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Sunday 29 July 2018

Biological Corridor and Communities in Bhutan, Connectivity at a crossroad

Neither too low into the tropical jungles, and nor too high touching the alpine mountains, but in between are the temperate hills adorned with cool broadleaved forests and mixed conifer trees. Neither a sacred sanctuary of wildlife with strict protections, nor an edge facing the adversity of multifarious modern development, but it is the landscape with purpose; of maintaining diversity, of sustaining community, and most indispensably, of securing connectivity. They are the biological corridors (BCs) of Bhutan, set aside to connect one or more protected areas (PA) and facilitate wildlife movement, first established in 1999, as a gift to the earth from people of Bhutan. Eight in numbers and covering 8.61% of Bhutan’s total area, the BCs together with the PAs today forms the Bhutan Biological Conservation Complex (B2C2), expanding over 50% of the country.
Pristine Forests of Biological Corridor 8 connecting JSWNP to WCNP, as seen from Black Mountains of JSWNP

While the BCs together with the PAs create a beautiful mosaic of a conservation area in Bhutan, little is known about the actual connectivity enabled by the BCs. Conservation funds increased manifolds in the PAs but the indispensable BCs remained neglected. Wildlife thrived in the protected sanctuaries but their status remains ambiguous in the BCs. Park community livelihood was diversified but little did we know that communities at the fringes of BCs were trying their best for the sympatric association with the wildlife around them.  

With an objective to assess the structural connectivity of BC for enabling tiger movement between the national parks, I embarked on a new conservation journey in the spring of 2018. My priority amongst the 8 BCs was for BC8 that is the often called the northern corridor, as it connects parks of central Bhutan like Jigme Singye Wangchuck National Park (JSWNP) and Phrumsengla National Park with protected areas in the north viz, Jigme Dorji National Park, Wangchuck Centennial National Park (WCNP), and Bumdeling Wildlife Sanctuary. Further, I concentrated my work in the portion of BC8 that connects JSWNP with WCNP encompassing an area of 240 sq.km. JSWNP together with Royal Manas National Park (RMNP) was found to be home to around 27 tigers and are described as a potential source population for tigers. The tiger, despite having records of going as high as 4500 masl, the density is much lower in WCNP and its adjacent northern PAs. The sound management of BC8 is vital for population dispersal of tigers from RMNP and JSWNP to northern PAs. I, therefore, felt it’s vital that the structural connectivity is assessed soon, least we know the functional connectivity. Being a Landscape Ecology and Nature Conservation graduate student, I felt the responsibility has befallen me, thus I took the determination to set out.
Late March 2018, researchers marching in snow in BC 8 (3800 masl)

Late March, yet the winter doesn’t seem to have passed the temperate forests of BC8. The first night we were out in the forests and the next morning, we found that we were shrouded under the thick blanket of snow. I was accompanied by two research assistants and two field guides who also served as porters, traversing the hills and meadows which were yet to sprout. In Bhutan, field survey works are strenuous with no access to roads and we have to always hire porters. As per my study design, I am required to cover the entire study area of 240 sq.km within a short duration of one month, to assess the landscape structure, prevalence of large carnivores like tiger and to ascertain the occurrence of ungulate species which are proxy of landscape structure for enabling migratory corridor for large carnivore like tiger. While I will scan the entire area for indirect wildlife evidence like pellets and droppings of sambar or deer and scats of tiger and other felids, I also took along a score of camera traps to be set up for remotely triggering to capture the real-time presence of the species. Besides, I also had to meet many yak herders from the communities in and around the BC to hear their stories on wildlife and to know their perception towards BC and conservation, as I learned that the designated BC 8 is indeed core winter grazing sites for the nomadic herders in Sephu, Wangdue Phodrang. From May until October for six months, the nomadic yak herders move to their summer pasture in alpine meadows of WCNP.

While the snow made environment serene, it wasn’t really a perfect moment for a wildlife surveyor. The forest trails were slippery and there was no hope to find wildlife evidence with snow layering the ground. So I led my team to a community of nomads to hear their stories of herding yaks and encountering tigers. Amongst the nomads was Mr. Wangdi, with whom I had an intense interaction. At the age of 53, Wangdi is at his best with the chores that revolve around his 60 plus yaks, together with his wife and daughter. His winter grazing site falls completely within the BC boundary but he is oblivious of it. Indeed, Wangdi does not have any clue about what biological corridor is. However, he knows a good deal about the tiger and other wildlife. Wangdi has been interacting with wildlife since his childhood days and definitely, he would be familiar with wildlife as he is with his yaks. Out of curiosity, I asked him how often he saw a tiger live but he seems to have not seen it once. “The big animal is an emanation of our local deities so it will be always difficult to see,” he said. The tiger kills, as per their traditional belief, was often attributed to some karmic misfortunes in the family because he says that tiger kills the yaks of a particular family despite all neighbors freely leaving their yaks in the same open forests.
One of the Huts of Mr. Wangdi in BC 8.

