Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their 
rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred 
yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and 
yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its 
intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters 
blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
Trip Report:
Please use this trip report as a reference
for our 2015 Pre-trip for our Tiger Photo Safaris.
A brochure will be available shortly.
The Keoladeo and Kaziranga
Pre-Trip Extension 2013
See our Tigers and the Wildlife of India Trip Report
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
Feb 20. From Delhi to Brahatpur
We had about a one hour transition from our snow leopard trip to our turn-around to drive to Bharatpur and Keoladeo National Park. We’d checked in several bags for storage and now spent too much hectic time switching northern cold weather gear for what we’d need in a more temperate climate. In the process we left behind several photographic items that we could use in Keoladeo, not discovered until our arrival at our hotel/palace in Bharatpur.
The drive north from Delhi was typical, a horn-blowing, weaving adventure as our bus driver negotiated around trucks, speeding tractors, motor bikes, and cyclists. A cow, on occasion, stepped into our path, prompting a hard brake. In and around the cities garbage was everywhere, with plastic bags and litter forming islands between traffic lanes, and heaps of trash resembling a tide-line of detritus along the road. We passed three-wheeler rickshaws and pickup trucks loaded beyond capacity with passengers, and once a bus where two people hung out, completely exposed, holding on to the bus by a strong grip.
Our driver, as we neared Bharatpur, seemed lost, making a U-turn once and seemingly making a broad circle before finally meeting a main road for the long, final approach to our destination. Our guide for this section of the trip met us at the hotel, confirmed times, and left us for an 8:30PM dinner, the conclusion of a very long day.
Feb. 21. Keoladeo
Nancy carrying her 500mm on the way to our first shoot, a very rare
Siberian Rubythroat foraging in a clearing near the park entrance.
Fog or smoke cloaked the dawn landscape and when we approached the Park entrance the silhouettes of roosting peacocks on gnarled, dead-looking trees spotted the distant fields. Although the park opens at 6:30 the light is still low and poor by 8, about the time we started our rickshaw drive down the bicycle lane that serves as K’s game drive. We all had our own rickshaw, with our local guide, Narendra, riding alongside, peddling his own bike.
Our drivers, or peddlers, were all skinny guys, and I’d guess my driver weighed no more than 130 lbs, and was obviously strong. All of the rickshaw drivers were incredibly helpful, opening and extending tripod legs, or collapsing same at the end of a shoot, spotting birds, and doing anything possible to be useful. Their normal fee for a morning’s work is 100 rupees, but since we were out nearly 5 hours we tipped our drivers 200 – or a whopping $4 USD. Actually, I tipped a bit more, as I felt guilty for the work and helpfulness Rajh provided.
The bird shooting was spectacular, and without trying we saw 55 species of birds, with over 400 recorded for the park. In the first hour or so the light, though dull due to the fog or smog, was soft and pleasing, and we shot Purple Herons, Gray Herons, and the most cooperative Rhesus Macaque Monkeys we’ve had anywhere in India. Old World Monkeys, in contrast to the species of the New World, are characterized by several differences, including vertically slanted, slit-noses instead of broader, rounder nostrils, and callosities, big callouses on their rumps. Some of the Macaques clearly showed this trait, having round, gray pads upon their rumps, which might not make the most interesting photo but is certainly valid as a natural history point.
We stopped shooting at 12, as the light was getting high and harsh, and we still had a commute back to our lodge, lunch, and a 1.5 hour drive to Agra and the Taj scheduled for the afternoon. Nonetheless, it was hard to leave, as shooting opportunities presented themselves every few minutes of the ride, and literally having a camera-caddy made the experience extremely enjoyable.
Clockwise: A Gray Heron, a look-alike to the American Great Blue Heron; a Rhesus Macaque Monkey making a face; a Booted Eagle being harassed by House Crow; a Lesser Whistling-Duck taking off.
In the afternoon we headed to Agra and the Taj for an afternoon/evening shoot at the moon garden, the site of the ‘black taj’ that was never built. The shoot was something of a disappointment as, from across the river and two or three hundred yards away, the shapes of tourists could still be discerned above the mausoleum’s walls. During the monsoon this vantage would be wonderful, as the river, in flood, would frame and perhaps reflect the northern side of the Taj Mahal but now, in the dry season, a large, sandy, uninspiring sand flat extended to the distant and mostly hidden river.
Still, we did the best we could, and I shot images where the Taj was framed by leaves or the naked silhouettes of trees, or a silhouette of Mary with a camera, or an unnamed European woman dressed in a sari that, in silhouette, would pass adequately for a native.
