Our last morning at Nagzira. If we are to obtain any further recordings here, this will be our last opportunity. We decide to make for the narrow valley, and arrive there just after dawn. The birdsong is subdued, but in hopes that it will pick up once the first sunlight hits the jungle, I set up the microphones. Radisham squats with me as we plug in the gear and begin listening. We have a problem. I’m hearing something amplified through the mics I don’t want to hear – hindi pop music, probably played through a bull-horn speaker and drifting from a nearby village. Radisham can hear it too now, and he gives me a happy head wiggle. Its Sunday, village holiday.

Knowing this location will be useless, we move to another likely spot, but the music is equally audible there too. Fighting off despondancy, I notice a small track that leads around the shoulder of a hill, and it occurs to me that it may afford some acoustic shelter. However Radisham tells me the road is closed, “not permission”. We compromise. Leaving the car on the main track, I walk the few hundred meters around the hill, place the recorder and walk back.

This strategy is surprisingly successful, with the microphones left in the forest to collect the surrounding ambience, I record around two hours of beautiful birdsong.

Nagzira morning birdsong, with Pigeons, Parakeets, Langurs, Fantails, Prinias & Oriole.

Returning to the canteen, we meet up with a radiant Rajeet. He has seen his second tiger, and this time used his mobile phone to record it walking slowly along the forest track in the half light. We’re delighted for him, he’s been a great companion and has patiently awaited a sighting of the great animal.

By now, Satish is reminding us of someone else. We start calling him 007, Satish Bond; charming, suave, and invincible behind the wheel. He loves it, and great mirth ensues. That afternoon, we return to Nagpur ready for tomorrow’s flight to Gujurat. Satish is dumbfounded that after all the problems we still give him a substantial tip. We are treated with a last beaming smile before he leaves us.

Tomorrow will be the beginning of our time exploring the desert landscapes of the Rann of Kutch. And it will also be Christmas Day, somewhat of a non-event in most of India. It seems a fitting way of summing up our time Maharashtra, in which so many of our efforts have led to anti-climaxes. We have approached each day as a precious opportunity to gather recordings and images, and so the disappointments have been heartbreaking for us. Nevertheless, it has been a rich experience, both in terms of our engagement with nature and insights into Indian culture and character. More than anything though, we have learned about ourselves, how to balance action with acceptance, responding to situations positively without exhausting ourselves in indignant frustration. Reflecting on all this now, viewing the photographs and listening to our recordings, we realise that our days at Nagzira have not been as ‘fruitless’ as we had once thought.

(We anticipate publishing some more of our recordings from Nagzira in the near future)Tweet

Satish is under the rear of the vehicle attempting to release the spare. At this point I should point out that Satish’s appearence is usually immaculate, with starched shirts, a comb ever ready in case of a stray hair, and a ring on every finger. So he’s not enjoying wrestling with the completely rusted bolt holding the spare tyre in place. I have a look myself; the spare is beyond bald, with strips of radial ply steel showing through in places. It doesn’t look like we should risk going anywhere on it. Satish emerges defeated, his hands covered in grime. To cap it off he’s scraped his finger slightly and holds it up for Sarah’s sympathy. “Injury” he says.

Radisham comes to the rescue with a plan. They’ll remove the flat tyre, borrow a motorcycle, and together ride into the nearest town to get it repaired and be back “in an hour”. We know it is an hour into the nearest town alone, so we are already kissing another morning goodbye. As they happily depart, laughing like kids and rolling the dead tyre along with a stick, we are struck by an association – who do they remind us of? We amuse ourselves by concluding that they are like an Indian Mr Bean or Jim Carrey duo, who have not the slightest realisation of the havoc they cheerfully wreak on those around them. By the time they return four hours later, it is too late for any safari.

Read on: Day 6Tweet

Then I see the lights come on nearby at Rageet’s lodge. He’ll be preparing for an early departure too, so I make my way over there and ask his assistance. He drops me off at the canteen and sure enough, there they are fast asleep. Rageet’s guide ‘kicks them out of bed’ with a barrage of stern language, while I stay silent. Satish in particular looks sheepish and they both keep to themselves. I am sure that they have simply not appreciated how important an early start is to us. It is very difficult to know what to do in circumstances such as these. To get angry does not go down well in many Asian cultures, but to just take it in one’s stride and say nothing often encourages even more problems.

We pick up Sarah and our gear and head into the forest, aware that we’ve already missed the predawn birdsong. So, another hasty change of plan; we’ll head for the riverine area and spend the morning there. Luckily this spot turns out to be a winner, with a variety of Pigeons, Bulbuls, Flameback Woodpeckers, Orioles, Prinias, Fantails, Drongos, heaps of small birds and best of all, a pair of Hornbills. This is our first good morning of recording at Nagzira.

However Sarah, staying back at the vehicle, has been having more problems trying to keep Satish and Radisham quiet. Repeatedly shushing them is having little impact. Its difficult to be stern with them, as they are having such a good time together and becoming friends in a way that only Indian men can. The physicality and intimacy they are displaying is commonly seen between young men in many Asian cultures. Yet whilst Sarah and I are familiar with this, and know it doesn’t imply anything less than innocent, nevertheless we can’t help feeling that perhaps we should be ‘looking the other way’. Now they are sitting in the back of the vehicle, heads together whispering in each other’s ear, sharing confidences. Satish is holding Radisham’s hand and tracing out letters on it. When I finish recording they emerge and walk toward me with broad smiles, arms around each other. It is time to talk.

