It was a misty morning on the outskirts of Chitwan National Park in Nepal, and I awoke after a night of little sleep broken by the sounds of dogs barking and roosters crowing. A plate of toast and masala omelets was served for breakfast. The rough night was worth it this once, as we were headed into the park for a safari on foot through the forest. This was about a month into our trip to Nepal, where I was part of an interdisciplinary team investigating increased mortalities in the national park’s rhino population. Up until that day, I had spent most of my time working in the histopathology lab at the nearby Agriculture and Forestry University with long days staring down a microscope (or, technically at a computer screen, thanks to our Grundium Ocus digital slide scanner). Needless to say, I was keen to spend a day in the park tracking the object of our research: Nepal’s greater one-horned rhinos.
Our forest trek was led by Manesh and Maila, two expert guides. Maila, in front, identified fresh tracks to lead our journey. We saw all manner of prints—leopard, tiger, gaur, and deer—before finally finding some rhino tracks. The day proved to be hazy, and we were off to a slow start. We ventured slowly through the underbrush as a symphony of bird calls filled the lush green overhead. I saw dozens of species of birds, and for a while, the sights and sound kept me appeased, but as morning slipped away and my hunger increased, I grew slightly impatient to see some large terrestrial animals.
Before long, we saw some mammals. Langurs screamed at us from the trees. Spotted deer rustled the shrubbery, fleeing as soon as they heard our presence. My growing hunger made it seem as if we were surrounded by feasting animals. Even some mosquitoes and leeches enjoyed lunch long before I did; unfortunately, I was lunch.
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Author: Carmen Smith
Source: https://wildlife.cornell.edu/
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