Translocation has become a buzzword today as wildlife translocations are being implemented across the country more than ever before, especially in the context of human-elephant conflict. Of late, it seems like not a week passes without some group considering the possibility of translocating a wild animal and others actually doing it. And the reporting of such instances has gathered even more momentum after the recent (2023) episode, wherein the tusker Arikomban, who was allegedly involved in breaking residential and other buildings in search of stored grains, was translocated from Chinnakanal area in Munnar, Kerala to Periyar Tiger Reserve, and subsequently from Cumbum (where the possible exploratory movement of the bull took him) near Theni, Tamil Nadu to Kalakkad Mundanthurai Tiger Reserve, where he now seems to have “settled down”. The “Arikomban issue” is perhaps one of the most “celebrated” wildlife management issues of the recent past, with local and national media reporting the problem for days, often providing live updates of the tusker’s whereabouts. But the larger question we need to ask is: Is this how human-wildlife interaction should be managed? Let’s take a couple of steps back.
The fundamental requirement when dealing with human-elephant interaction is the realisation that it is more a social issue that requires social solutions. Not everything needs to be animal-centric (seen from the animals’ point of view). Often, measures like providing basic information on where elephants are to local residents, installing better street lighting in areas adjoining forested spaces, improving public transport connectivity, and protecting households or croplands using a well-maintained electric fence could address the various facets of this problem.
Translocation of elephants for “problem management” is carried out under the assumption that the animal in question is the “sole reason” for all human-elephant interaction problems in an area. It also assumes that removing the animal (by any means) ensures the area will be devoid of all said problems going forward. Although it sounds like a straightforward argument, the reality is that unless there are some surveillance mechanisms in place, it is difficult or near impossible to ascertain which individual elephant is responsible for losses, be it crops, property, or lives. Additionally, most of these instances happen late at night or during the wee hours of the morning, and multiple elephants are known to use most of these landscapes. Moreover, in the context of loss of human lives, the circumstances often point to accidental encounters and not “attacks” as is widely perceived.
Change of perception
This is where the importance of understanding the species’ ecology and behaviour comes into context. Studies have shown that Asian elephants are habitat generalists; they are known to use semi-disturbed habitats more than mature forests. The larger perception that elephants are or should be in the forests needs to be set aside, and the reality that elephants potentially perceive human-dominated areas, agricultural lands, and plantations as their habitats needs to be acknowledged. Managing human-elephant interactions thus requires the realisation that there is this inevitable overlap in terms of space, and often, time, between elephants and people, and their respective day-to-day activities.
Is translocation the answer?
When we translocate an animal used to feeding on human-subsidised food or agricultural produce, we move or translocate the problem. Such an animal, irrespective of where it is being moved to, will continue its practice of breaking houses or feeding on agricultural crops at the new site, perhaps shifting the problem to newer areas. Translocated animals tend to show exploratory movement behaviour; either they try to move back to the original home range, wander off to other, similar areas with agriculture and habitations, or (in rare cases) settle down in the new area. The translocation exercise will not break the animal’s habit or behaviour pattern. It is often with this in mind that captivity is considered. But again, like translocation, this does not resolve the issue, considering that one animal alone is not the cause of all the losses (in most cases). Under conditions of anonymity, a forest officer working in an area fraught with crop losses due to elephants told me recently that on the nights after an elephant was captured (which was supposed to resolve the issues in that area), they found they had to continue their routine of driving elephants away from croplands, reiterating that removing the single elephant did not resolve the issue. This is evident in the most recent capture cases that have taken place in several landscapes. If removal was to solve the problem, Karnataka’s Hassan region, which has seen the removal of over five dozen elephants in the last three decades, would not have any conflict today.
Adaptable animals
Additionally, reactive measures such as translocation or captivity are considered when other techniques to drive them away fail to keep elephants at bay from human-dominated landscapes and croplands. This, again, is a result of managing the problem while disregarding the species’ behaviour. Elephants are highly adaptable and learn to adjust their responses to measures such as loud noises, vehicles, fire torches, and crackers — all used to drive them away. Over time, they stop responding to these. These confrontational mitigation measures repeatedly deployed also prompt defensive behaviours in elephants. For instance, firecrackers or loud noises could result in mock or actual charges. It is only a matter of time before the elephant gets conditioned to this, continuing this behaviour, resulting in what is then perceived as a “problem animal”. When the issue is handled with the idea that there is a “problem animal” at hand, the solutions proposed are reactive mitigation strategies (such as translocation and capture), and these are often unplanned, unscientific interventions.
Context-specific solutions
Each landscape has a specific issue, often unique to that region, although the general issue being dealt with is human-elephant interaction. Analysing those specific problems helps create tailor-made solutions such as the Early Warning Systems set up in the Anamalai Hills, Tamil Nadu, or the village fences (electric fences installed and maintained by community groups at the village level) in several regions of Sri Lanka. When I suggested fences to some stakeholders in South India, I was told that fences are bound to fail. Ironically, the same stakeholders later also spoke about how elephants now resort to walking on main roads due to plantations on either side being fenced. Fencing requires the right design, and the most successful one is that which plans to keep elephants out of habitations and croplands and not keep them in the forests. That is, keeping elephants inside forests may require hundreds of kilometres of electric fencing on forest perimeters, where maintenance becomes cumbersome, often leading to failure. Alternatively, keeping them out of croplands requires relatively less fencing, and even voluntary maintenance by villagers can ensure its efficacy.
That there will continue to be conflict going forward needs to be acknowledged. There is no point in the future when human-elephant interactions drop to zero. What is needed is to work towards coexistence, and coexistence in this context is not about having an elephant in the backyard and being forced to tolerate it but instead having the right mitigation measures in place to ensure minimal losses on both sides, that is, by addressing the elephant in the room.