Tracking the elusive snow leopard
Daniel Allen
Pausing to suck in another lungful of thin, biting air, I take in the natural drama of Ladakh’s Ulley Valley. Located in the Himalayas in Jammu &Kashmir, Ladakh is as harsh as it is beautiful. A land of fast-flowing rivers, golden-leaved poplars, remote Buddhist monasteries and shimmering lakes, the region is essentially a cold, high desert. It is also home to a sizeable population of the world’s most elusive big cat — the snow leopard.
To the villagers of Ladakh, the snow leopard is known as the “grey ghost”. Adapted to their environment in a way that humans never will be, the dappled, grey-yellow fur of this superbly camouflaged cat is almost invisible against rocks and snow. An energy-sapped urbanite could be a few metres away from one and never know it. Luckily, I have the eagle eyes of my young Ladakhi guide, Tsewang, to depend upon. But he doesn’t fancy our chances. “December is not a good time to see them. In January and February, when heavy snows arrive, they come lower to hunt and mate.”
As the sun dips below the horizon, Tsewang and I decide to call it a day. Close by, a farmer corrals his herd of yak for the night; one has half its tail missing. Iam told a leopard did that. After dinner, Tsewang and I visit village headman Norbu. “Leopards take our animals from time to time,” he tells. “A few times I have had to shoot them, though I don’t like it.” Norbu takes down a dog-eared book to show me. Inside, photos of livestock carcasses depict leopard kills in graphic detail. Today these are less frequent.
The reason for this is largely down to the work of the Snow Leopard Conservancy India Trust (SLC-IT), an NGObased in Leh. The SLC-IT has helped many Ladakhi farmers make their corrals and pens leopard-proof. It has also taught villagers how to make stuffed animals sold to tourists as souvenirs.
But SLC-IT’s biggest success has been its homestay scheme. In return for training, the households involved in the scheme must agree to stop killing snow leopards. With snow leopard sightings on the increase, the scheme seems working.
“The income from tourists is important. A live snow leopard is now worth more to us than a dead one,”says Norbu.
After breakfast, as we prepare to hike over to the neighbouring village of Saspotsey, my guide stops and bends down on one knee. “Look,” he says, pointing out a line of four-toed pugmarks running across the dusty path. “Fresh leopard tracks from last night. The grey ghost came calling, but we were asleep.”
— The Independent
