Sunday 26 February 2017

Saltpan Blues

Dried, encrusted,
kin of a seabed,

fried fish skeletons,
bones of sea monsters,

snakes slither sideways
across the salt desert

feeding off flies,
dazed and sun-mad,

scales fuelled by rays
intensified.

The islands left behind
in the great retreat

of the waters, stand
as wasteland outcrops.

Saturday 25 February 2017

The Tiger Poet vs. a Terrapin

So Frnywys has been livelier than usual. Last weekend I got involved in a strange incident, which is saying something as strange incidents in Frynwys often equate to really trivial things. However this time it was truly strange, as it involved a terrapin.

Frynwys has a small area of wild land at the bottom of the village. It's not enough to warrant reserve status, but it's home to some wildlife including a pair of buzzards which nest in the nearby trees, fish, frogs and the occasional heron. Given this is fairly typical fauna to find in an area like this, you can imagine my confusion when I spotted a terrapin in the pond.

It was swimming in amongst reeds and pondweed, and when I saw frogspawn near the bank I wondered momentarily if the terrapin had been attracted to the pond by the prospect of a feast. Whatever frogs were in the pond at the time disappeared when I approached but the terrapin stayed. In fact it swam up to me and poked its tiny head out of the water to stare at me. I asked it (which seems a self-defeating exercise) what it was doing in the pond, and then it dived and its brown shell blended in with the muddy water.

After a few minutes of deliberation, I came to the obvious conclusion that someone had released the terrapin into the pond. It wouldn't be the first time; there was a previous incident where someone had released fish into the pond which proceeded to consume the tadpoles, but this was something else. The fact that the reptile had approached me indicated that it was familiar with people, but there wasn't a lot I could do. I thought about trying to capture it so that I could take it home and look after it until someone came to collect it, but I had nothing on me useful to catching terrapins.

So I left. When I got home I told my father about it, and we realised that if we left the terrapin in the pond it could potentially freeze. We're not quite out of winter yet, and I was not confident about the cold-blooded animal's chances when the temperature dropped. With this in mind, we grabbed a bucket and a long pole and headed back to the pond. Just as we were about to reach it, we spotted three teenagers, equipped with small fishing nets and a box, coming the other way. When they saw us they attempted to move out of sight, but we approached and asked if they had caught a terrapin. They told us that they had, albeit it somewhat tentatively, and then we explained the situation. It turned out they had the terrapin in the box and were taking it back to its home; one of the houses in the street behind the forest. Satisfied that the matter was resolved we left.

Is there a moral to this story? Not from a poet's point of view maybe. We deduced afterwards that the terrapin had been released into the pond during the day, if not by the teenagers than by one of their relatives, and they had set out to retrieve it when they returned home after school. I suspect that the teenagers had tried to hide from us because they thought we might have been nature reserve officials. The people in charge of looking after the wild land had acted when fish were released into the pond, putting up a sign explaining the damage and asking for the perpetrator to contact them. Maybe the teenagers were worried about reprisals from wildlife officials and decided to remove the terrapin before any lasting damage was done.

All this resulted in was just an unusual break from the daily pattern of life here in Frynwys. From a purely practical standpoint, the lesson to take away from this strange incident is obvious. Don't release pets into the wild. Not just terrapins, but any domestic animal really. Fortunately, the frogs didn't appear to notice, and the pond can go on being undisturbed. At least until a heron shows up looking for a free lunch.

Friday 17 February 2017

Iguana Nostradamus

Algae going

I was basking on the rocks
on the shores of Fernandina
with half of my colony
nestled together, a scaly thicket.
Then it occurred to me.

Algae going.

The sea is warm of late,
the greenery on the rocks
battered by constant surf
is withering of late,
and I see less of the penguins.

Algae going.

I foresee thunderstorms
as heralds of the warming,
lightning, twisted and contorted,
flashes above the islands.

Algae gone.

The colony is withered,
husks of lizards litter
the petrified beaches
and the skeletal reefs.

Monday 13 February 2017

Night of the Dhole

A whistling scream.

When mist falls on the forest
and the silvery meadows,
deer turn their heads
and dart into the trees.

Peacocks scatter
into the undergrowth.
The last brave sambar
stands in the grass,
spying the forest's edge.

Screams echo.
The sambar takes flight.
A single dhole emerges
from the trees,
with white teeth bared
and a coat of red fur.

The pack scourges the meadows -
infiltrates the forest
as the night draws in.
Wolves flee
from their hungry growls
and voracious yapping.

Somewhere in the darkest tangle
of bamboo thickets, a sleeping tiger
hears the whistling pack
and twitches.

Friday 10 February 2017

The Tiger Poet vs. Kaziranga National Park

If you've been following this blog for a while, you will know that India is a subject I write about a lot. I've had an interest in the country since I was three years old, having watched documentaries about its wildlife on television, and six years ago I got to visit India in person and visit some of its national parks. I visited Kanha and Bandhavgarh National Park in Madhya Pradesh, and while the former in particular was a dream destination for me, there was one park I had hoped to visit maybe on a return journey; Kaziranga.

