Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
quietude that envelops the soul of every nature lover who enters a valley of ancient trees.
Standing on a petal-strewn path in this rare forest offered a taste of what practiced Buddhists
must feel when deep in meditation. A phrase echoed in my head, a phrase that naturalists in
nature know but sometimes fail to name. Like the repetitive refrains of the cuckoos, it was a
welcoming, unshakable song: “
Serenity, serenity
.”
My reverie ended with the sudden arrival and rapid departure of two Americans striding
down the trail. Their Bhutanese guide, who was puffing along behind them, muttered that the
Yanks had decided to cover in one day's walk what our party would do in three. So much
for the sacred art of pausing. The racers failed even to slow down to marvel at the seren-
ade of cuckoos, or the intensity of the purple-barked rhododendrons, or the calming effect
of standing in an old-growth forest. Perhaps the Buddhists are right in observing the nature
of impermanence underlying everything of this Earth, but I wanted to burn into every neur-
on what it was like to stand in such a magnificent forest. I wanted an image that would last
decades, remaining with me when I was too old to climb this ridge again. My sense of moral
superiority evaporated when Mincha struggled up to where I was and asked if I had seen the
American hikers. “You mean the ones who raced through with blinders on?” “Oh yes,” he
replied. “They had four satyr tragopans cross the trail in front of them. You must have just
missed it.”
Now the trail began descending rapidly, and before long we would be out of the altitudinal
range of the evasive tragopans. Up ahead, a shaggy gray-coated mammal bounded across the
trail. A juvenile or yearling yeti? The upright, wagging tail ultimately revealed a village dog
that came up to greet us. We walked along together until we caught up with the cook, who
had a hot lunch waiting. I sat on a rotting log with hemlock and rhododendron seedlings,
sedges, and ferns growing out of it. Finding the dog hungry, I shared my potato pea curry
with the mutt. Later I came across an appropriate Bhutanese proverb, “If merit is to be earned,
be good and kind to dogs.”
There was much to like about this country and its customs, including kindness to dogs. In
other Asian countries, dogs may wander half starving and mange afflicted; the Bhutanese, by
contrast, are typically generous with food and care. Dogs are considered a high rebirth, next
to humans in the chain, bumping the apes back down the list despite all the DNA evidence.
The Bhutanese believe that dogs have intervened on behalf of humans when the gods were
angry with them. Dogs are also said to be helpful in the afterlife: if a human soul is lost in the
darkness of the hereafter, dogs show the way with a light glowing on their tails. Just above
the base of the mountain, my new companion returned my favor. He darted under some brush
and scared up a Kalij pheasant, our first of the journey. Moments later, we were at the edge
of a village and a few minutes from the waiting van.
