The Stalker and the Outcast: Sharing the Landscape with Predators in the High Himalaya
By
Saloni Bhatia
One autumn evening in Ladakh, we received news that a snow leopard had killed someone’s pet dog and injured a calf. I had only just landed in Leh and had not fully acclimatized, but we decided to pay a visit to the family the following morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of the carnivore as well. The village was about three hours away from Leh, at an altitude of 4200 m. We reached our destination at noon. The temperature was sub-zero, there was a drizzle of snow and yet, I was unable to keep my layers on because I felt asphyxiated. I slowly managed to make my way to the village with a pounding headache.
First Encounter
The village was in a narrow valley surrounded by steep gorges, gushing streams, and a hot spring. It was the smallest one I had ever seen, comprising only two households. We met the family whose calf had been attacked, examined, and treated its injuries. During our conversation, we gathered that the family had been struggling to continue livestock herding owing to frequent attacks by wild predators. In that instance, they had stayed up all night to guard their calf. But, they said, their neighbour Dolma had had it worse. She had lost her pet dog to the snow leopard.
We saw the remains of the dog; he had been tied to a rock and still had his leash on. Dolma, they added, had lost her husband a few years ago. She eventually gave up livestock herding because she did not have help. After the loss of her husband and the livestock, she became socially withdrawn to the point where she refused to interact with people. When guests would stop by to say Julley (hello), she would flee to the mountains and spend the night in the nearby pasture instead of the comfort of her home.
The dog had been her only companion through it all.
Toward dusk, the snow leopard emerged from its hiding and walked in the direction of its kill. The feline stopped right outside Dolma’s home where the dog had been tied. For the next half hour, the lady stood by the window and watched the snow leopard devour the remains of her only companion. Sadly, we could not interact with her because she was averse to meeting strangers but one can well imagine her state of mind. To me, that moment represented something beyond the economics of loss – it was an epitome of pain, vulnerability, loneliness.
Decoding the Mystery
Weeks later, I kept thinking about the families. What had prevented them from retaliating when they could have easily poisoned the carcass in the absence of monitoring? In a place like Ladakh, agriculture and livestock rearing are the main sources of subsistence and are crucial for people’s survival. How did they manage to cope with the losses and the anxiety about predator attacks, night after night?
Across the Trans-Himalaya (including Ladakh), wild animals often traverse villages and pastures since the boundaries between human habitation and wildlife habitats are essentially porous. Animals like the snow leopard and wolf – the two main predators here – are known to prey upon livestock, resulting in serious economic and psychological hardships for people. In fact, until a few decades ago one could easily find wolf traps in every village and/or pasture, meant to eradicate problem canids.
Across the Trans-Himalaya (including Ladakh), wild animals often traverse villages and pastures since the boundaries between human habitation and wildlife habitats are essentially porous. Animals like the snow leopard and wolf – the two main predators here – are known to prey upon livestock, resulting in serious economic and psychological hardships for people. In fact, until a few decades ago one could easily find wolf traps in every village and/or pasture, meant to eradicate problem canids.
A goat or lamb is tied to a rock inside the pit and kept there all night. The wolf is attracted to its bleating and jumps inside to kill it. However, owing to the curved walls of the trap, the wolf is unable to escape and ends up being pelted to death or shot by the villagers.
I repeatedly came across stories about depredation during my travels. I was drawn toward the mystery of
what shaped Ladakhi people’s relationship with wildlife, especially the two carnivores?
I wondered what one could do to reduce the intensity of the negative impacts for people.
Assembling the Puzzle
As the first step, I signed up for a PhD with the Nature Conservation Foundation-Snow Leopard Trust to better understand the problem. As the research progressed, our team gathered insights into the nuances and complexities of living with carnivores. For instance, we learnt that in the case of snow leopards, people’s response was dependent on the kind of interaction they had had with the animal. This included the type of encounter they had with the feline, its recency, and its economic impact. Additionally, the extent to which they perceived the snow leopard as a ‘risk’, or a threat also influenced their relationship with the predator. Knowledge about animal behaviour, the psychological benefits and costs of living with the feline, and people’s perceived sense of control over wildlife-related impacts – all these shaped attitudes and behaviours toward the snow leopard.
