Text by: Neha Sumitran
It’s a little after dusk on a December evening, and I’m sitting on the terrace of a cottage in Hampi, soaking in the twilight hour. I see clumps of cacti in the foreground, a group of monkeys hanging out in the distance, a lone lizard soaking in the last of the day’s warmth. But mostly, my view is all granite. I see hills of massive boulders, artistically yet precariously piled atop each other.
I breathe deeply, close my eyes, and tune in to the language of the land: the call of geckos, the buzz of nocturnal insects, a distant hoot of a langur, and just when my body begins to loosen up, I hear something unfamiliar from the bushes nearby: a cross between a cough and a growl that instantly puts me on guard.
I squint at the thorny scrub, but I see no movement. I hear the sound again, and I am reminded that I am currently alone, and this is bear country. The hair on my neck stands, my mind accelerates. Part of me feels like I am over-reacting, but I quickly gather my things and return to my room. Some mysteries are best left unsolved.
Sloth bears are found in India, Sri Lanka, Nepal, Bhutan, and Bangladesh, where they occupy lowland tropical forests, scrublands, and grasslands. Daroji Sloth Bear Sanctuary, with 150 bears, is India’s first sanctuary declared exclusively for their conservation. Photo: Shreeram MV
Cover photo: The sloth bear gets its name from its slow, sluggish gait. It has weak eyesight and hearing, but a keen sense of smell helps it navigate its habitat. Cover photo: Shreeram MV
It is day two of my trip to Hampi, and I am eager to learn more about the sloth bear (Melursus ursinus). To me, they are beautiful, curious creatures that have suffered from an undeserved reputation for violent behaviour.
Sloth bears are a shy, silky-haired ursine species inhabiting Karnataka’s boulder lands. “In areas where forest cover is sparse, but daytime temperatures are high,” write Joshi et al., “the bear is principally nocturnal or crepuscular and shelters in rock outcrops, thickets, and tree cavities during the heat of the day.”
Nani, the naturalist from Hampi’s Boulders Resort, who takes us on safari the following morning, tells me that he often sees bears after dark, generally just before dawn. “Depends on the human activity in the area,” he explains. “In remote parts, where there are no humans, the bears might move around even during the day.”
Hampi’s Boulders is part resort and part conservation project occupying36,000 acres close to the Tungabhadra. The land is partly owned by the government and is meant to be a reserve for the region’s flora and fauna, including the sloth bear. In the rainy season, the river swells with the overflow from the dam nearby, creating lots of big and small lagoons, and sculpting the rock into unreal shapes.
(Left) Sloth bears are myrmecophagous, i.e., they eat significant amounts of ants and termites; it is the only prey they consume.(Right) Sloth bears are more vocal than other bear species and have a variety of calls depending on the situation. Photos: Shreeram MV
We spend the morning in the company of birdsong, spotting birds like pittas, francolins, and parakeets, and squinting at the boulders for any signs of a sloth bear. The views are breathtaking: acres and acres of boulder lands dotted with forest and entirely free of human structures. It gives me goosebumps to think that there are few places on earth like this anymore.
Later that evening, I walk to the riverside closer to the resort, stopping near a lagoon bordered by delicate reeds and grasses. The water is green, wonderfully still, and cool to touch, but I’ve been warned about crocs, so I park on a warm granite boulder for some habitat-watching. I see dragonflies and tiny birds, and now and then, a fish jumps out of the water, creating ringed ripples. I see why sloth bears would want to live here: There are plenty of caves to sleep in, shallow pools of water to cool off, running freshwater to drink, and bushes full of berries to eat. Hakuna matata comes to mind.
(Left) Sloth bears have padded paws and curved claws that provide a perfect grip while climbing. Their long, curved claws are perfect for digging through solid termite mounds. (Right) Sloth bears have a special adaptation that allows them to close their nostrils, to ensure insects do not enter the respiratory passages while feeding. Photos: Shreeram MV
The next day while visiting the Vitthala temple, I ask my guide what one should do if faced with a sloth bear. He responds that they are fairly peaceful. “If a bear sees you, be as quiet and still as possible. If you create a ruckus, they will get agitated and enter attack mode.”
