'I believe any trip in search of wildlife can be coupled with physical activity and elements of cultural diversity to form a thrilling opportunity '
John H.Eickert
A long, long time ago and a short distance from where I sit now is a wooded pasture. As a boy, I would sneak away during the sweltering August heat to sit high in an umbrella shaped cottonwood tree and watch the cattle
feeding through the long grass along a creek. In August, the bulls would bellow, push, and shove as they positioned themselves for the best cows. The man who owned the cattle and the pasture named the largest of the bulls ‘Ferdinand’. Ferdinand was big and
fierce; he was always ready to fight the younger bulls for dominance. He was all black except for the tip of his nose, which was brown.
Ferdinand spent most of August fighting the younger bulls while I spent August watching the many battles. Of course, as a small boy I was not allowed to be in the pasture alone and if caught a battle would ensue at
home, with my Mother always winning.
And so, I was walking along the crest dividing the Western Ghats with the Eastern Ghats on a path through tall grass in Bandipur. I snuck into a closed area of the park, walking in the dark; afraid to use my headlamp
fearing the light would attract a park ranger. The sun rose and the mountains came alive. Suddenly I heard the sound of trampling hooves and heavy breathing. I crept through the forest until I could see into the glade beyond. Two Gaur bulls were fighting!
They were covered with sweat as they pushed back and forth. One seemed older, larger, and more thickly muscled, while the other smaller but with great stamina. The Gaur is the largest of the existing wild oxen, adult males weighing more than a tonne. They
are a rich red brown in color and can appear black after sweating.
The Gaur is rapidly disappearing in most of its range in India, but is locally common in the south and northeast. Eventually, the two bulls parted, one lay down, and the other ran off. The path I was on took me directly
past the bull that was lying down. As I passed, I could not help but note his dark hide and brown nose. Memories of Ferdinand flooded into my mind and I whistled from the pleasure as I made my way back through the park. Just as I made it to the main road,
two rangers pulled up and gave me a good dressing down for being in a closed area. They escorted me out of Bandipur. I felt lucky to not have been arrested.
Which of the great bull Gaur of Bandipur won the battle? Clearly, I lost the battles with my Mother and the park rangers. I can’t remember ever seeing Ferdinand lose and would prefer to keep my childhood memory that way. That morning, alone on the crest of
the Ghats, the smaller Gaur broke and ran, while the older bull flopped exhausted in the tall grass, the victor.
( Photograph of Indian Gaur: Aditya Singh)
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