As was the case for wolves – risk perception turned out to be an important factor mediating people’s relationship with these canids. What was interesting to note was that people’s response toward the wolf was also influenced by the presence of institutions that helped mitigate the costs of living with wildlife. The frequency of interaction between Ladakhis and wildlife management agencies, the perceived advantages and disadvantages of the agency’s presence, the way the community had organized itself to deal with negative wildlife impacts, awareness about wildlife laws, and the presence of strong leadership that would aid decision-making – all of these contributed to people’s capacity to tolerate losses and accept the wolf in their midst.
The research helped realise that living with wildlife was a complex matter and had multiple dimensions – be they economic, social, or psychological. Through our conversations, we also came to appreciate the cultural canvas against which we had evaluated these factors. Ladakhis live in relatively close-knit communities and have deep cultural connections; many devoutly follow their religion. We then set out to unpack this canvas.
As was the case for wolves – risk perception turned out to be an important factor mediating people’s relationship with these canids. What was interesting to note was that people’s response toward the wolf was also influenced by the presence of institutions that helped mitigate the costs of living with wildlife. The frequency of interaction between Ladakhis and wildlife management agencies, the perceived advantages and disadvantages of the agency’s presence, the way the community had organized itself to deal with negative wildlife impacts, awareness about wildlife laws, and the presence of strong leadership that would aid decision-making – all of these contributed to people’s capacity to tolerate losses and accept the wolf in their midst.
The research helped realise that living with wildlife was a complex matter and had multiple dimensions – be they economic, social, or psychological. Through our conversations, we also came to appreciate the cultural canvas against which we had evaluated these factors. Ladakhis live in relatively close-knit communities and have deep cultural connections; many devoutly follow their religion. We then set out to unpack this canvas.
Impact of Narratives
We learnt that Ladakh had a vibrant oral storytelling ethos. Much folklore had already been documented by anthropologists, travellers, missionaries, and explorers. Using a combination of archival searches, visits to monasteries, and interviews with village elders, we were able to document diverse folk stories about the snow leopard and the wolf.
From the stories, it was clear that the wolf was largely associated with negative symbolism which, we reasoned, made people dislike them more than the snow leopard (this is the case across the globe). For example, the wolf is often referred to as an outcast or chanzan, meaning a ‘menace-causing predator’. We documented several folk stories about greedy and gluttonous wolves chasing ‘poor’ lambs.
To give an example, A.H. Francke’s book on Ladakhi songs published in 1899 documents a verse in which wolves are considered troublemakers:
From the stories, it was clear that the wolf was largely associated with negative symbolism which, we reasoned, made people dislike them more than the snow leopard (this is the case across the globe). For example, the wolf is often referred to as an outcast or chanzan, meaning a ‘menace-causing predator’. We documented several folk stories about greedy and gluttonous wolves chasing ‘poor’ lambs.
To give an example, A.H. Francke’s book on Ladakhi songs published in 1899 documents a verse in which wolves are considered troublemakers:
“Thinking, it will become happy and fat,
They sent the lamb to the meadow.
The thought, that the wolf would come,
That thought did not enter their minds.”
They sent the lamb to the meadow.
The thought, that the wolf would come,
That thought did not enter their minds.”
Only rarely did the wolf get associated with positive symbolism in people’s worldview with comments like, “Killing of wolves invites bad luck as they are associated with protective deities”; “Encountering a wolf during one’s journey is auspicious.”
The snow leopard, too, was seldom associated with positive symbolism. In one interview, it was referred to as the ‘natural ornament’ of the mountains. One can sometimes find snow leopard depictions in the ancient petroglyphs of the region.
Most stories about the feline pertained to its utility to humans and its unique behaviours. For example, in the past, monasteries used to offer stuffed snow leopards or its parts to the deities to enhance their power, and people often made jackets out of their fur. Ladakhis refer to the snow leopard by different names such as jatpo (one who stalks) or salapo (one who eats grass). Interestingly, scientists have also confirmed these behaviours.
