Surrendering myself to the Food Chain in the land of King Cobra

22 September 2024
Chitradurga

It is said, “Celebrate your wins!” after achieving every goal of yours.  I have been celebrating my wins through hiking or trekking in nature.  After rekindling my interest in wildlife photography, I combined hiking with photography.  The Artificial Intelligence behind the Facebook app discovered my renewed interest and recently presented me with this exciting and intriguing ad: “Agumbe Rainforest (Western Ghats) Herping & Macrophotography Tour.” The brochure was adorned with all kinds of deadly venomous snakes!  I immediately fell for it for multiple reasons. 

First, Agumbe receives the maximum rainfall in Karnataka and is known as the Cherrapunji of Karnataka.  It has been my long-term dream to own a piece of land in Agumbe, where I could build a small cottage and sit watching the torrential rain. 

Second, we were always taught to run away from snakes or kill them if given the chance.  This expedition actually involved photographing them, even the deadly ones! 

Third, I bought a Canon 100mm Macro lens but had not used it at all, and I saw this as an excellent opportunity to learn macro photography.

Fourth, the Western Ghats forest around Agumbe is one of our country’s last surviving bio-diverse tropical ecosystems.

Fifth, Agumbe is home to the King Cobra, or Kalinga Sarpa in the local language—the deadliest and largest venomous snake on Earth. 

Sixth, as a wildlife lover and forest conservationist, I had written a detailed article about the environmental hazards of the Tadadi power project in Prajavani newspaper long ago. The opposition party at the time successfully used it as a weapon to stall the Tadadi project. Hence, I never miss a single chance to visit the Western Ghats. 

Wildlife, birding, and herping photography tours are a new type of business start-up that has emerged in the country in recent years.  The great thing about them is that they are run by professional photographers or wildlife conservationists passionate about their work.  These tours come at a premium cost.  Even though we can save money by organizing these tours ourselves, I prefer going with these professionals because they arrange all the logistics, ensure our safety in those terrains, and provide valuable photography tips.  I chose to do a herping tour with Abhishek Sen of Gram A Wildlife this time. 

The center of our herping tour was the Kalinga Centre for Rainforest Ecology (KCRE), housed in Kalinga Mane.  According to their website, KCRE was founded in 2012 to enable people to connect intimately with nature.  They understood that the sooner people realized they were not mere tourists but torchbearers, the greater the hope for the well-being of our planet.  They also recognized the importance of taking pride in our natural world, understanding one’s role, and, most importantly, possessing the knowledge and tools to enact constructive change.

True to its Google Maps location, Kalinga Mane is situated in the middle of the forest, about 5 km from the Solapur-Mangalore highway.  It was approximately 200 km, or a four-hour drive, from my hometown, Chitradurga, via Shimoga and Thirthahalli.

Kalinga Mane is located in a valley where probably King Cobras lived once, and when you arrive at the parking lot, you wonder where the human habitat is.  If you follow a narrow kachcha path through the forest, you might not encounter a King Cobra, but you’ll be greeted by an army of mini-monsters—the Western Ghat leeches!  And there stands a wooden arch inscribed in both Kannada and English: “Kalinga Mane.” We climbed down from the arch and reached a wooden cottage hall serving as the facility’s dining area.  You first notice a sign asking you to remove your footwear!  This is one of the first rules to observe at KCRE, as it is a research centre, not a resort!  Afterwards, we descended further stairs to reach the beautiful wooden cottages.

The wooden cottages were of 5-star quality and equipped with all modern amenities.  The only thing was that we couldn’t take our footwear inside.  Our program started with a sumptuous lunch.  Another rule we had to follow here was that we had to wash our plates, bowls, cups, and spoons!  Afterwards, we rested for a while, enjoying the beautiful vegetation behind the balcony and listening to the sounds of birds, frogs, and various insects.  Upon careful observation, the surroundings appeared to be an arecanut farm. However, the thick vegetation growing between the arecanut trees made it feel more like a forest than a farm.

Following a delicious snack of Chilli Bajji with some tasty tea, the six of us herpers set off for evening herping.  In our herping group, in addition to my brother Dr. Ramachandrapp A.B (a retired Kannada Professor) and me, there was a father-son duo, a journalist, and a professional photographer.  They were all wildlife enthusiasts who would jump joyfully at seeing a common butterfly.  Later, we were also joined by a couple who worked in IT.  I noticed most of the group were well-prepared, guarding themselves against leeches with leech-resistant socks, leg guards, or pump shoes.  They were all carrying good and heavy camera gears.

I wore the ankle shoes I had bought for my Himalayan trekking.  KCRE provided gumboots, but I found them uncomfortable to walk in, let alone hike.  My ankle shoes protected my ankles during treks and prevented leeches from entering.  I also wore thick, long socks that nearly reached my knees, and I tucked my waterproof pants into the socks. Despite the heavy rains, I wore a trekking T-shirt, as it gets scorching in the Western Ghats.  To further protect myself, I tucked my t-shirt into my pants to prevent any creepy crawlers from getting into the warmer areas of my body.  However, most of my evening herping was spent searching for leeches, crawling up my legs and trying to chase them away or smash them.  Despite this, I photographed some tiny frogs camouflaged in the vegetation, pill millipedes that curled up at our sight, and many unfamiliar mushrooms, leaf patterns, and flowers. 