Perhaps, at the right time of year – mid summer, the sun angles more directly upon this side of the Taj but for now the structure is strongly side-lighted and, as the sun began to drop, creating a beautiful fireball, the muted orange sun cast too little light for any drama. Instead, the Taj became muted in the late afternoon light and so, twenty minutes before the actual sunset, we headed for home, stopping at a Pizza Hut in Agra for a faster, cheaper, and very tasty dinner.
Feb. 22.
Clockwise: Rhesus Macaque at dawn; Collared Scops Owl;
Purple Sunbird; Dusky Eagle Owl fledgling.
I awoke feeling poorly, with an upset stomach and I ate a light breakfast before heading back out to Keoladeo National Park for more bird shooting. Our guide led us to a village inside the park where Jungle Owlets were perched conspicuously in a tall tree, and a Dusky Eagle Owl juvenile perched on a fairly open limb in a thicker part of the forest. Only a week earlier this owl was still in the nest but as the owl outgrew the nest it became what’s commonly called a ‘brancher’, often falling to the ground before scrambling up a slanted branch or tree trunk to safety. In the same village, by a Buddhist temple a White-collared Scops Owl stuck its head from a large knothole, the third owl in less than an hour.
I felt more ill as the morning continued and I felt like I was working at half-speed. The productive track that we rickshawed on yesterday, shooting herons and ducks, now seemed empty, although perhaps the time we spent with the owls made the difference in activity. Nonetheless the morning was still productive for everyone, with Jim shooting two species of Snipe, me shooting some flying Graylag Geese, and all of us getting something worthwhile.
I skipped lunch, having no appetite and just wishing to sleep. In the afternoon we returned to the bird park, with our rickshaw drivers peddling fast to reach the temple area where we planned on heading to a less-visited area. We were waylaid en route by a very cooperative Common Kingfisher, a small but very colorful bird that, like all kingfishers, is often quite wary. We peddled along some large shallow ponds where, as sunset neared, Sambar Deer and Nilgai, or Blue bulls, the largest antelope in India, fed in the wetlands. The name, Blue Bull, refers to the male’s color which, in some light and at a distance, can give a shiny blue look.
Top: Rose-ringed Parakeet; Sarus Crane, one of only four birds in this park this year!;
2nd Row: Nilgai or Blue Bull;
3rd Row: Sambar Deer and House Crow; River Turtles sunning;
Bottom Row: Rhesus Macaque Monkey
Towards the end of the day Mary’s driver spotted a pair of Sarus Cranes in the distance where he was sure the trail would lead, and Mary managed several very nice shots of this red-headed crane. We later learned that the status of this once abundant craned is tenuous, as agricultural practices and pesticides have severely reduced their numbers in some areas. This year only four birds appeared, while only a few years ago literally thousands would winter in this park. I found a roosting Spotted Owlet in a tree by a canal as I looked for a silhouette opportunity with birds against the dull orange sky, and a Nilgai bull that straddled a dung heap where, like an African dik-dik (one of the smallest of antelopes), the bull urinated and defecated onto a pre-existing pile, marking its territory. Later, quite close to the track I photographed another bull feeding in the shallows, and a rare, and even more rarely exposed, Black Bittern along the track.
I skipped dinner, feeling even weaker and sicker than ever, while the group chose meals from the menu, discovering that we did not have to order the buffet. Everyone agreed that was a good choice.
Feb. 23.
We checked out this morning, heading to the Red Fort, the home and palace of India’s third Moghul emperor, Akbar. We met out guide there and the group enjoyed the visit. I hadn’t improved, and spent that time in the bus, sleeping and recuperating, hoping to have the strength to do the Taj later in the morning.
I did feel well enough to slowly do the Taj, and wisely chose not to carry my heavy 1D-X camera and lens and to simply enjoy the visit. This was a good choice, as, unencumbered by a camera, I could look carefully and enjoy this incredible structure, a mausoleum to the wife of twenty years to the fifth emperor. The exterior is all white marble, as are the visible walls of the interior, inlaid in many places by precious stones from the Indian subcontinent and seas. Inside, visiting the first, false tomb of the emperor and his wife (there are six tombs, on top of each other with the last, the actual grave site, far below and off-limits to visitors, the experience was far less pleasant as crowds jostled and shuffled along. We were warned of pick-pockets and there was no wonder, bodies were bumping constantly, while some tour guides directed their group’s attention by blowing police whistles. The effect was reminiscent of India’s roads, where car and truck horns blasted constantly.
