The forests of upper India and their inhabitants

Contents

PAGE

INTRODUCTION ------ ix

Chapter I First Glimpse Of The Himalayan Forest - - I

CHAPTER n

CHAPTER HI

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

1831793 vi CONTENTS

CHAPTER VIII

PAGE

CHAPTER IX

THE UPPER VALLEYS AND COUNTRY OF THE BHOTIAS - 86

CHAPTER X

HUNDACE OR HUNDES : THE LAND OF THE HUNS - - 102

CHAPTER XI

GURLA MANDHATA AND THE SOURCES OF THE BRAHMA- PUTRA - - - - - - IIS

CHAPTER XII

PLAINS OF GYANIMA : HOME OF THE * OVIS AMMON ' * 134

CHAPTER XIII

NO man's LAND : RAVINES, DEEP VALLEYS, AND HIGH

CHAPTER XIV

SUBALPINE REGIONS : HEAT, RAIN, AND DRIPPING JUNGLES 1 68

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

FORESTS OF THE BHABAR AND FOOT-HILLS - - I94

CHAPTER XVII

THE TERAI : SPORT OF PRINCES - - - "213

CONTENTS CHAPTER XVIII

PAGE

CHAPTE

$xDrrsjj;>*vX/f /

JUNGLES IN CENTRAL INDIA AND BUNDELKHAND - 257

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

Appendix

on the scientific management of forests - "319

MAP OF UPPER INDIA SHOWING FOREST REGIONS

SKETCH MAP OF HUNDES AND THE HIMALAYAN RANGE

Introduction

The term ' forest ' has always had for me a strange fascination. Dr. Johnson defines a forest as ' a wild, uncultivated tract of ground interspersed with trees.' Italians still call strangers generally forestieri, conveying the idea that all outside the pale of civilization is forest. The Great Hercynian Forest, covering half of Northern Europe, was to the Romans an unknown region of monstrous import. Travellers in Central Africa have scarcely yet penetrated the great Forest, where strange types of men and apes of terrible proportions have been seen by a few. The human race seems actually to have sprung into existence as a forest animal, and the earliest instincts of mankind are now represented by the almost universal love of the chase. Romantic tales like that of Robin Hood and his Foresters bold are still cherished in most civilized countries. In England men still cling to the traditions of foresters, and in Germany they reverence ' the gray and the green.' In India the term ' jungle ' has a similarly wide and uncertain meaning, not necessarily implying trees any more than the Scotch ' deer forest,' but signifying a region where savage animals dwell, and where wild men exist. I have been asked a hundred times what a Forest Officer in India does when engaged in his forest duties. People generally seem to look on the forests there very much as the Italians must have done — as unknown to civilized mankind.

X INTRODUCTION

In commencing to write the following recollections of years spent mostly in the Forests of Upper India, principally in the Himalayas and North- West and Central Provinces, my object will be to record such incidents as may elucidate the conditions of life in the forests, and to treat of the wild animals and men met with and their habits, and also casually of the trees and plants that grow naturally there. I do not pretend to any scientific knowledge of these things, but, being a lover of Nature in all its aspects, I would try and record the results of constant observation made from time to time in the various regions visited, which were to myself highly interesting and instructive, and which I would endeavour to put into intelligible form.

Man was originally a hunting animal, and the instinct certainly is not eradicated among Englishmen yet, though there are some who have not a soul for sport. But to many men, and women too, of our country, the wild Hfe in the forest comes quite natural and has a perfect fascination. To kill something is said by foreigners to be the daily desire of every Saxon. This is often too true ; and that the big game of the world is rapidly and surely becoming extinct is probably due to the persistent energy of the Anglo-Saxon character in acting up to its proclivities. I would not write to assist such exterminators and pothunters, whose selfishness and cruelty cannot be sufficiently reprobated. It is, alas ! too true that as no one will burn an ounce less coal in England because the next generation will surely run short, so the wild animals which a few years back abounded in the vast forests of Africa and Western America are now within measurable distance of becoming extinct, the present generation caring nothing for the next.

