THE HINDU (Chennai, India) 25 November 07 Bonding with beasts - Spending some time at the Madras Crocodile Bank can change one’s inherited, stereotyped perceptions of crocs. (Rimli Borooah)
It’s a beautiful moonlit night. The stars are gleaming, the sea is roaring in my ears, the waves come in a rush and almost knock me over a couple of times as I amble along the beach. The sea breeze is strong and true and I stop many times to look up for shooting stars. This is no mere midnight stroll by the sea, however: there are 20 others with me and we are on a mission — we are “turtle walkers”, hoping for a sight of Olive Ridley turtles nesting on the shore. And now we’re almost at the end of the two-km walk with no sight or sound of nesting Olive Ridleys. There are murmurs of disappointment. And then suddenly there’s one just ahead — a dark shape under the prow of a fishing boat, just visible above the snug burrow she’s dug. We gather around, sneaking peeks at the ping pong-shaped eggs dropping one by one into the nest. It feels like an intrusion and a few of us are worried we’ll disturb the process, but the turtle expert with us assures us she’s oblivious of her surroundings, that turtles go into a kind of trance when they are laying. She’s done, the flippers are at work filling in the hole, and then the final touch — a flippity-flop of flippers over the spot, the “turtle dance” of mama turtle levelling the sand to hide traces of the nest from predators. Then, quick as a flash, she turns and scampers across the sand towards the water, and soon bobs out of sight. She won’t come back again — her babies, the ones that hatch, will have to fend for themselves, find their own way to the safety (such as it is) of the sea.
I seem to have developed a permanent case of goose bumps and it’s not because of the nippy breeze. A sight like that is moving, uplifting — we all feel we’ve witnessed something magical, miraculous. And there are plenty of other goose bump-inducing experiences in store at the Madras Crocodile Bank (MCB), which organises these turtle walks along the beach at nesting time, usually mid-December to end-February, every year.
For one, there are the crocodiles themselves — zillions of them, lying around in different pits, looking deceptively placid. I’m told the Bank actually has around 2,500 crocs, no mean figure, comprising 14 species including the critically endangered gharial. There are saltwater crocs, muggers, caiman, species from Egypt, the United States and other parts of the globe. The crocs come to life at feeding time. And how! At those times, it’s a frenzy as they stream pell-mell towards the wall over which the food is being thrown. If you miss the normal feed times you can pay for the pleasure of watching them snack on chunks of meat or huge helpings of fish.
In a large pit that he has all to himself lurks Jaws III — the 600-kg, 17-feet-long saltwater crocodile that’s supposed to be the largest croc in captivity in Asia. A baby alligator is on display in a glass cage in the “young reptiles” enclosure. For a few rupees you can cradle the scaly baby in your arms and get the image recorded for posterity.
Other thrills include the spectacle of venom being extracted from Russell’s and Saw-scaled vipers, cobra, krait and other such friendly creatures. The extraction is done by Irula tribesmen, traditionally snake-catchers, whose expertise in this field thus goes back a long way. Glass cages hold several other ophidian specimens. The “young reptiles” section also has a baby python that will obligingly curl around your arm (or wherever you’re happy to have it curl around) for another Kodak moment.
Tamer attractions on offer at the MCB include 12 varieties of tortoises and turtles. Young lads from a village nearby stage an entertaining puppet show on reptiles in a thatched hut. There’s a well-stocked library full of books and journals on herpetology. You can pick up cute stuffed crocodiles or turtles, nicely designed T-shirts, or herbal teas in the two gift shops that sell a wide range of attractive souvenirs. And sip on deliciously refreshing coconut water, slurping up the milky flesh that remains, or bite into tangy mango slices with delicious masala sprinkled on, just outside the gate. Then there’s the campus itself — a haven of greenery, full of birds and butterflies, apart from the reptiles.
Wonderfully located by the beach on the East Coast Road (ECR), the MCB was set up by the “snakeman”, Rom Whitaker, in 1976 as a croc farm or breeding centre and proved a resounding success. Sadly, in the 1980s, the government banned the release of crocs in the wild, except the gharial, seriously hampering the Bank’s croc breeding efforts. While it still continues to breed the gharial with great success, the MCB has now shifted its breeding focus to turtles. The turtle programme is now going great guns — river turtles have been bred and released. The MCB is also doing its bit to increase environmental awareness through talks, guided tours for large groups of school children and screening of wildlife films. Not the least of its achievements is the green campus, a marvel of lushness in an infertile, sandy area. It’s a man-made woodland, started off with saplings planted in pots which were then buried in the sand. The saplings became shrubs and trees that begat many more as nature took over and soon there was foliage all around. The verdure attracted birds, of course, and now there are hundreds of them, including great colonies of egrets that make their presence felt with their raucous calls and droppings which coat the undergrowth and provide makeup for the crocs underneath. Other birdlife includes pond and night herons, golden orioles and many other small colourful birds.
The MCB is easily reachable along the ECR from Chennai, about 40 km away, as from Mamallapuram (14 km), and makes a nice drive out of town as well as a super day trip. I’m lucky enough to be able to stay there as a friend lives and works at the Bank. Although, not being a major croc lover, it takes me a while to appreciate the privilege. The first night at her cute little cottage is a trifle nerve-racking — those huge reptiles, just a few feet away, seem a bit too close for comfort. The Bank’s feathered denizens don’t seem to distinguish between night and day, and I feel oddly comforted by their live “techno music” performance. (That’s what a friend I was chatting with on my cell phone thought the din in the background was.) The second day my friend walks into the cottage, I turn to greet her and nearly jump out of my skin — she’s holding a baby snake that she absentmindedly picked up on the way back. I feel like I’m in the middle of a Gerald Durrell story.
The next few days, when I’m not walking or sitting on the beach with my coffee and book, I perch near a pit, joining the crocs in their basking in companionable crocodilian silence. I gradually stop thinking of them as ugly brutes but still refuse kind offers to join in activities such as pit cleaning and croc transfer (from one pit to another), being content to watch and photograph from the sidelines. Hannah, a young British “gap-year” girl spending time at the Croc Bank, gamely jumps in and helps, grabbing whichever part of a reptilian body she can or sometimes even “riding” a croc. She also helps out at the “young reptiles” pen, showing visitors how to handle the baby croc and python, and is as much of an attraction there with her blonde hair and blue eyes as the small beasts. With her encouragement I finally venture to touch a baby croc. I also develop a crush on the gharials — grace is not a word I ever thought I’d use in connection with crocs, but with their slender, beautiful bodies and their long, delicate-looking snouts, gharials are graceful.
Space is getting to be a problem at the MCB as the crocs grow bigger. Plans are afoot to move some of the creatures elsewhere, and also make the place slicker. For me, a large part of the Croc Bank’s appeal lies in its old-fashionedness — the somewhat primitive nature of the displays, the pleasure of walking about on mud tracks under shady trees, the lack of swanky air-conditioned eating joints belting out loud music. I’m sure the renovations will not toy around with the “natural” charm of the place — but just to be on the safe side, I suggest a visit there before, God forbid, fast-food joints set up shop, selling croco-roni pizzas and croco-choco cones. This is one place that just may help you see the beauty in the beast, or simply have a pleasantly wholesome outing with the kids.
Bonding with beasts