Nature's Spokesman

by M Krishnan

In the Western Ghats forest I went to, dhole are the chief predators of sambar. Long ago, in an old shikar book, I read an account of a sambar stag which took refuge from dhole in peckdeep water. Some of the pack then entered the pool, and a few swam to the sambar’s front and engaged its attention, while two sneaked up from behind and seized it simultaneously by its ears, securing the quarry by this stratagem. The account, given as that of an eye-witness, may not be factual—I cannot even recall the author’s name—but the split-second timing of the dhole seizing their victim simultaneously from either side seems to suggest authenticity. Dhole do often employ pack strategy, some distracting the prey with feints from in front (especially when it is much larger than themselves) while others pull it down by a faultlessly coordinated and covert attack from behind. I have personally observed this in forests far apart.

  The point is that in slushy shallow water, when a few sambar bunch together, the dhole hunting them are at a hopeless disadvantage. During my stay at this Western Ghats preserve, thrice a sambar chased by dhole was observed to rush into shallow water fringed with vegetation. It was immediately joined by other sambar that were close by, and then the adults (even the hinds) turned aggressors, walking with outstretched necks threateningly up to such of the hunters as had entered the water after them, and violently stamping to splash the enemy, which immediately abandoned the hunt. So far as I know, this manoeuvre by the deer has not been reported by others, though many have studied the prey–predator relationship between dhole and sambar, even in this very location. Is it far-fetched to suppose that the sambar I observed haunting watersides in this preserve did so because the dhole were there?

  Perhaps not, but this could not possibly be the motive in the other preserve I went to, where there were no dhole, though there were tigers. Here, on several successive days I watched a group of sambar stags in the last stages of antler regeneration feeding heavily on water plants. There were many kinds of plants in that lake; and from over 150 metres away I could spot only a very few—white and pink lotuses and water lily (the leaves of which only were eaten), and a cylindrical alga which was probably Enteromorpha. I could not even collect the small flowering plants the deer fed on, because they were in mixed spreads and I could not tell which were eaten.

  The hinds were content to graze the lush herbage on the banks, wading in a little way to eat a water plant occasionally, but the stags fed only on the aquatic vegetation, assiduously. Could it be that these plants contain something that promotes antler growth?

  1990

  35

  Slow-breeding Rhinos

  One February morning, near Bhaisamari bheel in the Kaziranga sanctuary, I saw a big rhinoceros cow closely followed by her almost full-grown daughter. In fact, the latter was so large that from a distance I took this pair for a bull and a cow running together. I saw the pair again next day, and also a few days later. Having no close idea of the age of the young cow, I asked those with me, but they too did not know, and gave widely differing estimates.

  How long does a rhino calf take to grow up and until what age does it run with its mother? These are highly relevant factors in assessing the normal breeding cycle among free-living rhinos. I believe there are zoo records of the growth of calves, and these should be useful—such zoo records as exist of breeding would be less reliable, as in captivity the average interval between breedings may be quite different from the same period among wild animals.

  Many factors have to be considered to get a sound understanding of the breeding cycle of free-living animals. For example, breeding may be more intensive in some years than in others, and some variation in intervals between successive breedings may be noticed. Again, among gregarious animals, breeding may be less slow-paced than among solitary beasts: I think this is specially so in the largest herbivores. Unlike gregarious animals of near (though smaller) size like gaur and buffalo, rhinos are solitary—that is, they do not live in herds, though a bull and a cow may stay together for a while when mating, and the calf stays with its mother till nearly her size. Among such solitary animals, the cow does not breed till her calf is nearly full-grown and leaves her.

  Even if we know it, mere knowledge of the breeding cycle of a wild animal will not help much in effectively conserving it. For this vitally important purpose what we really need to know is the increment to a much reduced population that may be expected over a period, if it is protected from artificial depletive influences: for this, the number of conceptions and births is less material than the number of young that will survive to adulthood and breed.

