The Clouded Leopard

Anurag Mishra
10 min readMay 2, 2020

The hills of Sessa Orchid Sanctuary diminished in the distance as our jeep carried us away from Eaglenest Wildlife Sanctuary, towards Bhalukpong, the entry point into the West Kameng district of Arunachal Pradesh from Assam. To the left meandered the Kameng river, bordering the eastern-most ranges of the Pakke Tiger Reserve. Fed with the torrential monsoon downpour, the river raged with brown, murky waters. Monsoons are at their peak at this time of the year in northeast India, and the resultant mist and the occasional mudslide impeded our journey almost every hour.

I was on my way to Talley Valley Wildlife Sanctuary after a month of fieldwork in Eaglenest. The route to Talley took us back into Assam from Arunachal, across the Kameng river again, now known as the Jia Bhorelli in Assam plains, and back into Arunachal at Lower Subansiri district. Talley is a plateau near Ziro, the headquarters of Lower Subansiri district. The northeast of India remains shrouded in mysteries, disconnected from mainland India till very recently. Situated at the conjunction of different zoogeographic regions and tectonic plates, this region hosts incredible biodiversity, not seen anywhere else in the world.

I had been involved in a long term project studying the altitudinal distribution of herpetofauna across massifs of the Eastern Himalayas. My summer vacations were reserved for this beautiful place with its many hidden wonders. Beginning in 2011, this was my third trip to Arunachal Pradesh. The trip to Talley was a recce to see if we could add more meaningful data from this locality. Using data from field surveys and insight from DNA sequences, we hoped to better understand the biogeography of reptiles and amphibians in this very unique landscape.

For field biologists, a recce trip is among the most cherished of all field experiences. Most often, field seasons are short because of limited budgets and stressful because of the pressing need to get so much data in so little time. Even though we work in some of the most spectacular places the planet has to offer and absolutely enjoy the science we do, there is often a pang of nagging guilt, that caught up with data collection; we never quite have enough time to explore the multitude of things that field sites have on offer. A recce trip, however, is a chance to explore a place without data at the back of the mind, and exploring a place for the sake of exploring it — quite nothing like it!

We reached Ziro late in the evening, and the exhaustion from the journey meant we curled up into our sleeping bags early. Talley is a typical montane rainforest, in so many ways similar to Eaglenest Wildlife Sanctuary where I had been working last month, and also over the past two summers. The reputation of Talley Valley, however, comes from it being home to one of the most elusive animals — The Clouded Leopard. An inhabitant of high elevation cloud forests, very little is known about it. Encounters in the wild are rare, and even though I should be thinking about the frogs, lizards and snakes, even though my interest in mammals is rather lukewarm, my mind, for now, is pre-occupied with this mysterious creature. The expedition has not started in earnest, yet I knew I in my mind, nothing in this trip would compensate not being able to get a glimpse of this elusive cat. Will I count myself among the few lucky ones to have seen it in the wild? I could not wait for the remainder of the days here to unravel.

Ziro in the monsoons. Somewhere amidst this greenery takes place the Ziro Music festival every year.

Very unlike towns in Northeast India, Ziro welcomed us with wide roads that run along verdant paddy fields. Ziro is the land of the Apatani tribe, famed for their innovative and sustainable practices in agriculture. The farthest our field vehicle took us was Mani Palyang, a small village at the edge of the sanctuary limits. A week’s worth of supplies was picked up at the only store in this village, which to my surprise had mini Toblerone bars. We parted ways with the driver, who would pick us up from this very spot two weeks later and began the 8km trek up to Pange valley, which was to be our base camp for the expedition. Sunny days in this part of the country, at this time of the year are hard to come by, and we thanked our luck as we saw no hanging clouds in the sky. The short burst of sun had brought out numerous species of butterflies. Once in a while, we came across mithuns — large domesticated bovines kept by inhabitants of hill forests, which are an indicator of social status and serve as dowry during marriages among the Apatanis. We trod our path cautiously around them, making sure we don’t disturb them as they peacefully nibbled on the grass.

A Mithun welcomes us into Pange

Pange is a small settlement in the middle of the forest at about 1800m above sea level, with concrete houses and water on tap. After a month of lugging buckets of water from streams and tents that came apart in heavy rains, this was luxury. A picturesque wooden hut was used as a kitchen, and a little stream flew right by the camp — seemed picture perfect!

Moonlit nights at the camp

Surveying for frogs and reptiles happened after dusk, and we had the mornings to amble leisurely in the jungle, watch birds and butterflies. We overturned rocks, hoping to find snakes resting in the day time, but only come away with a few scorpions. Green Rat Snakes are common around the camp; spectacular green with black stripes along the length of its body, in sharp contrast to the dirty brown colouration of its mainland counterpart. Flycatchers, Leothrix, Warblers and Babblers flit about in the forest understory when it is sunny.

Himalayan Tree Frog — Among the most common animals around the camp
Green Tree Frog
The quite stunning Green Rat Snake
Red-Billed Leothrix
Blue Winged Minla

The vegetation at this elevation is typical of tropical rainforests — high trees with dense canopy, so dense that sometimes looking up from jungle trails one won’t see the sky through it. It didn’t take long to realise the Clouded Leopard in this landscape was the proverbial needle in a haystack. The peak of monsoons also meant vital signs that could give away its presence, such as scat or paw impressions would be washed away. There was just no way we could systematically work towards increasing our chances of seeing one. If we did get a glimpse, it would be as opportunistic as it can possibly be. Oddly, the realisation that it was beyond our hands brought a strange sense of relief.