Midway through the herping, torrential rain started.  Fortunately, we were well-prepared with raincoats and umbrellas.  As darkness set in, we returned to our quarters.  The evening was spent searching for and killing the remaining leeches crawling onto our clothes. Although I had managed to prevent most leeches from crawling onto me, a few still managed to suck my blood right through the thick socks!  The saliva of leeches contains a potent anticoagulant called hirudin, which causes prolonged bleeding from the bite. This allows the leech to feed but also results in continued bleeding even after it detaches. In the morning, I noticed the leech love bites—tiny trickles of blood that had clotted on my legs.

Dinner was sumptuous, with delicious chicken and vegetable curry.  What I loved most was the mixture of curds and rasam—I gobbled up two bowls of it.  Then came the night herping!  At night, the forest truly comes alive, with frogs jumping into action, followed by snakes, who hunt them as their meal!  The rain continued, and the frogs and insects became even noisier.  As I put on my waterproof rain jacket and ankle boots, staring into the dark, I shuddered at the thought of leeches crawling all over me, especially since it was difficult to spot them in the dark and rain.  I carried a torch and headlamp with me but found the light insufficient to spot the tiny monsters, so I chickened out.  The team left without me and my brother.

In hindsight, I didn’t miss much about herping that night.  Besides a couple of frogs, the night herping team hadn’t spotted anything significant.  It rained the whole night.  The insects—cicadas, crickets, grasshoppers, and katydids—sang in chorus, joined by various frogs, forming a night symphony.  I couldn’t sleep and stood on the balcony, listening to them.  At one point, I shouted, “Silence, please!” amazingly, everything went quiet for a few seconds.  But my happiness was short-lived.  All the night creatures seemed to have misunderstood my command and restarted their singing even louder!

Frustrated, I screamed, “Shut up!” There was a brief pause, and only the sound of the rain, like the harmonium in a music band, could be heard.  But soon enough, the night creatures resumed their chorus at an even higher pitch!  I was tempted to shout more colourful abuses at them but kept quiet, not wanting to disturb the neighbours.  I had also noticed a newly married couple visiting the facility—probably on their honeymoon—and I didn’t want to disturb their romantic evening.

As usual, I woke up early and waited for the sunlight.  The rain had paused, so I went around the cottage with my camera, macro lens, and telephoto lens.  Many birds were chirping in the tall, thick vegetation surrounding the KCRE facility, but none could be seen.  They were all quickly flying from tree to tree, hiding behind the leaves.  It was frustrating to hear them loud and clear, yet unable to spot or photograph even a single one that morning.

Frustrated, I switched to macro mode, and that’s when I discovered the marvel of our beautiful Earth’s ecosystem.  As I started photographing the flowers and leaves, I noticed many insects that were otherwise invisible to the naked eye.  Even more astonishing was spotting tiny spiders weaving micro-webs to catch even smaller insects.  I went wild, photographing as many of them as I could.

We had Neeru dosa, coconut chutney, eggs, and more eggs, followed by the strongest and tastiest sugarless coffee for breakfast.  We then set off for a morning herping walk to a nearby stream.  The walk took us through thick swampy terrain and a running stream where frogs had made their home.  This meant there was a good chance of spotting snakes as well.  We did spot some water snakes and a few that slithered away too quickly for us to identify.

We had to carefully watch every step we took—both for fear of stepping on a deadly creature and to avoid harming rare ones.  The whole morning walk had an eerie, creepy vibe to it.  Eventually, we reached a small rivulet with some of the cleanest water I’ve ever seen.  We could photograph double-coloured frogs, bush frogs, and dancing frogs there.  There was some luck in store for us.  We spotted a green, long-nosed Indian vine snake, perched on a bush like a meditating Buddha.  It seemed intensely focused on some imaginary frogs and their potential meal, and our commotion while photographing it didn’t bother it at all.  Even though it was non-venomous, I took a macro shot with my telephoto lens from a safe distance.  Returning to the quarters later was a welcome relief.  Well, every walk had to be followed by the ritual of searching for leeches.

In the afternoon, we enjoyed a delicious meal of chicken sukka, red rice, ladies’ finger curry, and coconut burfi for dessert.  However, I stuck to my favourites—curds and rasam.  After lunch, we had some rest time, as spotting creatures in the midday heat was brutal.

Our evening herping tour began after having potato pakoda and some tasty tea.  This time, we hiked to Akki Baththa Rashi Gudda (Hill).  The trek route took us through dense forest, where the leech population was even higher.  I hoped to spot some snakes, so we carefully observed everything that moved and any strange colours.

This hike felt easier, thanks to my preparation for the Himalayan trekking and Pranayama.  However, I knew my weakness wasn’t in climbing up and descending.  After reaching the summit, we enjoyed the views and took group pictures.

Our guide, a young man named Akshay, was very knowledgeable.  He identified all the strange creatures and plants for us and would honestly admit his ignorance if he didn’t know something.  He worked as a guide and a research assistant to a PhD student whose research focused on pit vipers.  Akshay was following the routines of a few pit vipers in the area.