But it is not so in India. Nature has there provided

INTRODUCTION x

a safeguard against the entire spoiling of its beautiful and vast forests. During the six months of the rainy season the growth is so luxuriant, and the jungles so impenetrable and unhealthy, that the wild animals have immunity from the persecution of their great enemy, the Saxon man. The natives as a rule do not take animal life ; and the paternal rule of the British Government, though it offers a reward for the destruction of snakes and animals dangerous to life, does not encourage the wholesale slaughter of the harmless creatures which the forest produces and nourishes. India will, I hope, long remain a paradise for the true sportsman, as its forests cannot become denuded of all life and so deprived of half their beauty and interest. In establishing a Forest Department and protecting the timber from destruction, the Government has also extended its protecting arm over the game, so that it shaU not be exterminated in a ruthless and wasteful manner. Nevertheless, game is getting scarcer than it was. I was fortunate in being in the country at a time — shortly after the Mutiny — when game of all kinds was very plentiful, and when in most places it was easy to keep the larder and camp supphed with good venison or winged game ; but to kill females, or slaughter poor innocent creatures simply to make a bag, was not thought of. I have read books on hunting big game, where the writers unblushingly describe their exploits in shooting down multitudes of innocent animals apparently for no object whatsoever. Nor do they even omit to count up the wounded ones. Such descriptions make one sick, and little the wiser as to the nature of the country or the habits of the animals. I shall not endeavour to imitate these wrongly styled sportsmen. My object was to obtain the best specimen of any particular kind of game, and to become acquainted with its conditions of hfe from actual experience, and xli INTRODUCTION

I found this a most interesting pursuit. I would desire to record things that I have seen and incidents, sometimes exciting enough, which come in the ordinary course of a day's work in the forest.

Lastly, I would try and justify the title of these pages by giving to the inquirer about forests some information as to the objects and methods of modern forestry, about which ideas are rather vague. Some imagine that forestry is the science of planting trees in ornamental plantations and lawns, on which subjects whole books have been written, with full instructions for each time of year, under the title of ' Forestry.' Some imagine that it has something to do with French or German, and that to understand about trees one must think in one or both of these languages. I quite agree that those nations are far ahead of England in the science of forestry ; and having spent some time in Germany studying their system of management, I consider there is no better school or system ; but when the writer commenced the survey of forests in India it was far more useful to be able to swear roundly in Hindustani, without striking or losing one's temper, than to talk French. Some, again, imagine that cutting timber is the principal work of a forester, and that a good axe is the most essential implement. In the Indian forests I have always found a good rifle and a kukri* the most useful weapons ; while to be able to ride all day on an elephant without feeling the sun, and to camp out in all seasons of intense heat on the plains and of intense cold on the highest hills in the world, without taking fever, and to be always ready for a long march on foot, horse, or elephant, and for a good venison steak at the end of it, were the most approved capabihties of a Forest Officer.

The Forest Department was started, shortly before the * Gurkha hunting-knife.

INTRODUCTION xiii

writer entered it, because Government became aware that the magnificent forests of India and Burma were being worked by private enterprise in a reckless and wasteful manner, and were likely to become exhausted if supervision were not exercised. In a country possessing thousands of square miles* of timber-growing jungle, it was found that timber for sleepers had to be imported from Norway for railway construction. The European pine wood, even when creosoted, did not remain sound for long in the climate of India, where the great alternations of extreme drought and damp heat affect timber rapidly and cause it soon to decay. The hard and heavy native timbers, such as teak and sal, are more suitable for withstanding the climate than any European wood. It became absolutely necessary to grow a constant supply of native timber, and for that purpose the existing forests were given into the charge of the new Forest Department under the supervision of skilled officers. Government availed itself of the services of what it could obtain most suitable, and selected a well-known specialist, Dr. Brandis,t who was experienced in the German system of forest management, as Inspector-General of Forests. There were, beside the known teak and sal forests, great areas of waste land under jungle of sorts, almost unexplored. In order to bring these under supervision and ascertain what was worth protecting. Forest Surveyors were appointed. The writer and two assistants were selected for that post in the North-West Provinces by the Lieutenant-Governor.