The snow leopard, too, was seldom associated with positive symbolism. In one interview, it was referred to as the ‘natural ornament’ of the mountains. One can sometimes find snow leopard depictions in the ancient petroglyphs of the region.
Most stories about the feline pertained to its utility to humans and its unique behaviours. For example, in the past, monasteries used to offer stuffed snow leopards or its parts to the deities to enhance their power, and people often made jackets out of their fur. Ladakhis refer to the snow leopard by different names such as jatpo (one who stalks) or salapo (one who eats grass). Interestingly, scientists have also confirmed these behaviours.
Winds of Change
This learning – that people’s relationship is multi-faceted – seems intuitive in the hindsight. After all, human emotions and behaviours are not always predictable and are influenced by several factors. However, as conservation practitioners, we sometimes need a reminder that we are dealing with dynamic, adaptable, and culturally rich societies that are usually in some sort of transition. Ladakh, for example, is at the cusp of tradition and modernism. The transition has left its youth confused – they are often torn between respecting their roots and adapting to more globalised lifestyles.
The more time that one spends in these landscapes the more one comes to realise that alternatives – practical or intellectual – must enable people to deal with negative wildlife impacts whilst accounting for a diversity of worldviews and perspectives, transitions included.
One way in which the Nature Conservation Foundation-Snow Leopard Trust has engaged with this issue is by offering pastoral communities who rear pashmina goats a better premium for their pashmina (cashmere) in return for tolerating wildlife-related impacts. Many villages have joined hands and vowed never to hunt wild animals. Going a step further, as a symbolic gesture of its support to conservation, one of the villages recently converted its shangdong (wolf trap) into a stupa – a structure that Buddhists consider sacred. Where children and the youth are concerned, activities and storybooks have been designed such that they incorporate both cultural heritage as well as ecological knowledge.
The more time that one spends in these landscapes the more one comes to realise that alternatives – practical or intellectual – must enable people to deal with negative wildlife impacts whilst accounting for a diversity of worldviews and perspectives, transitions included.
One way in which the Nature Conservation Foundation-Snow Leopard Trust has engaged with this issue is by offering pastoral communities who rear pashmina goats a better premium for their pashmina (cashmere) in return for tolerating wildlife-related impacts. Many villages have joined hands and vowed never to hunt wild animals. Going a step further, as a symbolic gesture of its support to conservation, one of the villages recently converted its shangdong (wolf trap) into a stupa – a structure that Buddhists consider sacred. Where children and the youth are concerned, activities and storybooks have been designed such that they incorporate both cultural heritage as well as ecological knowledge.
To this day, I remember Dolma and all the families in similar situations who I was fortunate to meet during my time in Ladakh. Their sombre faces, brows wrinkled with worry, and those who requested my assistance with folded hands. I also remember how kindly they hosted me, how generously they gave despite having little, and how I hardly understood these paradoxes. More than anything, I remember how they made it a point to remind me,
“Animals are like people. They have the same needs and feelings.”
Empathy.
Maybe this was the answer that I had been looking for.
Empathy.
Maybe this was the answer that I had been looking for.
Acknowledgements: It is said that it takes a village to raise a child. The same applies to our research – while I may be the one consolidating all the information, it certainly would not be possible without my mentors Dr. Charudutt Mishra, Prof. Steve Redpath, Dr. Kulbhushansingh Suryawanshi. Dr. Yash Veer Bhatnagar and various scientists at the Nature Conservation Foundation also helped shape the research ideas. I am especially indebted to Dr. Stanzin Namgail, Rigzen Dorjay, Sherab Lobzang, Karma Sonam, Rinchen Tobge, Tandup Chhering, Thupstan Dawa, Malavika Narayanan and Sahila Kudalkar who helped with data collection. I am deeply grateful to all the community members from Ladakh, academic scholars and practitioners based all over India for their generosity, enthusiasm, and support.
12/06/2021
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