Their long, stout bodies and short, stubby legs make crocodiles look ungainly. Apparently only people who study, live, or work with them know that these reptiles can climb well. A recently published account highlighting how widespread this behaviour is among croc species received wide publicity.
Young crocs of many species routinely climb trees. In forests and mangroves, where no dry beach is available, these creatures have little option but to scale logs and trees to bask. Not only can they scramble up broad, sloping branches, but also thin, vertical ones that require agility.
In captivity, crocodiles put their climbing skills to good use. An adult dwarf croc escaped from its enclosure in Bristol Zoo by crawling up a tree. Periyor, a two-mt mugger, scaled a 1.8-mt-high chain link fence and escaped (see The Adventures Of A Crocodile Stud , February 15 2014, MetroPlus ).
Some species such as Australian freshwater crocs are better climbers than others such as salt water crocs. Gharials, the most aquatic of all crocodilians, are probably the most inept climbers; they can’t even walk a few paces. Generally, a crocodile’s size determines how well it can scramble up. The forelegs become progressively incapable of supporting its weight as the croc grows larger.
Crocs don’t only climb trees and chain link fences. They also scale steep, almost vertical, sandbanks. In our experience, the champions of crocodilian agility are muggers.
During a summer in Yala National Park, Sri Lanka, when most water bodies were dry, we found scats of adult muggers beside deep rainwater pools on top of steep, rocky outcrops, 15 mt above ground. But Rom had witnessed even better climbing feats.
Rom did the first survey of crocodiles at Gir, Gujarat, in 1975, a drought year. While spot-lighting for the reptiles in a drying artificial lake in Gir National Park, Rom mimicked the call of a distressed croc hatchling at night. He wanted to demonstrate to the foresters accompanying him how crocodile parents can be protective.
The foresters thought Rom was joking until a 2.5-mt mugger croc, plump from feasting on fish, emerged from the water. Rom’s companions grinned in appreciation that a wild croc could be called like a puppy. But the croc was no tame creature.
She trundled purposefully out of the water, and the next thing the unsuspecting foresters saw was her head emerge over the three-mt-high edge. They stood frozen in shock. Only when she paused to get better purchase, did they recover their wits and beat a hasty retreat.
When permanent water is scarce, mugger crocs dig deep tunnels in which they stay cool even when the outside temperatures are scorching. The 20-mt-high embankment of the 764-hectare Kamleshwar reservoir was riddled with tunnels all the way from the water’s edge to the top.
Rom explored the lower tunnels and found nests near some of them. He couldn’t climb up the embankment to investigate the tunnels located higher. He walked across the dry lake bed to the opposite bank where the slope was shallow and scrambled up. He circled back to the tunnel-riddled earthen wall, leaned over, and flashed a light into the topmost tunnel. The nose of a large three-mt male croc was no more than an arm’s length away.
When Rom narrated this tale, I asked, “Did the croc get into the tunnel when the water level was higher and become marooned when the water dried up?”
He replied, “There was a well-worn path leading down to the water. So the croc was probably going down to the water for a drink every few days and climbing back into its tunnel.” After a pause, he added, “These crocs were better at climbing than me.”
At night, Rom returned to spotlight for crocs from the opposite bank and found bright reflective eyes glinting back at him from all the tunnels.
I wonder what would have happened if he had mimicked the distress calls of a baby croc.