The temple sculptures in Hampi are beautiful. But it’s the animal sightings that stay with me: the turtles in the temple pond, the squirrel napping in the shade of a carved door, parakeets chattering on a gnarly old champa tree. It reminds me that we are constantly sharing space with other creatures. The “wild” is not a separate space from us, even in a congested city.
By noon, the heat becomes uncomfortable, and I spend the rest of the afternoon reading Daroji, an Ecological Destination by author-conservationist Samad Kottur. I learn that they are the botanists of this arid region, ensuring the longevity of the forest with their lifestyle. “All the seeds of the fruits consumed pass through an acid treatment in the bear’s gastric system,” Kottur writes. “These seeds are distributed throughout the forest in the form of their scat.” When it rains and the ground moistens, the seeds germinate, and a new tree is born.
Sloth bears have an excellent sense of smell but terrible long-range sight and are easily startled. Some conservationists believe that this is the principal reason for human-bear conflict. Other factors include habitat loss leading to an increased bear presence on the fringes of human habitations, where waste is dumped. The greater the proximity to human presence, the greater the chance of a misstep, especially with communities that may not have the same history of living with bears as locals in Hampi do. Nearly everyone I’ve met has seen one.
Sloth bears eat insects, tiny fruits like berries and seeds like those of the lantana camara(left). (Right) Sloth bears are excellent climbers that scale trees to knock down and feed on honeycombs. Photos: Sagar Gore/Getty Images (left), Akshay Manwani (right)
These melancholy looking bears, with their tiny eyes and downturned mouths, face many threats. Illegal quarrying for granite is the prime reason for habitat loss, but the swell of human urbanisation is also concerning. At one time, sloth bears were poached for their organs’ alleged medicinal value, and young cubs were taken from their mothers and trained as dancing bears. But both activities have thankfully ceased, the book assures me.
When the sun dims, I explore Daroji Sloth Bear Sanctuary in the company of Santosh, the naturalist at JLR Heritage and Wilderness Camp who has lived in Hampi his entire life. The reserve covers an area of roughly 83 sq km and is home to leopards, pangolins, jackals, wild boar, porcupine, sloth bears, and thousands of other creatures. At one point, Santosh stops near a hill with numerous rock caves and pulls out his phone to show us a picture of the same spot taken the previous week. Standing in the centre of the path is an adult leopard, staring coolly into the camera.
With no trails to explore, the safari at Daroji is a little different from other reserves: just a single 8-km jeep path leading to a viewing deck. The deck is open for a few hours everyday when forest guards pour watered jaggery in certain locations. The sugar attracts the bears, allowing visitors like me a glimpse of them from our perch in the viewing area, a few hundred metres away. Due to the distance, there’s no immediate threat to the bears, but still, the performative element of the experience makes me a little uncomfortable.
A female bear pads through the landscape with her cubs on her back, picking ripe berries or inserting her claws into termite mounds. Photo: Gangadhar A G/Shutterstock
I climb the stairs to the deck, pondering this arrangement. Wouldn’t that mess with their natural diet? Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of a sanctuary? My thoughts are interrupted by a squeal from a child seeing his first bear. I scan the horizon until and see a dark blob make its way to the jaggery. Another bear trails, and then, to the collective delight of everyone present, two cubs waddle out behind the adults. Through binoculars, I watch them touch snouts, roll on the ground, and lick the jaggery, and my heart fills up, even though they are no larger than caterpillars from this distance.
Another family of four emerges at a different location, and soon there are ten in sight. Some paw at trees, others lie on the ground, and tiny bears ride the backs of big bears. The sun turns a deep saffron, birds careen through the sky, and a peacock breaks into dance, adding dazzle to the evening tableau.
The drive back is quiet, with everyone lost in thought, lulled by the contemplative spirit of dusk. I recall a chat with a field researcher in Hampi about the bear feeding at Daroji. Off the record, he told me that these daily sightings are one of the reasons that the reserve has remained strictly off-limits to quarrying, even for those with strong political power. Because it proves without a shadow of doubt that there is wildlife in the area. “No need to conduct a study that may or may not be subject to corruption,” he’d said.
It reminds me that conservation matters are never black and white, and the same initiative can have many negative and positive ramifications. I soak in the dying light of the day as birdsong gives way to the pulsating sounds of nocturnal life. I give silent thanks to the people who created this sanctuary and the sloth bears for protecting it.
