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It’s a little known fact. Until 1971, Kerala’s famed Eravikulam National Park was a private hunting preserve owned by the Kanan Devan Hills Produce Company, a British-managed subsidiary of James Finlay & Company Limited, then an international tea major headquartered in Glasgow, Scotland, with business interests in India, Kenya, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka.
Besides admirably conserving the varied wildlife found in Eravikulam while permitting shooting (or rather culling) on a very limited scale, the British also stocked its waters with trout, a freshwater fish imported from England, to promote angling for sport. Like the fauna, avifauna and flora of the Park, the trout still flourishes in Eravikulam, breeding on its own, though fishing is no longer permitted.
In the 1920s, the British built a log cabin deep in the core area of Eravikulam, accessible only by a 14-km track that snakes upwards sinuously from Vagavurrai, the nearest tea estate. Here the outdoors-loving Brits spent weekends on shooting, trekking and fishing trips. Details of game shot and trout caught were scrupulously logged in a Visitors’ Book dating back to the early 1900s. I consider myself singularly fortunate to have a facsimile of this historical record which makes intriguing reading.
As seen from the Visitors’ Book, right from the early 1900s till the mid-1990s young, newly-recruited planters were annually mandated to visit Eravikulam to personally check the cairns that marked its boundaries and report on wildlife sightings — a practice that necessitated camping outdoors for as many as 4 to 5 days, often in inhospitable terrain and inclement weather.
Local Muduvan tribals accompanied the youngsters who were required to submit a joint and detailed report of their observations to the plantation company’s General Manager. This practice, of course, went a long way in instilling in the young recruits a deep appreciation of the outdoors and its denizens, thus furthering the message of conservation so dear to the British.
Incidentally, the aboriginal Muduvan tribals continue to inhabit the fringes of Eravikulam and have traditionally been associated with its management. Indeed, the Park plays a significant role in sustaining them and their culture.
In 1971, the Kerala government took over Eravikulam in its entirety from the tea plantation company. In 1975, it was declared a Wildlife Sanctuary and in 1978 raised to the status of a National Park — Kerala’s first ever. Largely mountainous, the 97-sq.km Park has extensive grasslands, hill ranges and forests. It is rich in biodiversity, being reputed to harbour 48 species of mammals, 133 species of birds, 21 species of amphibians and 101 species of butterflies — a veritable naturalist’s paradise. However, the Park is best known as one of the last and safest refuges of the Nilgiri tahr — the largest viable population of the highly-endangered wild mountain goat is found here.
Dominating Eravikulam like a conscientious sentinel is the 8,841-foot Aneimudi, the highest peak in India south of the Himalayas. As an adventurous youngster, I had climbed Aneimudi twice in 1967 and 1980. To ascend the mist-capped peak and view the truly spectacular panorama it offers was then the cherished dream of every outdoors-loving youngster. In the process, one invariably got to see quite a few of the Park’s wild denizens, notably the Nilgiri tahr and elephants. The jumbos, incidentally, have never been known to ‘discourage’ an expedition to the peak.
In 1997, I got a rare opportunity to fly over Eravikulam in a helicopter. Virtually ringed in by towering mountain ranges with an elevation of between 7,500 to 8,000 feet above sea level, the Park seemed impenetrable from the air — and the aerial vistas are, of course, out of this world.
Now the Eravikulam National Park basically comprises of two prime areas — the tourism zone where visitors can view a herd of virtually ‘domesticated’ Nilgiri tahr in their natural habitat from close quarters and the core area deep in the interior where access is strictly restricted.
Apart from countless nature-lovers, over the years Eravikulam has cast its irresistible spell on scores of nationally and internationally known wildlife scientists, zoologists and conservationists who have waxed eloquent on its charms in the Visitors’ Book.
I was privileged to visit the Park’s core area on two occasions — in 1981 and 1988 — and stay overnight in its spartanly furnished ‘hut’ as the British termed the little lodge there. It was a unique and eye-opening experience. Hemmed in by towering mountains and precipitous cliffs, the feeling of isolation is total and overwhelming. Not a breath of ‘civilisation’ taints the tranquillity of this unspoilt haven as one communes with nature in all its awesome splendour. Eravikulam did enchant me like nothing else ever has.
