Dang: Wild and Wonderful

In late November, there are clear signs of impending winter in Dang, Gujarat’s southernmost district. Early in the morning, the air is chilly, and a curtain of fog hangs over everything, creating a dreamy, filmy effect. Every breath, every word immediately turns into puffs of condensation. It’s a sparsely populated district, so there’s little traffic outside the towns. At that early hour, the roads are even more deserted, so driving through the thickly forested district is exhilarating and rewarding.

There’s no telling what lies around the corner. That morning, our vehicle rounded a bend and startled two red spurfowls pecking by the roadside. Shy and elusive birds, the pair darted into the undergrowth. Even though they stood warily just a few feet inside the thick foliage, low visibility meant they were practically undetected.

Late another evening, we were still processing seeing a pair of mottled wood owls when a leopard streaked past the vehicle and disappeared into the dense forest. Then there has been the recent spotting of a rusty-spotted cat, not recorded in Dang for at least two decades.

The Landscape

Predominantly a mountainous district, Dang’s undulating expanse starts from the rugged Sahyadris and stretches to the edge of the plains. Spread over 1,764 sq km, much of the district lies at an elevation ranging from 300 to 700 metres, with the highest point at 1,300 metres. Nearly 80 per cent of the district is forested, making it possibly one of the most densely forested districts in the country. And with a population of nearly 2.25 lakh, more than 95 per cent of them tribal, it is among the least populated districts in the state. Much of the forested area enjoys various kinds of protection, including two heavily protected areas — Vansda National Park (VNP) and Purna Wildlife Sanctuary (PWS). One of the biggest contributors to the district’s forest wealth is a 1952 diktat that bans tree-felling in large swathes; where it is done, it is heavily state-regulated.

Driving around the district quickly reveals two distinct subregions — lower and upper Dang, each with its own physiography, climate, geology, and vegetation. Two major rivers — Ambika and Purna — are the district’s more iconic ones, with a vast network of tributaries. Between them, they account for some of the most spectacular waterfalls during the monsoon.

Lower Dang has smaller hills that lie between 560 and 590 metres. Here, the vegetation is thick and comprises tall trees.

Upper Dang The elevation in upper Dang ranges from 675 metres to 1,290 metres. The soil can be black and brown. Parts of Upper Dang also have thick forest cover, but it has more extensive grasslands, especially near hilltops and plateaus, than Lower Dang. 

Lowlands

The national park and the wildlife sanctuary are located at relatively lower altitudes. Between them, they have some of the most scenic areas, including stunning waterfalls — Gira, Girmal, Don —that come alive during and soon after the monsoon. While teak and bamboo dominate the greenery, there are also several terminalia species and flowering trees, such as palash and mahua. Some of the Western Ghats’ key animals, such as tiger, sloth bear and sambar, don’t exist here. Leopards, spotted deer, chausingha and other cats are seldom seen here due to the thick forest growth. But the district has enormous avian wealth. Over 300 bird species have been recorded, many present in large numbers. Among them is the endangered forest owlet, which was thought extinct but was rediscovered here after 113 years.

Leaving the relative lowlands and heading up to the top of one of several hills in the district is a rewarding experience. The vegetation changes as thick forests begin to thin out, and suddenly, around a bend, dense greenery turns to carpets of swaying grass and flatland, speckled by an occasional tree. 

Don Hill

At over 1,000 metres, Don Hill is possibly the highest peak, located almost on the border of Dang district, flanked by a small range. It is approached by a winding road that snakes its way up the peak through a series of hairpin bends. The hills are made of striking reddish-brown laterite amidst which grow a variety of trees, some with vivid flowers. These are refuges for a plethora of birds, such as flowerpeckers, golden-fronted leafbirds, warblers, and drongos. The road ends on a vast tabletop, stark and devoid of trees as much as the slopes were packed with them. But the flat land is carpeted with grass, pale golden-red in colour,over a foot tall, and broken intermittently by little shrubs. A little pond functions as a multipurpose watering hole and is shared by cattle, women washing clothes, and cattle egrets.

The area around Don is also unique. While the rest of the district is primarily dry deciduous forests dominated by teak and bamboo, a 10-km stretch near Don is home to evergreen wild mango trees, about 2,700 of them growing on hilly slopes. The area has been a favourite roosting and nesting place for the endangered Indian (Gyps indicus) and white-rumped vultures (Gyps bengalensis). A gigantic sculpture of a vulture dominates one edge of the hilltop. “But there’s not been a sign of either of these species for some time now; even the locals haven’t seen them,” wildlife biologist and researcher Aditya Roy told me. 

The morning I was there, swarms of crag martins flew around, while an occasional raptor (booted eagle, crested eagle, short-toed snake eagle, oriental honey buzzard) flew around high in the sky, circling in thermal columns, looking for prey. Don is also integral to the district in a fundamental sense: it is here that the river Purna takes birth.

Kalam Dunger

Kalam Dunger is another peak close to Waghai but not as high as Don. The approach isn’t as winding either, so driving up is effortless. The tree cover gets thinner with the altitude until it is almost bare at the top. Unlike Don, Dunger’s top is pointy, with sides that fall away sharply. There are just tufts of flat grass and the occasional stunted tree with a hardy bark serving as protection against the frequent stiff breeze. It is also eerily quiet, save for the sound of crickets. A handful of small birds flutter across the tops of trees, chirping excitedly, and a white-eyed buzzard flies in silently to perch on a tree for a short while. Otherwise, there is silence. The peak is an excellent vantage point for stunning 360-degree views of the Sahyadris, fronted by sweeping valleys. It is also the perfect place to catch a breathtaking sunset that starts with the brilliant orange-red orb taking a curtain call behind the mountain range and ends with the skies turning golden pink and then inky black.

Dhodalpada

North of Waghai, a plateau gently rises from its surrounding areas. Here, green bee-eaters, bulbuls, and sparrows share space with a shikra, their deadly enemy. As dusk gives way almost suddenly, a pair of mottled wood owls swoop quietly into a cluster of tall trees on the edge of the hillside. Against the dark sky, they were just dark shapes, their wings spanning an arm’s length. Only one of them was visible in the muted light of a torch. It was a beautiful speckled brown and white specimen with luminous reddish-brown eyes. It watched warily with an intent gaze while keeping an eye on its surroundings and emitted an occasional eerie call that is its trademark. A few minutes later, the pair flew away into the night camouflaged by the darkness, and everything was silent again.

After several days in the district, crisscrossing various topographies, and spending long hours deep in the jungles, it is fascinating how diverse it is. But I come away with the distinct feeling that there’s so much that still remains hidden.