  From what I have been able to learn by asking knowledgeable persons, and thinking over known facts, I believe a rhino calf is not fully grown till it is some six years old: by that time it is past its adolescence, though it continues to ‘furnish’ for quite some time thereafter. Among elephants (the largest land mammals—rhinos are the second largest) calves take about fourteen years to reach adolescence, but then elephants are gregarious and among them a cow may breed again while her calf is barely half-grown. I do not know how long the association between a rhino cow and her calf lasts, but should think it is about three years. The one thing that can be said definitely about rhinos is that they are slow-breeding.

  Is that all we know about the breeding potential of rhinos? Not at all. However, empirical and approximate it may be, we know something much more important about their breeding capacity, that should be of the greatest value in the present attempt, under Project Tiger, to conserve and revive animals wholly unrelated to them.

  We know that many years ago it was feared that the Great Indian One-horned Rhinoceros would become extinct in Assam, and that its numbers were then reckoned at a few dozens at best. Rhinos are slow breeders, giving birth to only one calf at a time and breeding only at intervals of years, but we know that what caused the alarming decline of the rhino population of Assam was intensive poaching and nothing else. Dedicated work in protecting the animal from poachers resulted in a gradual increase in its numbers, and now it is definitely saved in Assam and its population in that state is estimated at several hundreds.

  Anyone who will take the pains to indulge in a little elementary mathematics will know that irrespective of the slowness of the rate of decline or increment in a population of animals, and in spite of the uniform maintenance of that rate, the actual decrease or increase in numbers is always at continuously accelerated figures. Note that the only depletory factor affecting the rhinos of Assam that was controlled was the entirely artificial one of human interference: losses by natural causes, such as predation (on occasion a tiger may take a young calf), diseases, or the unpredictable exuberance of the mighty Brahmaputra, could not be, and were not, controlled.

  In spite of this, and the rhino being a slow-breeding, far-ranging animal, its revival from an almost hopelessly reduced population to safe numbers in Assam is an established fact, and what is more the revival did not take such a long time, after all.

  Here is a vital clue to success in wildlife conservation in our country. Provided the environment has not been too badly degraded or damaged, the accord of efficient protection from hunting and human disturbance in an adequate area is certain to result in a notable revival in the numbers of depleted wild animals, particularly of those species that are solitary, though they need not be herbivores as rhinos are—in fact, I think that animals like the tiger, the leopard and the sloth bear, all of which are also largely solitary and also little affected by being preyed upon, will benefit vastly by such protection. Gregarious animals face slightly different problems, but no doubt they, too, would be greatly benefited by such protection.

  In theory, it is so simple to protect the wildlife of an area from hunters and overmuch human disturbance, but in practice this may prove extremely difficult in our country. The officials on whom the mantle of protectors of nature falls are, unfortunately, seldom able to resist the temptation to do what they consider, in their ignorance, more positive things, and to try and improve upon nature, so t
hat they themselves turn disturbers so readily.

  1973

  36

  Mixed Issue

  Acorrespondent from Burdwan, who shuns the limelight and is keen on anonymity, has a puzzling problem in genetics to solve. He keeps ducks and poultry, and now he has a homebred cock ‘with a peculiar appearance: its body is like that of ducks while it is a cock’. It looks, in fact, ‘like a cross between a drake and a hen or a cock and a duck’, and my correspondent wants to know if such an offspring is possible and, if it is, whether the matter is of scientific interest. The answer is simple. It cannot be a duck–fowl hybrid, but unquestionably it is of scientific interest. I can already imagine frantic letters in the post and press by geneticists and physicists interested in the way heredity is affected by atom-bomb contamination. Perhaps Burdwan will be under a scientific cloud, and its rainfall anxiously analysed. But all to no purpose. I am old-fashioned in my views on the sanctity of correspondence, and neither torture nor even spot cash can extract from me the name of the owner of the bird of Peculiar Appearance. And without knowing his identity, how can the scientists get at his ‘cuck’, or maybe it is his ‘dren’?