Besides the tiger, there are other predators as well in the region. The wild dogs in pack hunt down big yaks and common leopards often take away the young calves. The Himalayan black bear, on the other hand, snatches the kill from tigers, as narrated by Mr. Wangdi. The landscape with forest connectivity hardly disturbed, and with the prevalence of diverse large carnivores, humans and livestock foraying into it means only the inevitable incidents of predation. It is, however, not a new phenomenon but for millennia, our farmers and wildlife have fared well in mutual coexistence. The nomadic herders in the region traditionally practiced Bon-Choe, a religious practice of believing in spirits and local deities with many ridges, trees, and cliffs declared as the abode of the spirits and deities and revering them sacred. Such practice instilled positive affinity towards nature and wildlife by the herders. Today as the shamanistic practice dwindled, herders understand the deeper Buddhist values and they have general abhorrence towards killing, being considered great sin. These are the major determinants of herders’ positive attitude towards wildlife, which enabled the human-wildlife coexistence.  But with changing times and in the face of increased depredation cases, the much-cherished ethic might face an abrupt end.
Chimmi, Wangdis daughter seen milking one of her Bjims.

Being a park official myself, I am aware of the efforts that conservationists put to build community stewardship towards the environment and make them conservation partners. I asked Wangdi if he was ever engaged in programmes developed by conservation agencies for the herders’ welfare but he looked awfully clueless. This was expected as the BCs received lesser priority for management as of now because of many constraints. Wangdi was quick to mention about an ad-hoc monetary compensation that he received for a number of yaks that he lost to tiger a few years ago. Wangdi feels that the tiger and other predators are increasing now with increased protection of wildlife. He lost three sturdy yaks to the tiger during the last winter, which accounts to an economic loss of around USD 1363 at the current market value. “It is a big loss for me and government is not consistent with monetary compensations,” says Wangdi, cautioning he might give up herding in the face of increased predation and better income opportunities. Monetary compensations, anyway were meagre in comparison to the losses that herders suffer.  Once, a normal acceptable phenomenon, his traditional belief is now replaced with expectations, and his age-old tolerance may soon see the substitution by arrogance. After all, why would a nomad care about the endangered species when he receives no tangible benefits of conservation in his backyard?

One of Wangdis yak succumbed to tiger injury in BC8, which was later feasted by bear and vultures.

By virtue of being a conservationist and a government official, it became my responsibility to share with him about the challenges that we face in pursuing conservation. Bhutan’s picturesque landscapes and rich biodiversity attracts high-end tourists, the revenue from which is shared by entire Bhutanese in the form of social services like free healthcare and education. Large cats like tigers are under constant threat from habitat loss and poaching, with the world population not more than 3800 individuals. Bhutan’s is lucky to harbour 103 of them, the number that thrived because of the harmonious coexistence between nature and our people. For a country like Bhutan, losing the tigers would also mean losing our rich cultural values. Tiger is the only animal that connects myth with reality in our Buddhist society. On the other hand, conservation in Bhutan is mostly donor-driven, and it is important that we make use of the fund in innovative ways than delivering measly monetary compensations. Biological corridors are vital for connecting the protected areas, therefore like people in the parks that foster to conservation needs, communities by the BCs will also form the ultimate connecting links.
The Stripe of BC 8 (May 2018)


The next three weeks, I continued with my field surveys and camera trap installation works, but recurring thoughts on the need to revive harmonious human-wildlife coexistence popped in my head. Neither do I want the landscape to be fragmented and tigers lost, nor do I want herders like Wangdi to suffer from predation and give up herding because sustaining both is a prerequisite of a vibrant connectivity. Will BC 8 serve as Corridor of Hope? 

Note: My research in the BC 8 was funded by the National Geographic Society and German Academic Exchange Programme (DAAD), with reassuring support from Department of Forests and Park Services (NCD and JSWNP).

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