One sweltering morning, having run out of water while laboriously trekking up a steep ascent in Eravikulam’s Turner’s Valley, I cupped my hands together and slaked my searing thirst from a gurgling stream. The ice-cold water tasted heavenly and reaffirmed what I had been told: that Eravikulam’s water is the purest to be found anywhere in the country. In fact, Eravikulam is a crucial watershed and catchment area for three rivers in Kerala — the Periyar, Chalakudy and Pambar. It is also a vital source of potable water and irrigation for the neighbouring tea estates and agricultural lands downstream.
Many visitors to the Park’s interior return with unforgettable memories — like the gory sight of wild dogs feasting ravenously on a slain sambar; or two stags ‘sparring’, their antlers locked in deadly combat; or a leopard stalking a Nilgiri tahr separated from its herd, or even a tiger majestically sauntering down a hillside. During my second sojourn I spotted a magnificently antlered stag on a hilltop, silhouetted memorably against the setting sun. It was so reminiscent of Sir Edwin Landseer’s iconic 1851 painting of a similar stag titled “The monarch of the glen” that graces the Scottish National Gallery in Edinburgh.
During the British era several planters are known to have had dramatic brushes with wildlife in Eravikulam. While motorcycling into the interior, one Brit ran into an amorous tusker and its mate on a sharp curve. Hastily grounding his motorcycle, he fled, only to find on his return hours later that the unamused pachyderm had disabled his bike by punching two gaping holes through its petrol tank with its tusks! Another Brit was unexpectedly attacked by a giant boar that had apparently been irked by the roar of his 5-horsepower motorbike. The incensed pig unseated him unceremoniously, sending driver and two-wheeler tumbling down the hillside. However, apart from multiple abrasions (and a badly bruised ego!) he was none the worse for the encounter.
Bloodthirsty leeches are often the bane of visitors to Eravikulam’s core area — there aren’t many in the tourism zone. Wet weather sees these parasites proliferate and turn hyperactive. They penetrate every part of one’s body, leaving no body orifices unexplored or unbloodied no matter how well padded one may be! Indeed, during the monsoon, leeches appear to be immune to even the most potent repellants. On my second visit to the Park’s deep interior, I was so badly bitten by leeches that my trousers were stained a dark crimson and I came pretty close to needing a blood transfusion! Even now, more than three decades later, my badly scarred legs bear eloquent testimony to my traumatic brush with them.
Apart from countless nature-lovers, over the years Eravikulam has cast its irresistible spell on scores of nationally and internationally known wildlife scientists, zoologists and conservationists who have waxed eloquent on its charms in the Visitors’ Book. Notable among them is Dr. George B. Schaller of the New York Zoological Society. All these distinguished visitors have been unanimous and categorical in affirming that the Eravikulam National Park should be left in its pristine state, untouched, and the laying of a motorable road into its interior — a suggestion from vested interests that has reared its ugly head in the past — should never ever be considered. For it is the very inaccessibility of the Park’s mountainous interior that has ensured the safety of its endangered wildlife down the decades.
Particularly poignant and impassioned is the plea made by John Gouldsbury in the Visitors’ Book on the eve of his retirement. He was a veteran tea planter in Munnar and an ardent conservationist who was closely associated with the administration of Eravikulam and played a pivotal role in its elevation to a national park. I personally knew him and deeply admired his commitment to conservation.
A true nature-lover cannot easily resist Eravikulam’s potent magnetism. Indeed, few who have explored its deep interiors can remain unaffected by its truly rugged and stark natural beauty and varied wildlife. Unsurprisingly, having drunk deep of Eravikulam’s charms, at 75 I still hanker to trek through this enchanting haven one last time. The spirit is quite willing but, sadly, the flesh is weak literally. So all I can do is to express the fervent hope that the sound of gunfire will never ever be heard again in this unique refuge for wildlife, and poachers and plunderers (and others of their ilk) will be kept out at all costs. Quintessentially, conservation is the state of harmony between Man and Nature, and all that it implies. And Nature, as someone rightly observed, is nothing less than the art of God.
May this national heritage of ours continue to captivate and enthuse future generations of nature-lovers!