“Guys, you have caused us a big problem this morning”… They’re looking sheepish again. “We are employing you to do two things: be available when we need you, and be quiet when we need you to, do you understand?” Heads nod. They can see I’m not angry with them, and the big grins return.

Meanwhile Sarah has come up with an obvious strategy; when we’re recording we simply separate them, Radisham can stay with me and Satish with the car. On the way back we try it out, with partial success. Unable to converse, Satish occupies himself with a spontaneous burst of car polishing.

That afternoon we discover another likely location, a narrow valley in among the hills, and plan to return there in the morning. Satish is beaming that evening; “Tomorrow morning sir, five and a half!!”

Read on: Day 5Tweet

Grey-headed Fish Eagles.

Over breakfast Rajeet explains the debacle: his family is friends with the local Range Field Officer, who originally gave him permission for our excursion. However a few months ago a new Divisional Field Officer had been appointed, and to assert his superiority he had decided to countermand this permission. So we are indeed grounded for the day. With nothing better to do we sit around the canteen, I get some nice photographs of Flameback Woodpeckers patrolling nearby tree trunks, and we are shown a pair of Collared Scops Owls roosting right outside our lodge.

That evening, on the balcony of our accommodations, we have Nightjars circling us and calling in the twilight. Another nice recording. Our lodge is turning out to be a better recording location that the forest!

I am becoming fascinated by the diversity of Indian owls in this area. Every dawn and dusk there is an owl ‘happy-hour’; a chorus of Jungle Owlets, Spotted Owlets and Scops Owls calling near and far. After hearing these calls at various locations across India over recent weeks, I am now able to recognice which species is calling.

After our enforced rest day, we are looking forward to making up time with an early start in the morning.

Read on: day 4Tweet

Nagzira’s evergreen forest

Our driver and guide sleep in the car overnight, parked at the back of our lodge. At 5.45am I go downstairs and wake them. They are both shivering from the cold, with only thin blankets for warmth. Sarah offers them our blankets to wrap around themselves until the morning chill wears off.

By 6am we are on the main west road, driving through the darkness of pre-dawn and encounter Rajeet, driving slowly back the other way. He is ecstatic. He has just seen a Tiger, a big male that walked along the road in front of his car for a while before heading into the undergrowth. Even though dawn is one of the best times to see Tigers, Rajeet has been extraordinarily lucky. We drive on a few hundred metres to where Rajeet saw his beast. It is beginning to get light, and a Langur is giving alarm calls a short way off in the forest, indicating the tiger is still around. I decide to stop and record, its the first time I’ve heard those calls so clearly. The dawn birdsong is gathering pace too, but disappointingly seems to be dominated by Parakeets screeching as they fly overhead. A Racket-tailed Drongo calls overhead, a beautiful fluting call that I haven’t heard them make before, which is not surprising as they are such extraordinary vocalists and mimics.

Langur alarm calls and Racket-tailed Drongo

The forest here is dense evergreen jungle, and there is no way I could see a tiger. For safety I stay close to the vehicle, although I understand they are not usually a threat to people. During our first Indian visit in 2002, we were with a parks ranger who ran after a tiger with his camera in hopes of a closer photograph before the animal headed into the scrub. No doubt he knew from experience that in that circumstance it was reasonably safe. For myself, in the absence of that knowledge, I’ve decided to adopt an approach best summed up by our Australian ex-prime minister’s immortal advice to ‘be alert, not alarmed’.

Meanwhile, Radisham, our guide and protector, has fallen asleep in the back seat of the car. Satish is getting fidgety, and wakes Radisham up to chat with him. Sarah tells them both to be quiet as I am recording. The dialogue moves to intimate whispers. It becomes obvious we are going to have a problem with these two as they have no idea of how to be quiet. After a while we move on, exploring the maze of forest tracks. As we move further from the core areas, the forest becomes drier and more teak-dominated. The purely evergreen woodlands seem to have relatively little birdlife, so these drier mixed-forest areas are worth investigating further. We come across a riverine area with adjacent teak forest that looks promising. However it is now nearly 9am, and the morning birdsong has abated.

I take the opportunity to impress on Radisham and Satish the importance of absolute silence by showing them how sensitive the microphones are. This strategy fails completely as they are fascinated by being able to hear every sound they each make. On our way back we pause at the tiger location again. The Langur calls are still audible, although less frequent and some further distance away. We are warming to Radisham, who has a quiet and thoughtful temperament, and we are managing to communicate even with the most rudimentary English. By contrast Satish is acting like a cheeky kid, showing off and telling jokes. As we stand by the car a Chital (Spotted Deer), presumably unsettled by our presence, suddenly gives off an alarm call, a loud yelp. Satish, startled, dives into the car, leaving us laughing at his unease. He covers up by pretending to get something from the car and emerges with a big grin.

Evening safari is from 3pm until 6, and reveals little. The forest is quiet, and the only highlight is a group of grazing Gaur (Indian bison), including one massive bull looking oddly cute with his white lower legs.

It is confirmed, tomorrow the park will be closed, a holiday for guides and staff prior to what is often a busy weekend of visitors. We’ve been told that despite being surrounded by forest, we will not be able to go into it for the day. Grounded. Over dinner Rajeet tells us he has obtained special permission to go out of the park and visit neighbouring wetland areas, and invites us to join him. If we take our vehicle we can all go together, so we agree to pick him up at his nearby lodgings at 6am.

Read on: Day 3Tweet