Throughout our travels in India, talk of the monsoon has prevailed. This year, the summer in India was quite hot and dry, and the monsoon rains were two weeks late in reaching the parched North. In a country where a large amount of agricultural land is not irrigated, a late rain or below-average rain can spell disaster for the food supply, despite the incredibly productive soils of India.

The day after our return to Dehradun, the very first of the monsoon rainfalls occurred, stunning us with both its suddenness and force. Although I had heard stories about the intensity of rain during the monsoon, I had never witnessed it before. After a short, hard gust of hot wind, the drops started bouncing off of everything, booming on the tin roofs and puddles instantly began to form. Since then, these rain bursts have become more common, now happening in morning, afternoon, and during the nighttime. As the monsoon progresses, they will lengthen and become even more frequent until there are several days of constant rain. As suddenly as they appear, they will stop, leaving flowers and mud behind.

The change in the behaviour of the animals during monsoon is legendary, as shelter must be sought and flooding of habitats claims lives. Here at the Wildlife Institute, the wildlife reaction to the monsoon is dramatic as well.

Dotting the campus are large red-brown peaks of termite mounds, some reaching up to 1.5 m in height. Although I hadn’t seen any evidence of life in these mounds during the summer, the first monsoon rain brought on an impressive emigration of the reproductive caste, which are winged for dispersal. After a short flight, the reproductives land, bite their own wings off, and burrow into the nearest crevice. Most perish before they can establish a new colony, meeting a very different fate.

Walking to the mess hall past the street lamps, I could see clouds of awkwardly-flying termites, but sudden movement drew my eye to the ground. Frogs and toads had emerged from their underground lairs to dine, some so fat with termites that hopping was almost impossible. The next day, flocks of birds clustered around the base of the street lamps, where many of the reproductives had fallen, pecking delicately through the grass. Even the monkeys could be seen picking in the crevices of trees and in the underbrush for these tasty snacks.

Seeing such a mass emergence and the effects on the wildlife made me realize that perhaps humans are not the only ones who are happy to see the start of the monsoon.

(Photos will be uploaded at a later date, owing to technical difficulties)

We left Dehradun for our last adventure, heading for Delhi and then to the state of Kerala. The motivation for taking this long journey was to seek contrast. In a country as diverse as India, to spend all your time in one area won’t give you any hint of the differences that lie within.

From Delhi, we took a day trip to the city of Agra, home to the Taj Mahal and Agra Fort. The preservation efforts at the Taj Mahal were evident in the bag searches for sharp objects, the booties one wears while walking around, and the careful scrutiny by many guards. The magnificence of this stunning building was overwhelming from the stunning setting of the gleaming white dome to the intricate latticework carved in marble. Inlays of semi-precious stones depicted graceful flowers and leaves along the base and front, giving it a more delicate appearance up close.

Our arrival in Kochi took us to the ancient town of Fort Kochi, at the mouth of the famed backwaters of Kerala. This beautiful enclave of European influence is being actively restored and clearly caters to the tourists. It was a pleasure to ride the commuter ferry across the straits and see the port and fishing boats, many of which are still built in the traditional manner, with high bows and sterns.

The backwaters of Kerala are a fascinating natural phenomenon – thousands of kilometers of connected freshwater streams, lakes, and sloughs, fed by several rivers that drain the Western Ghats into the Indian Ocean. Many communities along the backwaters are only accessible by boat, and make their living growing rice in paddies on reclaimed land that is 2 m below sea level.

But there are sociological features that set Kerala State apart as well. Boasting the highest literacy rate (98%) in all of India, historical culture in Kerala was one of the few examples of a matrilineal society.  The evidence of Christian influence is very prominent, with many churches and biblical names in the population. There is also a more temperate pace to the traffic and a fastidious cleanliness to the streets. Cooking employs the use of the abundant coconut and banana trees, which grow wild and in cultivation. Even the rice is different!

After our short stay in Kochi, we traveled to the Periyar Tiger Reserve, investigating the spice plantations along the way.

This afternoon, ten of the faculty members from the Wildlife Institute and I gathered in the PortaCabin to discuss teaching and learning methods. The conversation was lively, the audience motivated. To start off with, I thought my first teaching lecture should be one that is immediately useful and easy to implement. We began with some of the basics of an interactive classroom – why we want active learning in our classrooms, what are some of the drawbacks, what are the advantages, how do we match our goals with our methods and student actions.

One of the things that struck me the most strongly was the similarities between questions the faculty asked and the questions I have had and heard at workshops at UBC. Despite the fact that faculty here are providing courses to professionals and graduates, many of the concerns and goals in the classroom are exactly the same. “An interactive classroom takes time. How am I supposed to get through all the material that I have to cover?” “What about domineering students who don’t let others speak?” “Should we control group dynamics? How do we go about doing that?”

Like any interactive classroom, we didn’t cover all the topics that I wanted to talk about today. But like a teacher who is used to an interactive classroom and the change in goals as an educator, I didn’t mind. I feel like I am learning as much about the needs, wants, and interests of the faculty members here, as they are learning about teaching methods used at North American universities.

Tomorrow, I look forward to having another lively discussion, including group examinations, team-based learning, and experiential learning. With this group of instructors, it will be another great experience!

