Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
50 animals still exists. Rhinos are not bristly rabbits when it comes to breeding biology. Fe-
males reach sexual maturity at about six years, gestation takes sixteen months, and they give
birth to a single calf on average every three to three and a half years. One key to a rapid re-
bound for any large-bodied rarity is to reduce the loss of adult females. Another is the ability
of large herbivores to adjust a key aspect of their reproductive portfolio, what biologists call
the interbirth interval. Normally, the period between the birth of one calf to a female rhino
and her next birth is almost four years. But a species can cut that period almost in half if it
enjoys excellent forage and plenty of space.
About 150 rhinos lived within a three-hour march of our field station. To search more dis-
tant haunts, we went on safari for two weeks at a time, an experience the trackers and even the
elephants seemed to relish. Typically, we picked camping spots near water and good grazing
for the elephants, deep in the heart of Chitwan's jungles. The safaris began in mid-February,
with the approach of the hot season. The dried-up elephant grass blanketing the floodplains
had been burnt to the ground in fires caused by lightning or set by elephant drivers to improve
forage conditions for the wild grazers. Now a carpet of green shoots attracted herds of deer
and hungry rhinos. Tigers, invisible for most of the year, stalked through the green blades
and charred stems. For a two-month window, the invisible wildlife of the Chitwan grassland
was just as watchable as wildlife in the Serengeti.
When our survey team reached the Narayani River, the western border of Chitwan, we had
come to the park's wildest part. Unlike the animals that lived near our base camp, the rhi-
nos here spooked easily, lacking much exposure to humans or domesticated elephants. They
either ran away as soon as we approached or, in the case of some bulls, ran straight at us.
Near the edge of the Narayani, the elephants spread out on the floodplain. The grass had yet
to burn off here, so it still provided ample cover for the prey of the tiger—sambar deer, axis
deer, hog deer, wild boars. Suddenly Mel Kali, bobbing through the thick grass to our left,
banged her trunk against the ground with a loud thump: she'd picked up the scent of a tiger.
“
Bhaag
,
bhaag!
” the driver whispered gleefully to me. “Tiger, tiger!” He gave the adventur-
ous smile our mahouts flashed whenever danger was at hand. My elephant, Prem Kali, lifted
her trunk over the rustling stalks to sniff the air and brought it down heavily on the ground.
Thump!
Then she emitted a deep rumble, picked up by the other elephants. The grass was so
thick they couldn't see one another, but their subsonic vocalizations helped them communic-
ate the movement of the predator.
The tiger, a big male, waited until we were nearly on top of him before he unleashed a
thundering roar and flashed by us in a blur of orange and black. Unable to contain herself any
longer, Prem Kali trumpeted, and the other elephants echoed her blast. In seconds the tiger
was leagues of grass away.
By the end of the morning, our rhino photo shoot was over for the day and it was time to
meet up for lunch. Kancha Bahadur Lama, another of Vishnu's childhood chums, was our
