Call of the wild

In the tigress’ den

I first saw Bandhavgarh and its tigers one unforgettable March morning. As we rode through the forest of sal trees, the stillness was suddenly broken by the alarm calls of langur and chital. The mahout halted the elephant, listened intently, turned us towards the calls, and then goaded the elephant into a quick pace.

Approaching the edge of the grassland and the nearby group of hills, we saw a movement in the grass. A beautiful tigress, drenched in morning dew, strode purposefully into the clearing, stopping to stare at our elephant.

I was told that she was called Sita by the forest department staff and the small band of dedicated naturalists that worked in the few camps that were then located at Tala, close to the main entrance of the park. Her two cubs had been following close behind, and on reaching Sita, they greeted her by rubbing their faces against her face, producing the distinctive sounds that only tiger cubs can make.

It was this captivating meeting with Sita—and the wealth of wildlife in this park—that convinced me that this location would be ideal for a film on her and her life in the forests of Bandhavgarh.

— Excerpted from The Bandhavgarh Inheritance, by Bittu Sahgal; Rs 2,150; Pp 161 (With permission from Sanctuary Asia).

Bear country

There are three bear species in the Indian region, the Brown Bear, the Himalayan Black Bear and the Sloth Bear. All three are formidable animals, which are frequently in conflict with man and are, therefore, often shot. The range of the Brown Bear is only just within the region, at high altitudes throughout the Himalayas. If food is scarce, it plays havoc with domestic flocks, although its usual diet is fruit, roots and rodents.

The Black Bear is still fairly numerous in the Himalayas, occasionally as high as the tree-line but more often at lower altitudes. Occasionally, a vagrant wanders as far south as Sylhet. Its footprints in the snow, with five clearly defined toes, are rather like those of a man, though the long claw-marks are easily distinguished. When the melting snow obliterates the claw-marks, the probable origin of the mythical Yeti remains for all to see.

— Excerpted from Wild India: The wildlife and landscapes of India, by Guy Mountford and Hashim Tyabji. Photographs by Gerald Cubitt; Rs 995; Pp: 208 (With permission from Roli Books)

Wings of love

Bird watching always presents an intellectual challenge because there are so many different species to identify. Moreover, some birds, due to their furtive nature, pose great difficulties for the bird watcher. Very often, one needs to put together bits and pieces of incomplete clues to come up with the proper identification. Problems of bird watching abound—sometimes most of the torso is hidden behind foliage or the moment you spot it, the tiny creature is all set for flight or the sun simply refuses to shine brightly enough.

— Excerpted from Common Birds of the Indian Subcontinent, by Ananda Banerjee; Rs 295; Pp 116 (With Permission from Rupa & Co)