Prior to this my work had been, though not actually in the Forest Department, still very much in the forest. I was employed in engineering and constructing a road

* In India and Burma 80,000,000 acres, f Now Sir Dietrich Brandis.

xiv INTRODUCTION

from the foot of the hills up to the hill-station of Naini Tal. Road-constructing is a very important operation, which comes necessarily into the work of Forest Officers ; therefore I make no apology for including it in these recollections, and describing the work and its incidents first. Next will follow the story of the surveying of the forests, both in the hills and in the plains of North-West and Central India. Lastly I will treat of later experiences in the duties of a Forest Conservator, and the management of forests generally, and work in the districts of Gorakhpur and the Nerbudda valley and Satpura hills, in the Central Provinces.

CHAPTER I

A LINE of deep red along the eastern horizon was the first signal of dawn, after a hot night of pitchy blackness. The morning of October i6, 1861, was breaking. The dust of an unmetalled road, with the dense smoke of flaring torches, had filled the air all night long and made it unbreathable. The monotonous ' Huh, huh ! huh, huh !' of the black and perspiring kahars, or dooly-bearers, as they struggled along under the weight of a primitive apparatus, made of canvas stretched on a rough framework, and called a ' dooly,' had made the night appear everlasting. There had never been a chance of five minutes' consecutive sleep for the weary traveller reclining within. The long bamboo on which the vehicle hung, borne on the shoulders of four men, while four more ran beside, taking shift every five minutes, following the masalchi, or torch-bearer, swung horribly from the trotting motion of the bearers. The suffering traveller who was borne along on that sultry night through the Terai, by the broad straight road leading from Bareilly to the foot of the Himalayan hills, would occasionally express his dissatisfaction at the swinging motion by plaintive com-

I mands. ' Step out of time ' is the usual form of instruction given by the chaudhri, or head bearer ; for the art of carrying a dooly steadily at a semi-running pace is never to step in time together, an error which causes the bamboo to bend with the steps of the kahars, and the unlucky passenger to be shot up and down on the elastic cordlaced bottom of the dooly like a pea on a drum. Each man is ready enough to give the order to his bhai or brother, but the steps would invariably relapse into the regular beat, of which a soldier marching would be proud, and the pole would bend and rebound with provoking elasticity. The sliding-doors at each side, if closed to keep out the dust and flare of the smelly torches, would also exclude what slight air might be stirring, and the heat inside would be stifling. Added to these discomforts, the uncertainty of finding the fresh relays of bearers at each ten mile chauki, or change, and the yelling of the tired men to announce their arrival to the fresh bearers, who might be asleep by the roadside, or perhaps still in their village, had also a disturbing effect on the traveller's sleep. Ditto the demands for backshish in addition to the legal pay already given when the dak is laid, in consideration for the unexceptionable excellence of the manner in which the stage had been performed.

Notwithstanding these drawbacks, the traveller generally found himself at the end of his forty or fifty miles' night journey by dooly dak not much the worse for a bad night's rest. He could lie at full length, and had the comfort of his own pillow and blankets, also a store of provisions and — most important — drink on the shelf above his toes. When used to it, a night's journey was about the easiest way of avoiding the sun and getting over a good many miles of road where wheeled vehicles could not travel at all, crossing ravines and water-pools in perfect safety. It was considered in those days quite luxurious. The traveller's light portmanteaux were borne by hahangi wallahs, who accompanied the dak, swung at each end of the bahangi, an elastic yoke of split bamboo, across its bearer's shoulder. In these days of railway travelling, with sleeping and dining cars and every modem improvement, the comfort of the passenger may be superior, but he does not gain any experience of the country he passes rapidly through. He scarcely sees the scenery, and has often not an idea what the physical character of the land is like, or the people inhabiting it. His eye dwells more on the pattern of the lining of the railway carriages than the beauties of nature, and his ear, instead of receiving the new sounds of interest afforded by the language of the natives, becomes weary of the steam whistle and the invitation to feed of the cosmopolitan waiter. To have travelled through India in the old ways, by dooly dak, gharry dak, and bullock-train, not to speak of marching and the more rapid post -cart, is an experience worth having gone through. These thoroughly Indian methods of locomotion, the only ones in John Company's days, were no doubt tedious and fuU of discomfort ; but the pleasure and excitement of seeing a new country on the same level as its inhabitants, and in the true Oriental manner customary in India from times immemorial, leave an impression of interest on the mind never afterwards effaced.

