12th November 2017, Chidiyatapu
Woke up early this morning to head to Chidiyatapu. It's about 1.5 hrs away from ANET with a bus change halfway through.
There's a biological park there with a handful of well-maintained enclosures for reptiles and mammals, along with a campus full of labeled large trees. It's a peaceful place to look at plants, work on tree-identification and simply go birding. I came to love the place, especially in the mornings before tourists came by, during my stay in the monsoon. I was stuck in Port Blair for 10 days longer than I intended to be back then (thanks to the fast-filling ship seats). I used that time to interview fishermen early in the morning and then watch the captive macaques at the Chidiyatapu Biological Park until it closed. I'd take the early bus towards the park, often with rain trickling into my useless raincoat through cracks in the bus, and get there in time for a cup of tea and samosa before it opened for the day. I came to know the Keeper fairly well in that time, and he would tell me colourful stories about the macaques' exploits (since I was his only available audience). I maintained a tiny notebook of what the monkeys did during the day, often dozing off in the afternoon along with them. They would roll their rotund, overfed selves into the shed in their otherwise open-aired enclosure and snooze in a primate bundle. I would sit on the tiny bench under the tiny roof opposite their enclosure, drenched from the rain, falling asleep over my soaking binoculars.
Although I was up and ready to head out early to the park like I used to, Akshay, Dayani and I soon realized that the rush of the Andaman Avian Bird Club (wonder why the felt the need for 'Avian' and 'Bird' in their name) would still be there till 10 am, owing to it being Salim Ali's birthday. We figured that it made little sense to set out that early and skip breakfast. Then, we noticed that Johnson* was making roti and chole, so that sealed the deal.
While walking down to the ghumai** later, we birded. We saw a juvenile crested hawk eagle and a HUGE flock of white-rumped munias. I've never seen so many together and up-close. They were mini-murmurating between the telephone wires and a rice field. Their calls seem like they're coming from way beyond - a gentle chatter lost in the breeze.
We got to Bathu Basti (en-route to Chidiya) only to realize that the next bus to Chidiyatapu was 1.5 hrs later. We killed time and money at Switz and ultimately took a rickshaw for lack of patience. The drive was lovely, as always. The blue of the sea had returned up to the shore post the monsoons (although it's still the season for occasional downpours).
Since we hadn't done lunch yet, we bought some samosas for later from the Aunty next to Cafe Infinity. She recognized me and asked where I'd been this whole time, leading to a small conversation in Tamil. It's always nice to be remembered by someone you remember well.
For the first time since my visit with Tarun, I did a whole round of the place with Dayani - I used to head straight to the monkeys ever since. It took us about half an hour to reach the monkey enclosure this time. I felt immediate relief and affection - a combination of emotions I reserve for seeing Chaplin*** healthy and well after a long time. The two juveniles were much larger than I last saw them. They were still in the maximum-time-spent-clinging-to-mom phase in June. Now, they were flinging themselves between branches without a care in the world. I had two long hours of solo observation with them before Akshay and Dayani joined me after looking at all the trees in the park.
Things I saw:
1. They flush insects out of the grass. They almost catwalk through the grass, parting the blades in their path with every step.
2. They catch flying insects from the air and eat them - like it's muscle memory.
3. The older female that seemed to be cast aside the first few times I was here still seems to be less socially involved in the group. Although there were no acts of aggression towards her, she kept to herself.
4. Lott, the Keeper I befriended the first time around, definitely had it wrong. He would insist that the zoo had four females co-existing in that enclosure and that their only male was kept separately at the back since he was too charged-up with testosterone. We would argue about this even then. Today, I observed how grooming led to the display of very red bottoms, which further led to the mounting and mating by the largest individual of the group - a male. Apart from the final mounting, I managed to record all the steps leading up to it - just in case I saw Lott and could do a victory lap.
People have ALL kinds of opinions about these monkeys. In the two hours that I sat there, many visitors came by, leaving me privy to their conversations. I was highly amused by their chatter -
"They are all kala bandar****. We should stay away."
"They are gorillas."
"They are from South Africa." (Confidently mentioned by boyfriend to girlfriend while standing over an information board that read 'Nicobar crab-eating macaque'.)
"They are pyaara and ittu-cute*****."
"They are very dangerous!"
An islander who was with his family recounted a story of how these monkeys severely mauled the face of a new Keeper about a year ago when he came in to feed them. His daughter, excited that his father struck up conversation with me, asked me for my binoculars and went closer to use them. Even though transition and habituation are important for species like these, I wonder how much truth is in these stories.
We emerged when it was getting dark, and another chai later, realized that the last bus back into town was bursting at its seams. We chanced upon Ravi - our trusty and resourceful cabbie who takes great pride in ferrying researchers around - who gave us a lift back to Bathu Basti. On the way, we found a molting Andaman pit viper crossing the road. We screeched to a halt and got to watch it painstakingly cross over to safety. A wonderful end to a long day.
_____________________
*Johnson is one of the ANET boys who helps Sanjay cook and take care of our hunger-related grievances.
**Ghumai translates to a roundabout - it's about 1 km away from ANET where we catch buses to go into town.
***Chaplin was my ageing dog back in Bombay who I'd miss on all my travels. I used to have nightmares about waking up one morning and hearing that he was unwell or, God forbid, no more.
