakes often climb into the guard posts for safety, and man and snake live together, knowing that neither will attack the other. Similarly, other animals, often adversaries, abide together peacefully on higher ground, all waiting for the water to recede.

 

At the edges of the Brahmaputra the receding waters create great islands of grass that become breeding grounds for floricans, hog deer and swamp deer. This is also where the tiger is most active. Many factors contribute to the areas’ natural wealth – floods bring nutrients that enrich the soil, multitudes of fish fill the waters, man-made fires burn the grasses and create lush new growth, and animal movement to higher ground during floods allows the grass on the flood-plains to renew itself. This cycle of life supports high densities of predator and prey populations.

Although the tiger is the dominant predator throughout the subcontinent, in these grasslands it sometimes comes into conflict with the giant herbivores. Great battles are fought between tigers and wild buffaloes. Tigers have been known to prey successfully on buffaloes – huge creatures, weighing upto 900 kilograms – but there have also been cases of tigers being gored to death by buffalo and rhino.

One morning at dawn – and in the northeastern part of the subcontinent it comes very early – I suddenly confront a rhino, who wheels around to charge the jeep. The rhinos in these grasslands are aggressive and like the elephants do not tolerate human beings in close proximity. Fortunately, this rhino changes its mind and veers off into the undergrowth.

 

Cave paintings in central India, which date back 10,000 years, prove that rhinos have existed in the subcontinent for a very long time. The Indus Valley civilization documented them 5000 years ago, and there are records of hunts on the frontiers of Kashmir in the fourteenth century. It was about 500 years back that the great river basins created the pockets of grassland and expanses of water which are essential for their survival. At that time the Indian subcontinent could boast all three Asiatic species of rhino – the Javan rhino, the Sumatran two horned rhino and the great one horned rhino. Today, only the last survives – in pockets in the east of India and parts of Nepal – where once it populated the entire Gangetic plain.

Folklore and superstition surround the rhino, from the medicinal and aphrodisiacal properties of its horns to the magical qualities of its flesh and blood. Rhino urine, considered a vital antiseptic, is also believed to act as a charm against ghosts and evil spirits. Keepers in various Indian zoos have been offered large sums of money by visitors to wet handkerchiefs in rhino urine for use in various cures! Unfortunately, the high value placed on rhino products has led to their decimation by poachers across the Indian subcontinent and throughout Southeast Asia.

Prehistoric in appearance and seemingly armour-plated like a tank, rhinos require a lot of serious eating and rumination to keep them going. Studies of their feeding habits reveal that they feed on nearly 200 species of plants from over 50 botanical families. The presence of the rhino reflects the health and diversity of the grasslands.

Adult rhinos are solitary, with both sexes living within a territory and coming together only to mate. Males tend to be more exclusive about their ranges than females. They mark them out by spraying strategic points with urine, which they can squirt over distances of four metres. They also rub their horns on bushes, make parallel furrows by dragging their hind legs on the ground, and defecate at strategic spots to discourage potential intruders.

 

During mating the bull becomes highly aggressive, and conflicts between male and female are common. Bulls often use their sharp teeth to inflict serious wounds on other males and have even been known to kill solitary young males whom they presumably regard as rivals. The rhino’s thick skin offers some protection from injury, but it is not impenetrable; despite its appearance, it can actually be quite soft.

Females come into oestrus at any time of the year. Copulation can last an hour or two, during which time the bull will ejaculate fifty or sixty times. The female has to bear the two tonne weight of the bull and there have been cases of young female dying from spinal injuries sustained during mating. Females have their first calf around the age of seven, and thereafter can give birth every three years. Calves are born throughout the year, and although weaned in twelve months, continue to live with their mother for three to four years, often until just before the birth of the next calf. Independence is acquired gradually, a few days at a time, until the calf leaves for good. Tigers in Kaziranga regularly kill rhino calves – up to eight such deaths a year have been recorded – but suffer the wrath of the mothers in return.

Adult rhinos look superficially alike, but males are larger and have a thicker horn, often with the tip broken. A keen observer can recognize individual rhinos by variations in horn and ear shape, or by cuts, scars and other irregularities in the folds of their bodies.

 

Another giant of the grasslands is the wild buffalo, which can stand two metres at the shoulder, weigh more than four tonnes and have horns over one metre long and 2.5 metres across. Once distributed across the large rivers and their tributaries in the Gangetic plain and right upto the flood plains of Assam, the buffalo is now found only in small parts of Assam and in Bastar, central India. There are also small populations in parts of Nepal where the grasslands are relatively undisturbed. The total population does not exceed 2000.