  However, I will answer the very natural question of the reader: how far are these things possible? So far as we know, hybrids are possible only between closely related animals. But I should immediately add two riders. First, this does not mean that all closely related animals will interbreed; even animals in vigorous health, of the same species and of opposite sexes, may not breed together, as those who have kept pigeons will know. Second, nearly related animals may look very different, and need not always belong to the same genus. This needs amplification.

  All breeds of pigeons, fantastically different in looks as an owl, a jacobin and a runt are, go back to the same ancestor (the wild blue rock) and will freely interbreed. The lion, the tiger and the leopard, all belonging to the genus Panthera, have been interbred—the progeny of the lion–tiger cross are said to be fertile. The mule and the hinny provide familiar examples of infertile hybrids between the horse and the ass, both belonging to the genus Equus. The issues are more interesting when we consider the dog tribe. No one knows precisely how the domestic dog was bred, but it is thought that both the wolf and the jackal contributed to man’s best friend. Utterly dissimilar-looking breeds like the Great Dane and the Old English Sheep-dog can be interbred—in fact, the only limitation to interbreeding different breeds is the physical one of size, and such dogs as the Bull Mastiff and the Dobermann Pinscher are examples of recently manufactured breeds. Moreover, the domestic dog will breed not only with the wolf but with the jackal also. Note that all three belong to the same genus, Canis.

  With cattle we come to more interesting hybrids. As everyone knows gaur can be interbred with domestic cattle, and the Mithun of Assam is the result of such sustained outcrosses. Recently I believe someone succeeded in breeding a zebu–buffalo hybrid—the word ‘zebu’, which is rarely used in our country is, unfortunately, the only specific name for our humped cattle. Here the parents belong to different, though closely allied genera. The limits of mixed blood in animals, in actuality, seem to be indicated by these examples.

  In mythology there are no such limits. Apart from exotic hybrids like the unicorn, the hippogriff and the griffin, our own legendary fauna can boast of the lion–elephant Yali, the twoheaded Gandaberunda (though this is no hybrid), and a highly decorative creature, part-fish and part-reptile, found in old temples and incorrectly identified with the crocodile by art critics. Were my correspondent’s cock carved in stone instead of being a thing of flesh and blood, it could be easily explained. That suggests to me that if the bird was referred to a gourmet with a truly discriminating palate, he could probably pronounce judgement on its ancestry.

  Only twice, in my experience, has it been claimed that animals longing to unrelated families could be interbred. In the Madras Zoo there is a small but most interesting bunch of albino blackbuck—I believe albino buck have been recorded even in wild herds, but these confined buck are pure white and breed true to colour. I was surprised to find the statement, in the guidebook of this zoo, that these animals were produced from imported (albino?) Fallow Deer, by a process of hybridization. Tactful inquiries elicited the information, from the Superintendent, that the buck as well as the information regarding their ancestry were presented to the zoo by a certain governor. I rarely presume to rise superior to my station in life, but I was overpowered by curiosity, and so addressed His Excellency explaining how, being a naturalist, I was consumed with a desire to know the authentic ancestry of his gifted albino buck. That was close on three years ago. I still await a reply. Not that I suggest, for a moment, that H.E. is capable of purposely frustrating scientific curiosity—perhaps a discreet private secretary, after considering all the circumstances, decided it was wisest to consign my letter to the w.p.b.

  And the second instance? Well, that was not a genuine one, either. It is only that, when I was young, my brother and I decided that a certain gentleman, who exercised authority over our lives in those days, so much partook of the physical and traditional attributes of two totally unrelated creatures that he must be the outcome of a misalliance between the two. And so we coined the word, ‘pigasse’, the terminal ‘e’ being added out of a delicate sense of style. For years, afterwards, I used a hand-drawn crest on my letter-paper, displaying a pigasse rampant, and gave it up only when this whim cost me a lucrative job, when I used my letterhead in replying to a businessman who had made me a handsome offer.

  1956

  37

  The Aggression of the Vegetarian

  It is hard to say who first expounded it, but the thesis that among Indian wild animals the larger herbivores are, as a rule, more aggressive towards men than the carnivores has been the conviction of more than one naturalist-shikari who knew our fauna intimately.