On Friday afternoon, it was my great pleasure to give my first presentation to the WII group. Attending were about 20 people, including a few of the department heads and professors; all the rest were masters and Ph.D. students who are still at the Institute. May / June is normally holiday time and there are no classes running right now, so it was an honour to have so many people come.

To appeal to a more general audience, I began with my presentation about species at risk management in Canada, with special reference to policy process and some of the issues that have emerged in the past three years. Although this was a pared-down version of my presentation I give to the Indian Forestry Service – Mid-Career Training group, I put a new spin on things by adding information on some of the most recent articles in Nature Magazine about our Canadian government’s recent and drastic changes to science funding and environmental policy.

I think for many of the attendees, my comments about shrinking funding, censorship of federal scientists, and closing of scientific facilities hit very close to home. To the most senior biologists in the room, the headlines about the Canadian government’s “War on Science” was familiar – a sad state of affairs when you consider it.

They all saw the humour of my comment about Canada’s refusal to use the IUCN endangered species categories because they are too complex and our politicians aren’t that smart – they need three simple colour categories. I think my audience found some common ground with me there, too.

I look forward to my teaching lectures next week, followed by a trekking trip to Rajaji National Park and the Valley of Flowers.

Thus far, the oppressive heat that hangs over Dehradun has been accompanied by a brown haze of dust and pollution. With no rain to wash the air clean, there has not been much of a horizon. As I look to the north, I know that looming in the distance are the Western Himalayas (pronounced him-ah’-li-as), but they have remained mysterious until today.

The lightning storm we had on Monday night was brief but dramatic. Although the spattering of rain was only a few minutes, the temperature dropped about 12 degrees in the same period of time. The effect on people was remarkable. In the green stone walkways that join the buildings on campus, clusters of people gathered to watch the rain and enjoy the short-lived coolness.Every drop evaporated within minutes of the rain passing and the heat descended once more.

Today, I noticed a different impact of the rain’s brief visit. Grey mountain shadows have emerged so far above the haze that they might escape notice. Though they are over 60 kilometres away, I still have to tilt my head back to see them. But that still didn’t prepare me for this evening’s view.

We were walking back to the guest house with ice cream from the roadside kiosk, I noticed the stars in the sky…only they weren’t stars, they were the street and house lights on the not-so-distant hills above the Doon Valley. It was as though a constellation was rising out of the earth and had made it halfway into the sky.

In just over a week’s time, we will be travelling to the Himalayas to do a short trek to the Valley of Flowers, a UNESCO heritage site and location for hundreds of flowering plants, with quite a few species that are seen nowhere else in the world. I can hardly wait.

On our first explorations of the town, we visited the Forest Research Institute, which is a 106 year-old teaching and learning institute founded by the British, in Dehradun. In this enormous facility, there are over 100 acres of forest, wide boulevards, several teaching and research institutes, and a central building which houses 7 small natural history museums that highlight different aspects of forestry in India.

With over 120 species of commercially-harvested trees in India, the challenges to managing tree diseases and pests, silviculture and reforestation techniques are incredibly diverse. I wasn’t allowed to take any pictures in the museum, but was very impressed with the displays of 700 year old tree cross sections, tables made from a single piece of wood, and medicinal products derived from tree crops. Our tour guide explained to me that cutting trees, even on private land, is illegal in India and requires a permit. There are also programs for the reforestation of right-of-ways along canals, railways, and rivers. Farmers are provided with financial incentives for planting alongside their fields, and agroforestry is pursued with several crop types, including fast-rotation eucalyptus.

Surrounding the Wildlife Institute, there are farmlands and wetlands, where the regrowth of trees can be seen. Wherever there are open, moist areas, many species of butterflies can be seen, sipping water from the damp ground, or seeking nectar from the few flowers that persist in the scorching heat. 

Our trip here was long, with three plane rides and two stopovers, losing a full day in transit with the time changes alone. We have arrived here in the middle of a heat wave in the Indian summer. In other words, it is hot. Very, very hot, even by Indian standards.

As we drove from the airport to the Wildlife Institute, I was struck not just by the heat but by the signs of the impending monsoon. Although the forests are still green, there is a thick carpet of dried leaves, brown and crackling. But the signs of the coming rains are to be found in other features of the landscape, with the deep ditches, wide gratings across the roads, and rocky washes that will soon be filled with water. Steeply pitched tin roofs and raised walkways at the Wildlife Institute speak of the two and a half meters of rain this area will soon get. Most of the rainfall comes from July to September, but I am hoping for an early relief from the heat.

The institute itself is buzzing with activity; students clutching books, researchers standing in the causeways discussing plans, and an assortment of forestry officials and other government workers strolling the campus. There are only a few classes in session right now, with the course-based masters program students gone from campus to complete the final stages of their work for their degree.

On the grounds of the Institute, there are monkeys which can be seen perching on the roof lines, slinking along the eaves, or laying in the shade of a tree. This morning’s walk brought sightings of 6 butterfly and 3 dragonfly species, along with the bird calls of many, unidentifiable species. The interpretive walk on the Institute grounds was a lovely way to start the day.

On May 29th, I depart for India for six weeks to work at the Wildlife Institute of India. While I am there, I hope to meet other researchers and instructors and to seek out more opportunities for UBC students and faculty to do exchanges with WII. Nestled just south of the town of Dehradun, the Wildlife Institute has many researchers who work on wildlife, forestry, and sociological issues in conservation biology.