****Translates to 'black monkey' which is used in a derogatory sense very often.
*****lovable and tiny-cute!
Woke up early this morning to head to Chidiyatapu. It's about 1.5 hrs away from ANET with a bus change halfway through.
There's a biological park there with a handful of well-maintained enclosures for reptiles and mammals, along with a campus full of labeled large trees. It's a peaceful place to look at plants, work on tree-identification and simply go birding. I came to love the place, especially in the mornings before tourists came by, during my stay in the monsoon. I was stuck in Port Blair for 10 days longer than I intended to be back then (thanks to the fast-filling ship seats). I used that time to interview fishermen early in the morning and then watch the captive macaques at the Chidiyatapu Biological Park until it closed. I'd take the early bus towards the park, often with rain trickling into my useless raincoat through cracks in the bus, and get there in time for a cup of tea and samosa before it opened for the day. I came to know the Keeper fairly well in that time, and he would tell me colourful stories about the macaques' exploits (since I was his only available audience). I maintained a tiny notebook of what the monkeys did during the day, often dozing off in the afternoon along with them. They would roll their rotund, overfed selves into the shed in their otherwise open-aired enclosure and snooze in a primate bundle. I would sit on the tiny bench under the tiny roof opposite their enclosure, drenched from the rain, falling asleep over my soaking binoculars.
Although I was up and ready to head out early to the park like I used to, Akshay, Dayani and I soon realized that the rush of the Andaman Avian Bird Club (wonder why the felt the need for 'Avian' and 'Bird' in their name) would still be there till 10 am, owing to it being Salim Ali's birthday. We figured that it made little sense to set out that early and skip breakfast. Then, we noticed that Johnson* was making roti and chole, so that sealed the deal.
While walking down to the ghumai** later, we birded. We saw a juvenile crested hawk eagle and a HUGE flock of white-rumped munias. I've never seen so many together and up-close. They were mini-murmurating between the telephone wires and a rice field. Their calls seem like they're coming from way beyond - a gentle chatter lost in the breeze.
We got to Bathu Basti (en-route to Chidiya) only to realize that the next bus to Chidiyatapu was 1.5 hrs later. We killed time and money at Switz and ultimately took a rickshaw for lack of patience. The drive was lovely, as always. The blue of the sea had returned up to the shore post the monsoons (although it's still the season for occasional downpours).
Since we hadn't done lunch yet, we bought some samosas for later from the Aunty next to Cafe Infinity. She recognized me and asked where I'd been this whole time, leading to a small conversation in Tamil. It's always nice to be remembered by someone you remember well.
For the first time since my visit with Tarun, I did a whole round of the place with Dayani - I used to head straight to the monkeys ever since. It took us about half an hour to reach the monkey enclosure this time. I felt immediate relief and affection - a combination of emotions I reserve for seeing Chaplin*** healthy and well after a long time. The two juveniles were much larger than I last saw them. They were still in the maximum-time-spent-clinging-to-mom phase in June. Now, they were flinging themselves between branches without a care in the world. I had two long hours of solo observation with them before Akshay and Dayani joined me after looking at all the trees in the park.
Things I saw:
1. They flush insects out of the grass. They almost catwalk through the grass, parting the blades in their path with every step.
2. They catch flying insects from the air and eat them - like it's muscle memory.
3. The older female that seemed to be cast aside the first few times I was here still seems to be less socially involved in the group. Although there were no acts of aggression towards her, she kept to herself.
4. Lott, the Keeper I befriended the first time around, definitely had it wrong. He would insist that the zoo had four females co-existing in that enclosure and that their only male was kept separately at the back since he was too charged-up with testosterone. We would argue about this even then. Today, I observed how grooming led to the display of very red bottoms, which further led to the mounting and mating by the largest individual of the group - a male. Apart from the final mounting, I managed to record all the steps leading up to it - just in case I saw Lott and could do a victory lap.
People have ALL kinds of opinions about these monkeys. In the two hours that I sat there, many visitors came by, leaving me privy to their conversations. I was highly amused by their chatter -
"They are all kala bandar****. We should stay away."
"They are gorillas."
"They are from South Africa." (Confidently mentioned by boyfriend to girlfriend while standing over an information board that read 'Nicobar crab-eating macaque'.)
"They are pyaara and ittu-cute*****."
"They are very dangerous!"
An islander who was with his family recounted a story of how these monkeys severely mauled the face of a new Keeper about a year ago when he came in to feed them. His daughter, excited that his father struck up conversation with me, asked me for my binoculars and went closer to use them. Even though transition and habituation are important for species like these, I wonder how much truth is in these stories.
We emerged when it was getting dark, and another chai later, realized that the last bus back into town was bursting at its seams. We chanced upon Ravi - our trusty and resourceful cabbie who takes great pride in ferrying researchers around - who gave us a lift back to Bathu Basti. On the way, we found a molting Andaman pit viper crossing the road. We screeched to a halt and got to watch it painstakingly cross over to safety. A wonderful end to a long day.
_____________________
*Johnson is one of the ANET boys who helps Sanjay cook and take care of our hunger-related grievances.
**Ghumai translates to a roundabout - it's about 1 km away from ANET where we catch buses to go into town.
***Chaplin was my ageing dog back in Bombay who I'd miss on all my travels. I used to have nightmares about waking up one morning and hearing that he was unwell or, God forbid, no more.
****Translates to 'black monkey' which is used in a derogatory sense very often.
*****lovable and tiny-cute!
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