  We are, of course, speaking of normal attitudes and bents—not of exceptional reactions or abnormal, cultivated tastes. The man-eating tiger and panther must be left out of this consideration, and also the rogue elephant (which is often an animal maddened by the abiding pain of a man-inflicted injury). And we should also leave out the fright reaction of animals closely confined and provoked; a captive tapir, probably the most timid of all beasts, has been known to savage a man who caused it pain.

  Even with all these limitations the thesis might seem absurd at first sight. We think of carnivores as specially savage animals—in spite of the fact that Man’s Best Friend is a carnivore. That they kill to live is something that makes people think of them, at all times, as likely killers.

  But normally no carnivore attacks man. When excited, as when courting, or when apprehensive, as when guarding cubs, a tiger or panther may attack a human intruder, but being equipped with exquisite senses, and being swift in their nervous controls, they almost invariably give a timely warning, often several warnings, before they attack.

  I can easily find support for this view that it is the chancemet herbivores that are more dangerous by citing the evidence of zoo experts. Any experienced zoo man will tell you that the greater cats give him little cause for worry, and that it is some of the old dog-monkeys and, in particular, old bucks and stags (and we always think of antelopes and deer as such harmless, lovable creatures!) that are really dangerous. But I will not cite this testimony. In my opinion, animals, especially mammals, live under such artificial restraint in even the best-run and planned of zoos that observation of these captives helps little in understanding their true nature.

  It is especially the adult male that is aggressive, among the herbivores. The bull elephant and the lone bull gaur can both be really dangerous on occasion. The bull gaur is normally a most peaceable beast, very shy of man, and rarely attacking except under extreme provocation—it is the bull wild buffalo that is truculent by nature. But there are authentic instances of an old lone bull gaur attacking men without provocation, and I myself knew for a ticklish week a young lone bull that was so re
stive that to approach him was to ask for trouble.

  When a bull gaur does go for a man, he is persistent and savage in attack, continuing to trample, gore and toss the victim long after death. This is generally true of herbivorous aggressors, which lack the mercifully swift and clean efficiency of the carnivores in killing.

  Ask any true jungly, living on the outskirts of a typical forest area holding elephant, gaur, deer, tiger, panther, bear and pig, and he will tell you that it is the elephant that he fears most. Being mainly nocturnal and crepuscular, being so early with their perception of the approach of man and so quick to get away from him, or at least to give him due warning not to approach closer, the greater cats rarely cause humanity in the jungle any anxiety. Sloth bears (which are vegetarian in the main) can be dangerous: being short-sighted and given to deep preoccupations, at times they take no notice of one till one is almost upon them—and then their behaviour is unpredictable. Pig in the jungles usually give men a wide berth, but on occasion an old boar may stand his ground and turn aggressive—when there can be no two opinions on what the human intruder should do! However, it is the mighty elephant that people whose business takes them through elephant jungles really dread. In places where they have not been disturbed or molested, as in some sanctuaries, elephants may be very tolerant of humanity. But elsewhere, in the Nilgiris, for example, they can be aggressive and dangerous.

  It is usually a lone bull that one has to beware of, but I have heard of an entire herd attacking transport lorries. Personally, I think this truculence is a comparatively recent development, caused or stimulated by the constant disturbance of human invasions of their territory, probably also by occasional injury inflicted by men—elephants are both long-lived and intelligent. The fact remains, however, that though one can find reasons for a tusker turning aggressive, he is a singularly dangerous beast. The uncanny silence with which he can move, the deceptive seeming casualness of his movements, his persistence in attack and the fact that unless one can jump down a steep bank it is hardly possible to outrun an elephant, and quite impossible in bushy or grassy cover, all make an encounter with a misanthropic tusker specially risky and terrifying. Luckily, he is short-sighted, and if one gets quickly behind a tree or bush, hugs the earth and freezes, chances of escape are excellent.