The breaking of the glorious day in India after such a night of darkness and uncertainty is a pleasant relief. Weariness and relaxation rapidly give way to freshness and a feeling of exhilaration as the crisp morning air is felt, and the Hght rapidly increases till the sun makes its way upwards. The first glimpse of the great wall of forest-clad mountains is obtained through the long vista ahead. The swamps and tall feathery jungle-grass of the Terai had been passed in the darkness twenty miles astern, and had given place to the dark green forests of the Bhabar through which the road was cut. This great belt of jungle, principally a close mass of tall evergreen sal trees, extends all along the base of the foot hills for hundreds of miles and ten to twenty in width, scarcely penetrated except on elephants, when the jungle fires have cleared out the luxuriant undergrowth which springs up in the rains. It is the home of every wild animal, from the elephant downwards. Troops of great white langur apes, with long tails and black grinning faces and hands, bound across the path and leap from tree to tree.

The approach to the mighty Himalayas, after seeing nothing but the dead level of the plains for so long, is very impressive, and strikes the traveller with strange anticipations. There above and before him tower the great forest-clad hills. Under his feet are actual round stones, which remind him of northern highlands, and in the blue haze of the mountains above he fancies he can see precipices of real solid rock. Beyond those distant summits which rise one over another, he knows, though he cannot see them, that there lies the everlasting snow-clad range of the most lofty mountains in the world. The snowy range can be seen only rarely from Bareilly, on clear days glistening like opal among the clouds loo miles away. No wonder that the natives of the plains reverence, and fear to approach, these mysterious mountains, and do not credit that any man could walk up there without falling down. The inhabitants of the vast plains of Bengal and the Doab have most of them never seen a stone, as the level and dusty surface is all deep alluvial. To those even who have lived in moderately hilly countries, the sudden rise from the plains of the huge mountains of the Himalayas, with slopes and buttresses extending seventy miles from the summit, seeming like a great wall rising straight up from the plain, as the first view breaks suddenly on the sight, is mysterious and impressive, and hard to realize.

Let us sit and wonder at this scene in the verandah of the friendly rest-house which a parental Government has erected at Kaladungi (' Black Forest '), where necessary refreshment is supplied at a trifling expense. Fresh eggs and crisp chapatis are not bad fare, and the flavour and aroma of hill tea that comes straight from the Kumaon tea gardens, with sweet goat's milk, are not to be surpassed.

The group of chattering kahars, or dooly-bearers, who sit near the verandah, smoking their hubble-bubbles, squatting on their heels wrapped in brown blankets, as if it was freezing, reminds one that these tired, half-naked and very starv^ed-looking natives of the fever-stricken Terai are waiting for their backshish, and anxious to return to their villages some twenty miles distant. Soon they are dismissed with a rupee among the lot, to add to the six annas each man has already received from the chaudhri, with perhaps the usual deductions. They are bad specimens of a nimble-footed and wiry race being decimated at this season by Terai fever, and cannot compare with the Rohilkhand kahar, who can do his sixty miles at a trot and eat only once a day.

Soon it is time to be stirring, as to-night we shall sleep 7,000 feet above the sea, in the beautiful sanatorium of Naini Tal.

A hill pony of the Bhotia race, sturdy and shaggy and about thirteen hands high, is ready for the ascent ; and paharis, or hill coolies, are started by the chaprasi in charge, carrying the bedding and light baggage. The ser\^ants, horses, and heavy baggage will arrive some days later, having marched from the Punjab with a ' hackery,' or bullock cart.