We left the Taj around one, arriving back in Delhi shortly before 6 and discovering all of our previously stored luggage was now outside under a white net. We were told that our bags had just been placed outside, although under cover of an over-hanging roof, but we had no confirmation of this, and we were justifiably upset, wondering if our bags, with expensive equipment stored inside, may have been out for the three nights we were away. On the positive side, Mary had forgotten a brand new headlamp when we left the hotel for Leh and the snow leopards and tonight, checking with Lost and Found, they had it, and a pair of socks she left behind as well. I was impressed by their honesty – in Nairobi forgotten items are rarely seen again.
Jim left tonight for his flight home, while Richard and Delphine joined Nancy, Justine, Tom, and Mary and I for the next leg, our pre-trip to Kaziranga for One-Horned Rhinos and Gibbons.
Feb. 24.
To Kaziranga
We had a reasonable flight time for our trip to Kaziranga, with a departure at 10:50. Indian airport security is thorough, and after having our carry-on bags X-rayed and the luggage tag stamped, we had two more checkpoints before entering the plane. It was a fairly large jet, fully booked, but with plenty of overhead space and thus the flight went smoothly.
We were met at the Guwathati Airport where, upon disembarking, our ticket was checked, either for security or to insure we didn’t get off at the wrong stop. Once, going to Komodo Island from Bali, we disembarked at the wrong stop on the island of Flores, and luckily discovered our error before our plane took off. I appreciated this extra check here.
The drive west to Kaziranga went uneventfully, with much of the route on a highway where cows, oncoming traffic, or pedestrians were not a problem. The highway, winding along some roads but basically following the floodplain of the B. River was relatively level, passing floodplains, dried rice fields, and small villages once we left the main town. Guwathati has a population of 2.5 million, but the drive through town was relatively hornless, no beeping, and much less chaotic than Delhi or Agra. We passed a fancy bannered building, the grand opening of a new Gold’s Gymn.
The drive west, with two stops, took about five hours and near our lodge we stopped at an overlook where Hog Deer, Barking Deer, and five One-Horned Rhinos grazed in the wetlands. Several armed guards were standing at the overlook, and we assumed they were guards, but while we still watched the rhinos the guards disappeared. Other locals appeared, and many kids, and I suspect the rhino watching is a local attraction.
We reached our lodge at dusk and were greeted by a competent, English-speaking staff and shown to our rooms, elevated on pillars and extremely comfortable and spacious. All told, the indicators are that we will enjoy this leg of the journey.
Feb. 25. Kaziranga
We left at 6 for a 6:30 elephant ride into the grasses for One-horned Rhinos. We were the second shift, but the sun was just 45 minutes above the horizon and the light still golden and low. I can’t imagine starting earlier and dealing with almost dusk conditions. Mounting the elephants was extremely efficient – we climbed a cement stairway to a large pavilion and stepped aboard our elephant, two to an elephant. Mary’s elephant took three, so she rode with Richard and Delphine.
We were warned, or potentially scared off, that the elephant ride was extremely uncomfortable as the seat required you to literally straddle the elephant as you might a horse, and that the rocking gait was very taxing on the back. We did not find this to be so, although all of us did walk a bit like bow-legged cowpokes after a long trail ride when we did get off the elephants.
One-horned rhinos were everywhere and we hadn’t progressed too far through the patchwork of burnt thatches of elephant grass and green growth when we encountered a mating pair that, with high pitched squeals, ran through the tall grasses and into an opening, kicking up golden puffs of dust against the early light. Soon after, we moved close to a mother rhino and calf and another adult, who ignored our presence atop the elephants.
The challenge here was getting a clear shot of a rhino lifting its head, as most were busy munching into the grasses. Hog Deer, the nearest relative to the Spotted Deer that is so common throughout most of India, but absent here, were approachable as well, and we had a pair of males with their stout, distinctive three tined horns. So, too, were the barasingha Deer, the Swamp Deer, which ignored our presence. A variant of this elk-sized deer is found in Kanha, and is called the ‘hard ground’ barasingha, as the habitat there is not the typical swampy environs as present in Kaziranga.