It seems Kaziranga has been thrust into the spotlight in recent years. Situated on the banks of the Brahmaputra in Assam, India's most easterly state, it has become a conservation success story due to its efforts to preserve the Indian rhinoceros. It has since become even more famous due to visits from the British Royal family and as being one of the locations featured in David Attenborough's Planet Earth II. But now Kaziranga National Park seems to be in the news for other, more worrying reasons. The other day, while finishing my last post, I stumbled upon a BBC News article by Justin Rowlatt detailing the current situation between the forest department which manages Kaziranga and the local people who live on the edge of the park.

 In the last couple of years forest guards have been given extraordinary powers to shoot and kill anyone inside the park who they suspect to be involved in poaching. For many years the forest guards have been involved in a long-term battle against poaching gangs, but the BBC reported that while the number of rhinos killed in the last few years has decreased, the number of people shot by the park guards has reached fifty. Compare this to two people prosecuted for poaching in the last three years and only one forest guard killed by poachers in the past twenty years, it seems there is something amiss with Kaziranga's conservation methods. Add to this allegations of torture by the forest department and evictions of villages along the park border and we have ourselves a truly convoluted situation.

So what can I offer to the discussion? I have spoken about the blight of poaching in some of my poetry, most strongly in 'Ghosts of Sariska' which was my attempt to deal with the Sariska Tiger Reserve poaching scandal in poetic form. It was a case in which an entire population of tigers were killed of by poachers due to a combination of poor management and outdated protection methods. That was in 2005, and India has redoubled its conservation efforts since then. According to the BBC article, this new policy which allows park guards to shoot potential poachers came into force following a recommendation after the number of rhinos lost to poachers more than doubled in 2013. However, this leads to cases where local people with no connection to poaching gangs are getting caught in the crossfire, and this is where conservation crosses the line.

I'm all for increased security to protect endangered species from poachers. It has been proved in other cases such as the Sariska scandal that local people often work with poaching gangs due to the high financial gains involved in trading rhino horns and tiger skins. But shooting and killing people indiscriminately, like something out of a Judge Dredd comic, sends entirely the wrong signal to those communities who can aid the Assam Forest Department's efforts. India has a long history of coexistence with the natural world, and these tribal communities who have lived in the forest for centuries are in an ideal place to aid conservation efforts.

That's not to say that humans and animals should be made to share the same space. The establishment of twenty eight Project Tiger reserves in the 1970s involved the relocation of people and villages, which led to a comeback for tigers in the wild. Nevertheless, the expansion of Kaziranga has turned into a human rights issue, with entire villages being evicted and then demolished, leading to clashes between local people and the police. Also due to the fact that the forest guards are protected from prosecution if they kill someone, it seems as if local people have the cards stacked firmly against them.

I won't pretend to have the answers for this situation. On the one hand it's great to see conservation in India strengthening but disheartening to see such brutal methods being employed. Somehow a balance needs to be struck between the needs of people and animals while still maintaining a firm line against poachers. The comeback of endangered species such as the Indian rhino is a triumph of conservation, but when compared with the human cost it seems that a revaluation of the way forward is desperately needed.

Thursday 9 February 2017

The Tiger Poet vs. Guitars

So recently I started trying to learn the guitar. Seems an odd choice of hobby for a poet who specialises in poetry about tigers. Still, having acquired a guitar from a relative last year, I'm giving it a go.

It didn't take me long to work out how to play single notes and how to pick said notes, but at the moment my repertoire is a bit limited. I'm having difficulty learning basic chords as my fingers aren't sticking together to form them, and somehow I'm failing at strumming as well. Still, I have learned a few select tunes, such as the opening riff from 'Pretty Woman', the Force theme from Star Wars, a couple of tunes from The Lion King, the main riffs played by the Doof Warrior in Mad Max Fury Road and the theme from the film Rango. They're not perfect by any means; the Doof Warrior's riffs in particular sound a bit weird when played on an acoustic, but it's a start.

Playing the guitar is an ideal hobby to have in a village as quiet as Frynwys. At the moment we're being constantly battered by wind and rain and there is a perpetual dimness in the day due to the thick cloud cover. At least I have plenty to distract myself from the dreary weather. If I somehow manage to play chords without string buzz (I'm assuming that's what it's called) I might be able to do something with it.

The guitar I'm learning on is an acoustic-electric (Tanglewood to be precise), and it's already broken one string (in fairness, it was my fault). It's not a bad guitar to learn on; after I finally managed to tune it to standard tuning I was able to play recognisable tunes. The top E string is the worst string for buzzing. If I play it particularly fast it buzzes like a wasp's nest, but it's alright when played slowly.

My early forays into playing the guitar have been quite improvised so far, hence the shortness of this post. However I received a guitar magazine for Christmas last year, and I'm using that to help me progress. Hopefully this time next month I'll be a bit better than a beginner.