Those who have ridden by the now little-frequented track from Kaladungi to Naini Tal will recollect the ever-changing experiences of that fifteen mile ride. The ascent is gradual at first ; the road, which is a bridle-path cut through the dense sal forest on the side of the hill, following sometimes the steep spurs of the mountain, and sometimes the narrow valleys with gurgling streams ; generally in the shade of evergreen trees, but often in the glare of a tropical sun. Looking back, there are occasional views of the plains below covered with endless dark-green forests of the tall and thick-foliaged sal and saj. The path-like glades and winding courses of the rivers with white, dry, shingly beds, are mapped out beneath. At this season the water which flows from the hills is all underground in the Bhabar, filtering through the shingle which has been swept down from the hills during the rains ; when the rivers are foaming torrents, trending all away to the south till they disappear into the swamps of the Terai, now an ocean of yellow waving grass. The panorama becomes wider and more indistinct as one ascends, losing itself in a horizon of blue distant haze. Above, against the sky-line, there presently appear pillar-like stems, with bright-green tufted fohage, of the long-leaved tropical pine {Ptnus longifolia) , which at 4,000 feet takes the place of the black-stemmed sal. Higher up, the forest changes to evergreen oaks of three or four kinds, and eventually to cypress and rhododendrons with profuse globes of scarlet blossom, now nearly over. There is always a rich undergrowth of elephant creepers and bright flowering begonias, followed by berberis and every sort of shrub and fern. Orchids hang from the tree-stems in quaint fashion, and the dwarf date-palm forms a graceful undergrowth. The sunny sides of the ravines bristle with cactus-hke prickly stems of the five-sided euphorbia.* Cultivation in terraces appears in the valleys, where rice has been grown, and villages of stone-built houses roofed with shingles are occasionally met with. The inhabitants are of a new character, being Kumaon paharts, or hill-men, a hard-working and wiry race. Near the villages are plantain groves laden with spikes of fine fruit, and lemons and pommeloes adorn the gardens. Apricots, ginger, and oranges are also grown. The zamindars, or landowners, are better clothed and healthier-looking than those of the plains, but goitre is not infrequent. The lower villages are mostly deserted in the hot weather, and the families move higher up. Charcoal-burning is largely practised ; and the smelting of iron, which is found in the hills, has long been an industry, as shown by abandoned smelting furnaces and limekilns rudely built of sandstone.

A strange queer bird frequents these lower forests, called the rhinoceros hombill.f He flaps along from tree to tree, as big as a goose, with dull yellow and black plumage, short wings, like a huge magpie, and long tail, making a panting sound like the piston of an engine ; but his huge head, with Israelitish expression, is his most remarkable feature, and the great yellow and scarlet knob on his hooked bill gives him a top-heavy appearance. He hghts on a bough as if he had never done so before, and balances himself with difficulty, only saving himself from falling by jerks of his ugly tail. He looks down at an intruder with a cunning expression in his small beady eye, and when he opens his big mouth there is a noise that would frighten a jackass of the strongest nerves.

His whole aspect and colouring are in the worst of taste, and he succeeds in being amusing without intending it in the least.

The sturdy, sure-footed pony struggles on gallantly upwards, with occasional halts to graze for a bit on the patches of real green herbage, which become more frequent as the forest is left behind, and the hills become barer and more precipitous ; yet still the chffs tower higher, and another appears against the sky as if the summit would never be reached. The rock becomes shaly and disintegrated, and looks as if the mountain was ready to topple down into the abyss below. One great landslip has already occurred, where at least a thousand feet of the precipice have gone down, leaving an awful gash in the mountain breast, where parti-coloured strata are laid bare sloping at a high angle against the sky, blocking up the khud below with acres of confused ruin. The path zigzags frantically towards a gap in the overhanging cliffs, and at length emerges on the ghat, when the scene suddenly changes and the path begins to descend through forests of oak and rhododendron into the peaceful valley of Naini Tal. Presently glimpses are obtained of the shining green waters of the lake, and pretty, red-roofed bungalows and an English church come into view. Cypresses* with pointed feathery shapes clothe the circle of surrounding hills, headed by the lofty peak of China Pahar. A wider road rejoices in the familiar name of the Mall. Evening closes rapidly. The traveller is directed to the hotel, and his journey is at an end.