After our ride and a picnic breakfast we did a game drive, two to a vehicle, into the park, photographing more rhinos, hog deer, and numerous birds. In total we probably added another 20 species to our list, without really trying at all. Perhaps the best was a clear view of a Giant Hornbill, a turkey-sized, basically black and yellow-white bird with a huge bill topped by a long crest. While we watched the bird hopped higher and higher into the branches, finally settling on a bare, thin limb at the very top. There it called a few times, a resonating, honking ring, and I wondered if the extra tube of beak above the bird’s upper mandible played any role in this resonance. Some dinosaurs, and birds are now considered the living fossil cousins of these extinct reptiles, also had odd skull ornaments, sweeping bone structures that extended far beyond their head or cresting high above their nose – much like the Cassowary bird of Australia and New Guinea. Sitting at the edge of the Bharaputra flood plain, it was easy to imagine a Jurassic swamp where the air reverberated from the distant honking of some dinosaur. Our hornbill finally took off, signaling its intention by dropping a load of excrement, and flew towards us. I’d mounted my 500 on my tripod beforehand, luckily, making for a fairly smooth pan as the bird flew to and over us. By noon the light was high and the air hot, and we returned back to camp for a quick lunch and a 2:15 return to the park.
PM. We entered the western gate this afternoon, in contrast to the bit more crowded Central Gate where we boarded our elephants this morning. The rhino shooting from the jeeps was outstanding, and we had several opportunities for close-ups as rhinos fed in the open and close to the road. A small herd of wild Indian Elephants visited the lake shore, giving us some OK family shots at some distance in the soft afternoon light. We had a good view of an Asian Barred Owlet and, close by, a poor view of a Brown Fish Owl.
At a viewing platform overlooking Duva Lake a large group of perhaps twenty Smooth-coated Otters (Lutrogale perspicillata) swam about, catching three large fish within a minute of each other. Some charged in to attempt to share but the successful ones seemed to always keep their prize. Occasionally the otters would start calling, sounding remarkably like the Giant Otters of the Pantanal. Unfortunately they never swam close for anything other than tiny white-chinned heads sticking above the river’s surface.
We game-drove until shortly after 6 with the sun dipping a dull red behind the distant western mountains. A bull Asiatic water buffalo floated in the now dingy orange-colored water, its broad, sweeping horns and the boss of its head just visible above the surface. In the starkness of the light the sharp black silhouette of the buffalo accented the shape of the horns, flat, scythe-shaped, and so unlike either its relative the African buffalo or the tiny curly-shaped horns of its domestic relative. As we headed back to camp one Indian Elephant was moving up the highway towards us, carrying a load of banana leaves that extended far out on either side, carrying its dinner home.
Feb. 26. Kaziranga.
Rhesus Macaque Monkeys drinking the nectar from flowers; the lower canine of a One-Horned Rhino is visible -- these teeth are used in fights with other rhinos;
a wild Asiatic Water Buffalo wallowing in the mud.
We had planned on visiting a Gibbon sanctuary far to the east of Kaziranga, but our guide suggested we check out the western part of the park instead where Hoolock Gibbons, Capped Langurs, and Assamese Macaques could be found. The Gibbons viewing here, as described by a friend, was not sexy, as most are seen from the road. Those at the sanctuary require hikes through the forest, the proper atmosphere, but the trip would require about 3 hours each way and, for the photo return, did not seem worth the trouble.
We missed seeing the gibbons, although we heard, quite indistinctly, their almost dog-like hooting far in the distance, in the blue-gray mountains paralleling the highway. Although there are perhaps 2200 one-horned rhinos in Kaziranga, last year several were poached in this area. We heard 60 from a tourist, and 16 from our guide. Either way, it is a terrible waste of life as the horn plays no purpose for anyone but the rhino, and, compared to the African black or white species, it is so insignificant. Last evening we saw a male with a big horn, and I doubt if it was longer than 12 inches in total. Many seemed half that.
Poachers, our guide said, are now using tranquilizers to kill the rhino. With dart guns they subdue the animal, then basically hack off its face as they get every inch of the rhino horn. Our first thought, when we heard tranquilizer, was a ray of hope, as we naively thought that the poachers were simply harvesting the horn, as is done at some game ranches in South Africa. Instead, we learned that the drug dose is nearly fatal as is, but using a dart gun instead of a rifle eliminates the latter’s sharp report. With a dart gun, a poacher can operate almost silently.
Our game drive through this area was rather uneventful, except for a distant view of a Wreathed Hornbill, a near look-alike of the Great but distinguished by an all-white tail. Great hornhills, in contrast, have a black band just above a final terminal band of white, making identification fairly easy.
