Searching for the Asian Rhino in Chitwan National Park

In the white light of early morning, a light mist hovers over the river, softening the dark silhouette of the trees on the opposite bank.  

It's just after dawn in Nepal's Chitwan National Park and we have set out on elephant-back to see if we can spot some of the most endangered animals in the world.

The enormous beast beneath us gingerly steps through the clear, shallow current and sways up the opposite bank into the dark, hushed forest. Her footfalls crunch quietly on the narrow path; other than the occasional bird calls, there are no other sounds.

We are alone, elephant, mahout and 4 travellers draped into a square wooden hoodah balanced precariously on her back like an ill-fitting party hat.  Leaning against the hard wooden rails, we hold our breaths and scan the undergrowth. 

A slight movement, a rustle of leaves ... and moist dark eyes; a family of spotted deer evaluates us before bounding off. 

We settle again into a breathless silence and scan, hoping for the dark shape of a leopard lounging on a tree limb, or the amber eyes of a Bengal tiger watching from a tuft of grass. 

With luck, those sharp movements in the elephant grass might yield the endangered One-Horned Asian Rhinoceros.  

We know they are out there.  But they could be anywhere in the park's almost 1,000 sq. km.

That morning we content ourselves with deer – including a dead one hung high in a tree by a parsimonious but unseen leopard. 


Chitwan is Nepal's tropical crown jewel.  Once the hunting domain of the Royal Family, it remains a bulwark against the pressures of a growing, land-hungry population.   Inattention to poaching during the Maoist insurgency and destruction from serious floods a decade ago had undermined conservation efforts, but today the park is again secure and a steady stream of adventurous tourists are proving the wisdom of protecting vulnerable species.




The park provides travellers with a variety of ways to get close to the wildlife.  On our second day, we climb aboard a jeep for a safari deeper into the forest than the lumbering elephants could take us. 

An earnest park ranger leads us to gharial and elephant breeding programs and points out beautiful Kingfishers, gangly Mariboo storks and frightening crocodiles sunning themselves on a bank mere meters from a work team of villagers clearing the river of choking Water Hyacinthes.

  

But still, the big 'catches' - rhinos and tigers - elude us.




 








We content ourselves that afternoon by watching near-naked thrill seekers take baths with the elephants - and avoid the temptation to join them.

It is not until our last morning in the park that we hit the jackpot on a 'walking safari'.    









The excursion starts with a moody drift along the mist-shrouded river in a wobbly dugout canoe.  A local villager poles us downstream, tilting the gunnels towards the croc-infested water with every thrust.  


The silent riverbanks yield no signs of the big animals we are seeking, so we clamber ashore and head off into the forest on foot.



Babu, the park ranger seems edgy.  He urges us to stay together and points out huge footprints and steaming piles of dung.  Rhinos had followed this path within the past hour.  Our guides are unarmed, and my mind jumps back to warnings I had read about the bad-tempered beasts we are hoping to encounter.  As we walk, I scan the forest for climbable trees.





Suddenly, Babu's urgent hiss breaks the silence.  "Here, this way".  He plunges off the main trail and scrambles down a bank, and then stops - one hand up for silence. 

There, across the still, dark waters of a small pond are two One-Horned Asian Rhinos, up to their knees in water, contented munching on weeds. 







We have a few breathless minutes to snap photos before the short-tempered beasts lumber out of the water and disappear into the undergrowth.

The walk back to the river is a blur.  We stay close to Babu, glancing nervously over our shoulders, scanning the brush for movement.  This is no 'stroll in the woods'.  We understand the risks of being on the turf of these beasts and of being the weaker species.

Most tourists come to Nepal to challenge themselves on the high mountain treks - Everest and Anapurna.  But our trip had revealed a range of other, less tramelled destinations.  Chitwan had been an unexpected highlight.






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