Listening Earth Blog

It is during our final morning in Bandipur that we have our most memorable encounter. The driver appeared to see them first. In an instant we were all aware that two leopards were crossing the track about 100 metres ahead. From that distance the span from nosetip to extended tail of the nearest one appeared to approximate the width of the track.

Singly and together, our emotions and needs focused. By the time we reached the spot where we estimated that the leopards had entered the scrub, they had disappeared. We move another twenty or so metres down the track and park the jeep. We notice the silence. The driver and guide are as excited as we are. It is rare to see Leopards, and rarer again to see two together, as they are solitary animals except for the three weeks they get together to mate. There’s a sense that we need to be extra alert – if we are all focussed on the one thing we may put ourselves in danger.

Andrew, Sarah and the guide grab their photographic gear and creep expectantly back along the track, their body language portraying their excitement and caution. As we watch them from near the jeep we notice their sudden, animated gestures that say simultaneously ‘Be quiet’ and ‘Look up there’.

One of the leopards is draped in the Y-fork of a tree some four or five metres above the ground, about twenty-five metres into the scrub. The paw of its leading leg is tapping the air as it rolls its head in time with its low growls. Movements just like a domestic cat playing with a ball of wool in the loungeroom.

Where’s the other leopard? The question bites everyone at the same time. Levels of alertness regroup, as zoom lenses stay trained on the leopard in the tree. After several minutes it lithely drops to ground level. The photographers take this cue to quickly move back to the vehicle. Their bodies are orientated so that they can look back over their shoulders and yet move forward toward safety. They look like kids who have just had their first scary ride at a fun park.

A small herd of Gaur eye us warily.

As Prue and I reflect upon our travels with Sarah and Andrew now, some months later, we truly value the roles they played as diplomats and mentors in showing us how to deal with the people, customs and bureaucracies in India.

Robyn Davidson, in her book ‘Desert Places’, about her travels in Gujarat, captures a sense of the bafflement of many western visitors to India:
“[It] was like being in a room full of mirrors. Just when you think you have worked out what reality is, you bump your head on glass.” (p. 32)

We were also aware that despite their earlier travels in India, Sarah’s and Andrew’s patience and determination in dealing with the necessities of every-day life were tested during this trip. Things such as seeking information, dealing with contradictory instructions, buying or changing train tickets, negotiating prices with auto-rickshaw drivers, queuing for service or suffering apparent indifference to your needs (‘I have a train to catch in five minutes!’). And, of course, gaining access to National Parks to make recordings in places where the sound of human activity would not infiltrate.

All of us were often left feeling worn down because it seemed harder than it needed to be to get things done. Again, as Robyn Davidson puts it:
“Why don’t people go mad; why don’t they stab and shoot each other as they do in America; why didn’t they pick petty bureaucrats up by the scruff of the neck and beat their brains out?” (Ibid p. 45)
An overstatement no doubt, but close to the mark.

Perhaps it’s because Indians regard ‘being’ as important as ‘doing’. Rather like the way Sarah and Andrew engage in their work at Listening Earth. It’s both their living and their life.

Our listening and watching with Sarah and Andrew in India was a great gift from them to us. It took the form of a reminder to do what you love no matter what sort of muddles and puddles you get into. And, especially, an invitation to listen to the world – it’s amazing what you hear and learn.

Two weeks after Sarah and Andrew finally returned home in Australia, we were all shocked to hear of the death of our friend KN, in an accident on his estate. We were privileged and honoured to stay with KN and his wife Shoba at their forest estate near Bangalore. Part of this privilege was to hear KN speak about his life, how he educated himself and became the ebullient, determined and visionary social ecologist that he was. It seemed in character that we learned how he had survived not one, but two, near-fatal cobra attacks. KN was larger than life, and his memorial will be the inspiration his life leaves for others, and the national parks he established in his home state of Karnataka.

Tags: Bandipur National Park, India, Karnataka, meditation music, natural sounds, nature CD, nature download, nature music, nature sounds, sounds of nature