To describe the well-known hill-station of Naini Tal

would be superfluous in these days, when so many go to

India and in India so many go to the hills. In the year

1861, however, it was a much more primitive place than

* Cupressus torulosa.

it is at present. It had only recently been adopted as a sanatorium for troops. The Commissioner of Kumaon, Colonel Ramsay, C.B., had some years previously discovered it. There was in those days only a vague report of a beautiful and sacred valley high up in the mountains, uninhabited by any save a few jogis, or priests, but no path was known leading to it. Colonel Ramsay had gone on an expedition to explore the lofty peak of China Pahar, and came suddenly upon the lake nestled in the secluded valley close under the summit. It is not a crater, being on stratified shaly rock, and was probably formed by a gigantic slip down of half the mountain. There is no decided stream running into it, except a small one which comes out of Sukha Tal, a now ' dry lake ' basin, and there is no proper overflow from it except in the rains. The water goes out in a subterranean passage, bursting forth in a good-sized torrent among the precipices at the lower end of the basin. It is surrounded by steep hiUs on every side, apparently clothed with dense jungle of evergreen oaks with silvery under-sides to their shiny leaves, and other beautiful evergreens. The forest was then a favourite haunt of wild animals, sambur deer and gooral (the Himalayan chamois), bears and tigers. Colonel Ramsay used to say he had seen a herd of wild elephants climbing the steep slopes of China, and that he had had such shooting as he had nowhere else found the equal of. In those early days a very steep path had been engineered up the face of the precipice from the Juli side, up which everything had to be carried on coolies' heads. Now there was a native bazaar and a number of fine level roads winding about the hill slopes, and about fifty picturesque bungalows had been built, all roofed with sheet iron, and barracks built of stone. Timber was plentiful, and lime was burnt on the spot. Colonel Ramsay, who had built lo THE FORESTS OF UPPER INDIA

for himself a fine two-storied house, with glazed-in verandahs, on a plateau of Aya Pathar, found it a delightful residence for the hot weather ; and Naini Tal had become the summer headquarters of the North- West Provinces Government. The Lieutenant-Governor had his residence there, as well as other officials, and it soon attracted the many sufferers from the heat of the plains, and was the resort of retired servants of John Company who preferred to live out their days in the country to which they had got used, and which they loved as their home and the scene of hard and interesting lifelong work among the friends they trusted.

The difficulties of supplying a colony so large, and including invalid troops, where even the Mem Sahib's piano had to be carried up by coolies, were becoming aggravated. Government therefore decided to construct a cart-road to connect so important a station with the plains. In those days of activity and fresh awakening after the terrible troubles of the Mutiny, there was very little red tape or routine about the Government. Men of the right stamp had shone out, and worked the machine, while the inefficient and slow had dropped out of authority. Conspicuous as one who had formed and administered the provinces of Garhwal and Kumaon from their acquisition, with brilliant success, was the well-proved and honoured Colonel Henry Ramsay, C.B.,* Commissioner of Kumaon and Garhwal. He had saved his division by his prompt action in promising the Gurkha sepoys the contents of the treasury at Almora, when the fate of India was hanging on a thread as it were, during the worst period of the Mutiny, when not a European soldier was near to protect the hundreds of women and children, refugees from Mussooree and the plains. He was the acknowledged * Afterwards Hon, Sir Henry Ramsay, K.C.B.

FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE HIMALAYAN FOREST il

autocrat of the hill provinces, and beloved by his faithful paharis. He not only ruled and protected the people, but also developed with skiU and energy the resources of the district. He carried out extensive irrigation works at the foot of the hills, bringing vast areas under cultivation, and constructed good roads everywhere ; he also, as Conservator, managed the extensive forests, containing fine timber for building and construction. His energy and ability knew no bounds. To be posted to the appointment under so able a chief on this work was a piece of good fortune to the writer of these recollections. To carry out his wishes and instructions was a pleasure, and to secure the friendship and good opinion of such a man was to attain distinction. That all his officers loved him was no wonder, as his commands were always intelligible, and he never interfered except to assist. That his subjects, the long misgoverned hill-men, worshipped him as their Mahap (father and mother) and Garih Parwar (Protector of the Poor) is a matter of history.