After a few nights of surveys around Pange, we made the decision to go deeper into the Valley Camp, a rough 12km trek uphill through abandoned, non-motorable trails. On the way up, the thick rainforest canopy gave way to more temperate pines and silver firs. Mist shrouded around us, even at the middle of the day and the winds high up were chilly. With vegetation growing sparser as we climbed up till the crest line and descended into the valley, it seemed this trail was our best chance of spotting the Clouded Leopard. The thick canopy, typical of rainforests gave way to pines and silver firs. I kept an eye out on the branches hanging over the trails that look green with moss, hoping to see a resting Clouded Leopard with its long tail hanging down nonchalantly, just like I had seen in the few pictures of this animal that exist.

I had to wait for another time to see one, as we reached the Valley Camp in the late afternoon. Rather, late afternoon by Indian Standard Time, but almost sunset in this far-flung eastern land. Nimapema mountain range of Bhutan looked majestic in the distance against the setting sun. The valley falls in the leeward side of the mountain, making it receive much lesser rainfall than Pange. Vegetation is mostly restricted to stunted shrubs and bamboo; the ferns, orchids and lichens all more discernible now, due to the absence of bigger trees. The bamboo here looks a much paler shade of green, almost white. I realised later it is a different species — Pleiublastus simone, found exclusively in Talley; the local assistants had a light-hearted chuckle at my brazen ignorance. I silently resolved to brush up my field botany, though I haven’t really followed up similar resolutions in the past arising from similarly embarrassing incidents. I am much more at home with the frogs we encounter in the night and the butterflies and birds in the morning. The fauna communities are different from lower elevation Pange, and I was particularly thrilled to see many species of butterflies for the first time.

Himalayan Blue Peacock
Single Silverstripe — turns out this was the first record of this species in the state of Arunachal Pradesh!

We returned back to Pange after two nights in the Valley Camp. As far as the Clouded Leopard was concerned, the trek down was as luckless as the trek up. However, I was excited to come across a Jerdon’s Pit Viper, a typical high elevation species in this region; not encountered very often due to its ambush predatory behaviour. More importantly, it adds to the data I gather. The success of this recce trip hinges on these ‘data points’ and they would solely decide whether I would make consequent trips to this place for more ‘formal’ fieldwork.

Jerdon’s Pit Viper which forms a significant data point

Back in Pange, we met the Range Officer Mr. Reddy Bei, who came for his fortnightly visits to the camp. Over copious amounts of local whisky that evening, he regales us with tales about the sanctuary, about encounters with animals and the Apatani culture, and also his visions for developing eco-tourism and other long-term, sustainable conservation measures involving local communities. The conversations with this jolly man left me very hopeful for the future of these forests. He also invited us to attend Dree — the annual harvest festival of Ziro. The next morning, we walked down from Pange towards Mani Palyang, where we would be met by our driver. After covering half the distance, as the settlements and fields of the village come in view, I accepted there are no realistic expectations of seeing the Clouded Leopard now and walk down the rest of the path silent in this resignation.

Dree brings together the entire town of Ziro. Sacrifice rituals are performed to appease the Sun and Moon gods and avoid famine. The rains were good and the harvest bountiful, and the entire town was in festive spirits as they ate, drank and celebrated. I got my first taste of the famed rice beer apang, in the traditional tall bamboo mugs. The festival stalls have much more on offer than pork, beef and chicken — there are rat, dog and cat as well. Reddy also coaxed me into buying a thangka painting, depicting the life and teachings of The Buddha.

After a week of exploring this pristine tract of forests and immersing myself in the culture and cuisine of the Apatanis, the time came to bid adieu. My field assistant handed me a bottle of apang and some bhut jolokia pickle his wife had packed before we departed. He quickly pointed out the small quantity of pickle, as he and his family indulged in some light-hearted humour alluding to my low tolerance for chilli hotness. This small token from him left me speechless. Even though I had been there for just two weeks, the camaraderie we developed while living and working together made it hard to say goodbye to these wonderful people.

On the road out from Ziro towards Assam, wet cultivated paddy fields spread across on both sides of the road. These fields of paddy, cultivated in standing water where fish are also reared, is the pinnacle of innovative and sustainable management of resources in the land of Apatanis. A middle-aged woman and her children working in the field took a brief respite from their work to enthusiastically wave goodbyes to us, as the vehicle went past. As I saw this beautiful sight diminish in the rear-view mirror, I realise this trip has been more than just a recce; it had been a transformative spiritual journey in many ways. Talley and the Apatanis, with their infectious passion for life and nature, had left an indelible impression on my mind and heart. I was humbled by the generosity with their vast knowledge about the jungle, and their determination to save this land they call their own. I returned back with memory cards full of images, notebooks filled with data (hopefully useful!) and a heart filled with sincere admiration for the cheerful and passionate Apatani way of life.

It is entirely possible that Talley is among the last strongholds of the Clouded Leopard due to the very fact that Apatanis respect and revere nature and wildlife, and avoid reckless hunting. There is a tinge of sadness at not having seen the Clouded Leopard this time. I do not know yet if I would be making another trip here. But, for now, I would rest easy knowing it is in a safe haven in Talley, under the watchful vigilance of this most wonderful and perceptive people. I would come another day to meet them, wander in this forest, indulge in some apang and maybe see the Clouded Leopard.

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Anurag Mishra

Wildlife biologist at large. Football geek. I live for biryani and beer.