New Year’s day, January 1, 2023, unleashed merriment at the Jainti dam in the foothills behind Chandigarh. Crowds picnicked and blared loud music. Youths on motorbikes drove along hillsides to indulge in alcohol and drugs in the bushes. The ancient temple of Jainti Majri, perched on a high hill over the dam, regaled the countryside for miles with religious fervour, its loudspeaker at full blast.
In the gnarl of marshes and waters below, the “Yamraj of metal traps” was advancing upon an outcaste cow, the snorts and bellows of his carrier bull loud as temple broadcasts. If only we could have heard them as clearly. A cow was in great pain but she bore it with unbelievable serenity. It had been, perhaps, her lot in life. She had for no fault of her’s fallen victim to a grotesque metal trap set by the ‘Bangalas’, a tribe, some of whose members indulge in horrific poaching.
These soulless poachers, who think of creatures as nothing more than ambling stones, had laid the trap along a wildlife trail snaking through marshes.Their targets: jackal, sambar or wild boar. But the trap had virtually cut through just above a wandering cow’s foreleg. She had been turned out of the village on attaining “milkless-ness” and was living her remaining years by the waters that provided lush wild fodder. Her final years, as an unwanted “junglee / awaara” cow.
Trapped now by a vicious twist to her cruel destiny, she was gingerly limping about, carrying the burden of blood, mashed bone and a heavy trap. Infection had set in, but she did not so much as utter a moo — only the recurrent twinge of her maimed leg articulated the pain welling over. After the trap’s bulldog-like jaws had gnawed deep into her, it was the turn of frosty air to invade her open wound and make every nerve ending in her scream. Only she could have truly expressed her lonely ordeal; an empathetic observer’s words would dangle in impotence.
{{/usCountry}}Trapped now by a vicious twist to her cruel destiny, she was gingerly limping about, carrying the burden of blood, mashed bone and a heavy trap. Infection had set in, but she did not so much as utter a moo — only the recurrent twinge of her maimed leg articulated the pain welling over. After the trap’s bulldog-like jaws had gnawed deep into her, it was the turn of frosty air to invade her open wound and make every nerve ending in her scream. Only she could have truly expressed her lonely ordeal; an empathetic observer’s words would dangle in impotence.
{{/usCountry}}I had stumbled upon this “cow on death row” on January 1 while searching for large owls in the marsh trees. I drew the attention of a Gujjar villager who was cutting grass nearby for his cattle. The kind man promised to remove the trap the next day with the help of fellow villagers.
“These wildlife traps are frequently used along the foothills and dogs / cows get snared. A leopard cub died after wandering with the trap for two days, entered village Thathal, Una, but received no assistance from wildlife officials. A pregnant Neelgai got trapped near Kathgarh, Ropar. In shock, she delivered the fawn prematurely. It was raining, it was cold. Mother and fawn died,” Honorary Wildlife Warden, SBS Nagar, Nikhil Sanger, told this writer.
What is cold
The unrelenting cold wave has robbed us all of daily, life-giving sunshine. It is unsparing. Harnoor Kaur of Sector 80, Mohali, discovered a Barn owl in peculiar circumstances in her front yard on Friday morning, perched quaintly on a bucket by her car. Kaur thought it would fly away but she came across it lying motionless in the evening. She then requisitioned the assistance of birders, Anu Garg and Professor Gurpartap Singh.
“I found the owl frozen. I tried artificial respiration by blowing in quick breaths by sealing my lips around the beak and gentle chest compressions. I placed the owl in my lap and sat in front of a hot air blower, hoping in vain the blood would warm up. I surmise it died of extreme cold,” Professor Singh told this writer.
When chancing upon a bird or creature in abnormal circumstances (such as an immobile bird not showing wariness of humans or being hounded by street dogs), requisition a rescue team immediately. But take care to exercise due discretion. Do not always press the panic button because creatures may need little or no help at all. Such as when a hawk is killing a dove. Or, when encountering a snake or sambar at the fringes of public spaces. It will find its own way if not hounded by a rescue team summoned by over-concerned people. Such “rescue efforts” may lead to the creature injuring itself, suffering trauma and end up getting ousted from its home, sweet home to exile in a faraway, remote jungle.
vjswild1@gmail.com