We drove to the edge of the floodplain where, at this time of year, little water flows and instead the landscape resembles either a desert or a beach, for sand banks extend to the horizon. At an observation tower here, where two people conked their heads soundly on a low overhang as they climbed the steps, we watched a small troop of Assamese Macaques. Quite similar looking to the Rhesus, found through most of India, the Assamese lacks the bright, almost revolting, red rump. Instead, their colors are more sedate, with a grayish head and forequarters blending to a brown coat that extends down across their rump.
We’d seen a small troop of Capped Langurs when we entered this section, but these huge, black-faced monkeys were shy and bounded off through the trees, presenting no opportunity for shooting. Mary’s driver spotted a family group toward the end of our game drive, saving the morning as we were able to get out of the jeeps, set up tripods, and shoot some clear, but somewhat distant shots, of the family group in the trees high overhead.
On the way back to camp we stopped along the highway for a view of a group of twenty or so Indian Fruit Bats, hanging head-down in a leafless tree above a small house. The bats reminded me of a bag of coins, or a stretched out pair, thin at the top and bulbous, fat at the bottom. I didn’t bring a Range IR with me on this leg of the trip and, once I arrived, I worried that I might have a chance at shooting these big, fruit-eating bats and not have the gear. That hasn’t happened.
PM. We headed back to the western entrance where we had great success yesterday. I didn’t anticipate we could do much better, but we did, by far. Like yesterday, we saw another brown fish owl and the smooth-coated otters swimming far out in the lake but returning along that route we had a One-horned Rhino close to the road and facing us, providing frame-filling verticals whenever, after a half minute or so of grazing, it would raise its head to look our way.
These rhinos have a unique mouth, quite unlike that of the African species. In Africa, the two species, Black and White, are distinguished most readily by their lips. The black rhino’s upper lip is triangularly shaped, and is prehensile, allowing it to encircle leaves that it then strips off a branch by a tug of its head. White rhinos have a square-lipped appearance, and very much like cows are grazers. The Indian one-horned rhino looks like a cross of the two, as the upper lip is triangular and the lower, which juts forward under a very prominent, heavy lower jaw, is thick-lipped and nearly square.
This lower jaw, which when slightly agape may reveal a sharp-looking, triangular canine tooth or tusk, may, along with the weird plate-like folds of skin that resembles medieval armor, complete with round stud-like protrusions that could be mistaken for rivets anchoring these plates, gives this rhino the most prehistoric appearance of any mammal. Looking at one, its easy to think of a triceratops from the Cretaceous Period. Our rhino tonight was close enough that the pink areas around its irises were visible, tiny eyes in a huge, blocky head.
Our rhino moved closer and we backed off, assuming it wished to cross the road. It eventually did so, but not in the gap we provided but instead right behind Tom and Mary’s jeep. We continued on, and in one of the mud wallows close to the road we found a large bull Asiatic Buffalo wallowing, its skin completely covered in a slick, black mud. The buffalo left the water twice but returned each time for another bout of wallowing, then moved off, digging up the ground or tossing up vegetation with its huge curved horns.
My driver thought he had a tiger when he saw hog deer running off, and we spent about twenty minutes scanning the grasses but nothing appeared, and no alarm calls indicated that a tiger was present. We moved on, shooting the last good light of the day with another buffalo, completely submerged except for the ridge of its back and its head, just below ear level. A Common Kingfisher perched nearby and periodically smashed into the water nearby, and I tried to get a shot where the bird was in focus and the buffalo behind, but the plane was too shallow and I missed. A flock of Jungle Mynahs flew in, circled the buffalo, and perched there momentarily, either to drink or hunt bugs, and as they flew off we returned to the supposed tiger location where we waited, fruitlessly, until the last light of the day.
A wild Water Buffalo with Jungle Mynas;
a Langur leaping;
barasingha Deer at dawn.
Feb. 27.
We left at 6 for another elephant ride into rhino country. This time, most of us were prepared for the long, cold drive along the main road to the central gate, and Mary and I had on wool caps, a windbreaker, vest, and polarfleece sweater. Our seven were divided amongst three elephants this time, with Tom riding with a ranger on a small elephant and the rest of us split between two adults, three to a chair.
The rhino viewing was as good as our first day, although this time we also had a mother with a young calf out in the open. Another, a male with a raw-looking red rump, as if horned when trying to run off, was completely in the open at what may have been a lick. We circled that one for several different angles.
Mary’s elephant came upon a mother Wild Hog with at least four young babies, their coat a well-camouflaged blend of stripes and scattered spots upon a tawny background. The mother had held her ground, which was puzzling, until they saw the babies and the thatch-like hut where the hogs lived. The hut, a domed structure of bent grasses about four feet in diameter, had a small entrance hole, now used by the babies but presumably larger, earlier, for passage by the adult. I’ve read of some dwarf swamp hogs that construct ‘houses,’ but was unaware that the bristly, common wild hog does so as well.
