Everything, Everywhere in Mizoram’s Dampa Tiger Reserve

The sudden whirr of cicadas tells us we are nearing Dampa Tiger Reserve long before the signboards appear. We have driven for a few hours through Mizoram’s Kolasib district on a damp, sultry day. Moisture hangs in the air, the scent of fresh rain on green foliage wafting in through the car windows. To our left is an undulating carpet of emerald valleys and purple mountains that melt into azure skies. On the road, gleaming dragonflies dance over transient pools that reflect the sky; females lay eggs as vigilant males fly close, preventing them from mating with other males until they lay their eggs. Rapid wing-to-wing skirmishes between two males add to this fascinating in-flight roadside rhumba. On either side of the tarmac, clusters of butterflies gather nutrients from the moist ground — grass yellows and striped blue crows — mud-puddling in the rain pools. I take my eyes off the swirling-with-life road and look around. Bamboo dominates the landscape, especially in the wide swathes of secondary forest and in the regenerating fallow land under jhum (shifting) cultivation.

We left Aizawl at 4 am, birding along the way as we leisurely covered the 130 kilometres to our destination, the Teirei forest lodge. Our team consisting of wildlife photographer Dhritiman Mukherjee, naturalist Omkar Dharwadkar, filmmaker Tukai Biswas and me, are on the final leg of our exploration of the enigmatic state of Mizoram. After covering Phawngpui National Park and Murlen National Park, we are now traversing the breadth of the state to Dampa Tiger Reserve on the western boundary of Mizoram. The reserve shares borders with Tripura and Bangladesh. In the distance, the slopes of Bangladesh’s Chittagong mountains fill the horizon.

First established in 1985, and declared a tiger reserve almost a decade later in 1994, Dampa, sprawling over 988 square kilometres, is Mizoram’s largest protected area. I read that the reserve has the highest density of clouded leopards (Neofelis nebulosa) in Southeast Asia. Dampa is also home to another felid species, the marbled cat (Pardofelis marmorata), an equally elusive cat that occurs in low densities. In May 2021, a camera trap finally captured a picture of a Bengal tiger here, ending years of speculation about their presence within the reserve. As we wind our way up, the landscape opens up. To our left, oil palm plantations snake down to the valley. On our right, the slopes are cloaked with moist forests typical of Dampa. Even as I wonder if we will catch a glimpse of any cat, a dark blue tiger butterfly (Tirumala septentrionis) flits past my window, reminding me of its place in these ecosystems.

A habitat across international borders

Located within the Indo-Myanmar Biodiversity Hotspot and tucked between porous borders, Dampa Tiger Reserve houses a wealth of flora and fauna. With elevations ranging from 49 to 1,095 metres, the region has historically sheltered insurgents who regularly traverse the forests. News of rebel groups camped along the reserve’s border in 2013 necessitated the construction of border fences and the establishment of border police outposts, with provisions for gaps in the fence to permit animal movement. In 2015, as part of a study to track felid populations, camera traps deployed in the core areas of the reserve revealed armed poachers and insurgents, and the reserve’s remarkable biodiversity. This rich habitat also faces other challenges, like the establishment of oil palm plantations in the buffer areas, and the tricky problems of balancing ecosystem preservation with security maintenance along a porous international border rife with armed insurgents. Notwithstanding these challenges, the reserve, aided by the efforts of passionate local forest guards, has thrived over the years.

We settle into the rustic forest lodge and take in our surroundings. When the all-pervading drone of cicadas abates for a few minutes, we discern other voices from the forest: gentle gurgling of a stream nearby, and insistent hammering of woodpeckers. The call of a hooded pitta, its distinct two-note qweeek-qweeek, and characteristic echoing make it difficult to gauge how near or far the chestnut-headed beauty is. Unexpectedly, from the stand of trees right in front of the sit-out, the undulating “wooo-OOOO” of a thick-billed green pigeon emerges. Watching for movement, I spot the gaily coloured pigeon making sorties between the trees to collect nesting material. 

Throughout the day, the forests reverberate with the sounds of life. In the bottlebrush near our rooms, a parade of avian activity keeps me absorbed through the afternoon — golden-fronted leafbirds, ruby-cheeked sunbirds, and crimson sunbirds, all foraging in quick bursts of activity. Periodically, I scan the tall trees surrounding the lodge for primates, hoping for a lucky sighting of some of Dampa’s denizens — hoolock gibbons, rhesus macaques, Assamese macaques, pig-tailed macaques, stump-tailed macaques, Phayre’s leaf monkeys, capped langurs, and slow lorises.

Nightlife of Dampa Tiger Reserve

That evening, armed with torches, leech socks, and other gear, we set off on a trail into the forest. Perhaps the last remaining low to mid-elevation forest in western Mizoram, Dampa is best explored on foot. Tropical evergreen forests thrive in these moist valleys. As we gain elevation, I notice that the vegetation along the steep slopes consists primarily of moist deciduous flora and clumps of different bamboo species. Higher up, the landscape is dominated by evergreen and semi-evergreen forests with natural grasslands.