Reed brakes, grass plains and swampy land are the buffalo’s habitats. It can spend hours lying on the banks of a river before submerging itself in the water. It ranges over a wide area, travelling long distances while grazing.

The buffalo’s rutting period starts late in the autumn and continues into the new year. Bulls tend to be solitary, associating with a herd of females and sub-adult males only when a female is in oestrus. Then the males may clash viciously over the female in question. Both males and females, although shy of humans, can be aggressive towards intruders. If the calves are approached by a predator, especially the tiger, their mothers form a protective front. Buffaloes frequently snort and stamp if threatened, but can attack viciously if suddenly confronted. They have certainly been known to kill tigers, charge rhinos and chase elephants. They also gore several human intruders to death each year.

I once spent an hour sitting atop an elephant watching rhinos, buffaloes, swamp deer, boars and hog deer enjoying the water. On top of one giant you can get very close to others, without fear of reprisal, particularly if they all like to wallow. The mud protects their skins from the burning sun and biting insects.

 

If the existence of rhinos indicates the health of the habitat, so does the presence of hog deer (para) and swamp deer (barasingha) – two other residents of these lush grasslands. The hog deer is distributed right across the grass plains from west to east and into Myanmar, favouring riverine tracts, open grasslands and river islands where the grass is not too high. Hundreds of thousands once roamed the flood plains and terai, but as the habitat fragmented due to agricultural encroachment, populations declined sharply.

Stout, speckled and brown-coated, the hog deer stands barely 60 centimetres at the shoulder. It probably gets its name from its squat, rotund shape and the way it holds its head very low like a pig. It also moves with a rather lumbering, porcine gait. It is generally solitary, although a pair may frequent the same spot for long periods and in Manas sanctuary on the India/Bhutan border in Assam thousands have been known to congregate together. Wary, alert and nervous, it has a high pitched alarm call which warns others of the presence of predators.

I have spent long hours observing these deer, from the Corbett National Park in the western foothills of Uttar Pradesh to Manas in the east. I believe that their pastures are created by the grazing habits of elephants, rhinos, wild buffaloes and even gaur, and that their survival is linked to the survival of these large animals. Small herbivores follow in the steps of giant herbivores. Where the elephant population has suffered a sharp decline and the rhino has become extinct, as in Dudhwa, the grass may grow so high that small herbivores find it impossible to graze. Consequently, populations of animals such as the hog deer and swamp deer have rapidly declined. There are now fewer than 5000 swamp deer left in the wild

Being primarily grassland animals, swamp deer move away from their favoured habitat only when the water rises on the flood plains. At that time much feasting is done in adjacent crop fields.

 

There are three subspecies of swamp deer: one found in the grasslands and forests near the India/Nepal border, another in the swamps of the terai and Assam, and the third further south on the hard, open ground in Madhya Pradesh. Specially adapted to alluvial grasslands, they are highly gregarious – a few kilometres of swamp can contain hundreds of individuals. A dominant stag with well developed antlers commands a herd of female and young. Other adult males form ‘stag parties’ or bachelor groups.

The onset of winter brings the rut, and rutting stags are frequently found wallowing in the swamps, uttering hoarse braying calls. There is little serious conflict between adult males – the dominant stag attains and defends his position more by posturing than fighting. One means of achieving this end is to cover his antlers with tussocks of grass to make them look even more impressive. They are already startling enough – the name barasingha means ‘twelve horns’, and a male’s antlers have at least twelve prongs.

 

This is a good time for the females to be pregnant. The grass grows tall and lush in the newly drained swamps, and the cool weather means there are fewer biting flies to pester them. As spring comes and temperatures rise, the males shed their antlers and both sexes lose their long winter coat, in preparation for the approaching hot summer. The young are born in the spring and hidden among the long grass; had they been born at the height of the monsoon they would have been vulnerable to predation by crocodiles. But their future survival is dependent on how effectively we protect their surroundings. Every year, under enormous pressure from agriculture, some of this habitat vanishes.

These are just a few glimpses into the remarkably rich life that is Kaziranga, a place that takes away one’s breath. As I gasp in its beauty there is a deep realization that this is more than just a world heritage site. It is in places like Kaziranga that one feels mesmerized by nature, realizing that we humans are just a tiny part of the larger scheme of things. Kaziranga has shades of Africa and such places give one a strange sense of being rooted to the earth – a feeling of having evolved from such places. These unique ecological systems must live forever and let us hope that political will, usually abysmal, ensures the future of places like Kaziranga right across our planet.