Mary also had a very young Hog Deer with vivid spots, the typical fawn pattern common even in North American deer. Tom’s elephant took him to a fresh Tiger kill, an elephant that was killed last night and that was mostly consumed. We’d seen about two dozen vultures, either flying away or perched in nearby trees, and we suspected a kill, which Tom confirmed. Unfortunately the cat had left.
We did quite well with a family of Asiatic Water Buffalo as well, with two babies, one so light colored it almost appeared white and still dangling an umbilical cord. Four females and one lone male comprised the herd, and although similar the horns of the male were a bit broader and longer. Any one of them, however, would have been formidable.
After our elephant ride and breakfast we headed out on our jeep drive, paralleling a river where five days ago a tiger had been seen. I asked how shy the cats are here and was told they are not, and this one, just across the river and within easy reach of a long lens, stayed in view for around twenty minutes.
There was a small controlled fire in the forest where we made our turn-around, and as we drove back towards the entrance we passed another, a huge conflagration of burning elephant grass sometimes casting flames fifteen feet into the air. These burns will promote new growth once the rains arrive, and the fires pass quickly, although I suspect a lot of amphibians and reptiles die each year, not able to escape the flames in time.
At our elephant loading dock, in contrast, we saw a marker where various flood levels had reached. In 2004 the monsoon flood reached almost to the seats on an elephant’s back, and in 1988 the flood extended as high as a person’s head sitting on a seat – a good 12 feet. Animals at that time must leave the park, obviously, and move into the hills. Here, I’m told, poaching is more likely, and the danger of road kills as animals move across the highway paralleling this flood plain must be great.
PM. For a change of pace we headed west and to the river where, at 2:30PM, we boarded a long, covered boat powered by a put-put diesel engine and cruised upriver for Ganges River Dophins. The river here is flat, calm, and broad, probably about four hundred yards wide. We’d barely left our anchor when the first dolphins arched out of the water, just showing their pinkish backs before disappearing. Traveling up river a few miles we turned and drifted until the dolphins appeared. Here we spent the next hour or so attempting to catch one of these challenging mammals as it broke the water’s surface.
The dolphins, about a dozen in total perhaps, were everywhere, or nowhere, as they would appear in one stretch of river, then another. Eventually we patterned their swimming to two likely areas, but even then the shooting was incredibly difficult as the dolphins would rise and almost porpoise out of the water and down again so quickly that, if your lens wasn’t pointed in the right direction, there was little hope of catching a shot. We were forced to stand or sit at attention, one eye to the viewfinder and the other at the rest of the river, although the latter was pointless as any dolphin that appeared there was gone before we could react. Rarely, a mother and young, or perhaps two dolphins would surface within seconds of each other, but most times, expecting this after missing a rise, was useless.
Still, it was a fun and challenging exercise and simply seeing this aquatic mammal was a treat. The dolphin is perhaps the closest living look-alike to the marine dinosaur, the Ichthyosaur, and like that dinosaur this dolphin has a long, narrow beak – quite unlike almost any other species. This beak is lined with teeth and, in the mammal field guide, is compared to a Gavial, or Gharial, a crocodilian that also has a long, thin snout for catching fish. Gavial’s thin snouts are perfect for slashing sideways in the water to catch fish, and indeed this dolphin does likewise, having a flexible neck that permits this, unlike most cetacean species. The dolphin lacks a true lens and is blind, finding its prey via echolocating pulses, and it is said to be quite vocal, although we heard nothing.
As the sky started to turn golden the dolphin activity slowed, and we headed back to our anchorage and the road home, hoping to encounter the gibbons we’re still missing on the trip. We missed them, although a large troop of Capped Langurs were in the trees above the main highway but the light, by then, had failed and the langurs soon disappeared into the thickness of the forest.
Feb. 28
We left early for our long drive and our flight to Delhi where, tomorrow, we start the next leg of our journey, the Tiger Safari!
See our Trip Report on Tigers and the Wildlife of India
Read our Snow Leopard Expedition Trip Report
If you'd like the latest information on our trips, sign up for our email newsletter. We DO NOT share our email list with anyone.
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
|
||
Join us on Facebook at: Follow Hoot Hollow
Visit our Trip and Scouting Report Pages for more images and an even better idea of what all our trips are like. There you'll find our archived reports from previous years.