On the trail we spot a fruit-piercing moth caterpillar (Erebidae) resting on a twig, set dramatically against a backdrop of “muli” bamboo (Melocanna baccifera). This tropical bamboo is native to Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, Myanmar, and Nepal and flowers synchronically (all at the same time) every 48 to 50 years, giving rise to a phenomenon known as “Mautam”. Following the flowering, abundant fruiting leads to a population explosion of rats, which subsequently also consume local crops and potentially can cause famines.

I’d heard that Phayre’s leaf monkeys (Trachypithecus phayrei), locally called dawr, have been observed sleeping in thick bamboo forests, especially Melocanna baccifera. I keep my eyes open for signs of the spectacled arboreal creatures whose distribution in India is restricted to Assam, Mizoram, and Tripura.

Twilight comes swiftly, painting the forest in dark olive and grey shadows. Scanning the tree trunks with my torch, I spot lantern bugs and huntsman spiders. Ahead, our guide signals urgently, pointing to a tall branch above. Following his movement, our torches find a silent bundle of fur watching us from a perch overhead. We are looking at a particoloured flying squirrel (Hylopetes alboniger). Leeches forgotten, necks craned upwards, we wait, hoping to see the squirrel glide from treetop to treetop. To all appearances, they seem to fly, but flying squirrels actually glide from tree to tree using the parachute-like membrane (patagium) between their front and back limbs. Once airborne, the squirrels navigate using their arms, legs, and tail. It was this navigation I was hoping to see, but the individual seemed quite content observing us while systematically grooming.

Giving up on the flying squirrel, I look down at the forest floor. The moist earth is covered with a merry medley of seeds, leaves, and twigs. Life teems here too. Illuminated by torchlight, a well-concealed frog hops up the path in front of us. There is movement on a rock; an Indian wolf snake (Lycodon aulicus) quickly disappears into the mulch. Further ahead, delicate fae-like bioluminescent mushrooms less than three cm tall glow in the darkness.

Another night, we drive from Terei towards Tripura. The sound of flowing water from rivulets and waterfalls orchestrates a tinkling background score to our drive. Near a waterfall, a collared scops owl makes its presence known with its characteristic call. A short while later, we catch a glimpse of one on a tree. The distinct pale ear tufts and pale face outlined by black remind me of the cartoon drawings of owls we sketched as children. I realise that this outline helps differentiate the species from the similar-looking oriental scops-owl and the mountain scops-owl. Hours later, a flash of red on the side of the road catches our attention. It is a gorgeous MacClelland’s coral snake (Sinomicrurus macclellandi).

Dampa By Day

Early next morning, we set off into the forest again on foot. The habitat changes as we gain height, progressing from bamboo groves to wet evergreen forests. In the bamboo, Phayre’s leaf monkeys watch us quietly, moving swiftly away the moment we spot them — a blur of grey fur and tails navigating the treetops like an expressway. Suddenly the sky darkens, and it begins to rain. Within minutes, water is everywhere— rivulets gurgling along the path, coming down in sheets over the bark of towering trees, large droplets rhythmically dripping down from leaves, and gushing, like swirling streamers, down gnarled climbers. Walking in the lashing rain, we see winged termites emerge in what seems like a synchronised celebration of the downpour.

Suddenly, the path opens up in front of us, and the habitat changes dramatically. Towering Tetrameles trees surround us, their buttressed roots dwarfing even the tallest in our group. A large chocolate-brown and pale bluish-white butterfly, almost the size of a small bird, glides gracefully and alights on a branch nearby. It’s a Northern jungle queen (Stichophthalma camadeva). We also encounter a male red-headed trogon (Harpactes erythrocephalus) perched quietly in the midstory of this dense evergreen forest. I first notice his striking black-and-white tail and then his dramatic scarlet chest and head before he moves to a new perch, turning his fiery orange back to us. Shortly after, we spot the other shy beauty that we had only heard till then — the hooded pitta (Pitta sordida). A few kilometres later, we come across a narrow cave that we learn was a roosting spot for a large colony of fruit bats. 

On our last morning in Dampa, the forests drew apart their curtains again to show us a troupe of Phayre’s leaf monkeys feasting in the trees near the lodge. We spent the morning watching their antics. Dampa’s forests are a sensory experience, often startlingly and unexpectedly so. Even the leeches here are brilliantly coloured, shot with streaks of orange. The sights, sounds, colours, and scents make it a truly immersive experience, where you could, for a brief while, forget about the oil palm plantations and other intrusions nibbling away at the fringes of this lush habitat.

Things to note before you travel to Dampa Tiger Reserve:

1. The nearest airport is Lengpui at Aizawl, and the nearest railhead is Silchar in Assam.

2. The best time to visit is November to March. There is usually heavy rainfall from May to September.

3. Accommodation is available at the Teirei forest lodge.