The timely arrangements of tasty Male Nadu (State of Jungle/Forests) style food and the logistical arrangements were overseen by a gentleman named Mr Prashanth, a walking encyclopedia of the entire flora and fauna of this part of the Western Ghats.  On our return, he drove us out of the jungle, and it seemed he knew everyone we passed along the way.  He shared with us the origins, mission, vision, and growth of KCRE and the challenges it faces for self-sustenance.  We learned that several wildlife researchers and conservationists regularly visit the facility for research and conservation activities.

While hiking, I noticed some trees growing together, almost hugging one another. It made me think: nature offers lessons on collaboration, much like corporate mergers and acquisitions. While we were on the hilltop, what struck me was a section of the forest that looked like someone’s neatly combed hair with a central partition.  Upon inquiring, Akshay explained that it was due to eucalyptus plantations set up by the government’s forest department.  This monocropping practice acted like a double-edged sword.  On the one hand, it completely altered the original forest ecosystem and created its own.  However, maintaining such mono-cropping was cheaper for the government than managing regular forest plantations.

Additionally, people were less likely to deforest eucalyptus plantations than native forests.  Eucalyptus also likely generated revenue for the government, as it is a raw material for rayon production.  We descended down while there was still some light.  Descending down was not as bad as I had imagined it to be.  

We had a great dinner with Chapathi and tasty mutton curry that night.  The rain had restarted.  The rest of the herping group is as enthusiastic as earlier for the night herping trip.  The second night, we also made a false start.  After the hike to Akki Baththa Rashi Gudda, my mood became somber.  Hence, I decided to remain home and get that 8 hour of sound sleep after a very long time.  Rains roared, insects sang with a renewed vigour, and the frog added the drumbeats, but none of it disturbed me this night.  

The rain had stopped in the morning, and there was some sunlight.  Hundreds of birds were chirping loudly.  I lazily and pessimistically opened the balcony door, not expecting to spot any winged friends.  To my utter surprise, a long-tailed flycatcher was perched right in front of me on a tree.  I quickly ran inside for my camera and managed to capture it before it flew away.  Then, there was a woodpecker, noisily mocking me.  I also spotted many sunbirds.  Higher up, perched on the cut end of a tree bark, was a juvenile eagle, poised as if ready to pounce on its prey.  Despite the cloudy sky and low light, I still managed to get some good shots.

Meanwhile, my fellow herping team members had gathered in the room next to mine to photograph the juvenile eagle.  They shared some exciting news about their sightings from the previous night—they had spotted two Malabar Pit Vipers, a male and a female.  The best part was that they planned to revisit the site after breakfast.

I quickly got ready and walked by the lake in the backyard, capturing some beautiful plants and flowers.  We had rice kadubu with mutton curry, sweet buns, and chutney—dishes endemic to this region—followed by another good cup of coffee.  After breakfast, we set off searching for our venomous, creepy friends.  At first, we couldn’t find any of them where they had been spotted earlier.  But luck was on my side.  While the male Malabar Pit Viper had disappeared, the female had positioned herself on a tree bark, probably hunting for her prey.  I took as many photos as I could, satisfied with my success.

On the onward journey, our driver dropped us off, but I drove my Mahindra Thar back home for the return journey, which I had bought specifically for hiking purposes.  As I drove, one memory from this herping tour kept haunting me.  When we were at the top of Akki Baththa Rashu Gudda, standing in the last sentinel of biodiversity on our mother Earth, I searched for other creatures—but there were none.  Akshay explained to me, with a heavy heart, that as humans encroach more profoundly into the jungles, many creatures are forced to retreat further into the forest.  The excessive use of fertilizers, pesticides, and plastics has wiped out many species of insects and animals, breaking the natural food chain.  In fact, many snakes in the Western Ghats have become extinct due to a lack of food caused by this disrupted food chain.  It was a hard truth for me to accept.

The sun was quickly setting in the west, behind the clouds and the ranges of the Western Ghats.  I felt a deep desire to do something to restore that broken food chain, but I was completely clueless and helpless.  I stood there motionless as an army of tiny leeches swarmed toward me from all directions.  I surrendered to the food chain in the land of the King Cobra.

Dr. Prahlada N.B
MBBS (JJMMC), MS (PGIMER, Chandigarh). 
MBA (BITS, Pilani), MHA, 
Executive Programme in Strategic Management (IIM, Lucknow)
Senior Management Programme in Healthcare Management (IIM, Kozhikode)
Postgraduate Certificate in Technology Leadership and Innovation (MIT, USA)
Advanced Certificate in AI for Digital Health and Imaging Program (IISc, Bengaluru). 

Senior Professor and former Head, 
Department of ENT-Head & Neck Surgery, Skull Base Surgery, Cochlear Implant Surgery. 
Basaveshwara Medical College & Hospital, Chitradurga, Karnataka, India. 

My Vision: I don’t want to be a genius.  I want to be a person with a bundle of experience. 

My Mission: Help others achieve their life’s objectives in my presence or absence!

My Values:  Creating value for others.