Though mostly dry, there is enough
rain to maintain verdure and feed wells, rocky hollows and puddles frequented
by birds to bathe and drink in the evenings in particular. The water is somewhat mineralised (“kivul”)
leaving ones hair somewhat stiff and tangled.
The botany is dominated by
indigenous plants (unlike the wet zone) including giant Euphorbia cacti, Toddy
(Thal) palms (Borassus flabellifer)
and dozens of species of tree such as Ebony, “Cone” (? with fruits similar to
gal siyambala), Palu, Wood apple, “Timbiri” and Margosa (Neem) trees among
others with the understory often dominated by curry leaf plants. Indigenous Iluk "pitiyas" or plains still carry on, though these may be drowned by invasive mana in future.
The dust is hollowed by the pits
of ant-lions. The leaf litter crawls
with orange insects like weevils (pictured). There
are long trains of black termites, colonies of larger biting ants that can weal the skin and leaf stitching red
ants that fall from trees. The dry zone
cicada is especially active and infernal as the temperature rises in the
afternoon. Of butterflies there are
quite a few including the slow flapping common rose (Papilio polytes).
The signature bird by day is the
Indian Shama that sings beautifully at most times, loudest by dawn and dusk. Several Shamas seem to compete in song around
circles of 100-200 feet or so unless the same individual keeps moving
around. I asked a local resident who
happened to be Danish whether the Magpie robin or the Shama was the better
singer. He replied that the Shama was
the “Chopin” among bird singers, though you’d have room to disagree as he also enjoyed
the song of the Indian nightjar (that kept him company by night). Post sunset it’s the turn of Jerdon’s
nightjar, repetitive but quite pleasant.
These birds seem to reply to calls from rivals within hearing
range. There are many other birds such
as peacocks, jungle-fowl, black-capped bulbuls, brown-capped babblers and
pompadour pigeons leaving aside commoner species (the Indian ring dove, all Sri
Lanka barbets except the Yellow-fronted) and those unidentified. The birds may be zoned as agricultural (ring
dove, yellow billed babblers) living outside of the forest and forest birds
themselves like the Shama. Others such
as Brahminy Kites, seem to occupy both habitats, especially associated with
water.
The signature mammals include
elephant (supressed by miles of electrocuted fencing), axis and mouse deer, jackals,
macaques, porcupines, hare, giant squirrel and the loris. Amongst those most easily encountered in the
dark were hare, loris and mouse deer as well as either a toddy cat or dry zone
golden palm civet up a tree. The mostly
invisible elephants seem to voice their despair by night, screaming like the
chained giants they are devoid of the freedom to roam at their pleasure. Their routes are blocked and at the time of
the writing the government fails to provide them with elephant corridors to
link up forest reserves.
Reptiles are more obvious and
active in the dry zone than in the wet.
Skinks are very common in the leaf-litter as they rustle the ground in
the search for prey, constantly chasing off fellow rivals. Even the tallest trees can be climbed by the
large land monitors and when descending they come down vertical trunks with the
head down (upside down) like squirrels, suggesting that their rear limbs have
phenomenal holding power for such a large and seemingly unwieldy lizard. It’s quite confiding as long as one keeps a
distance and can allow the cameraman almost near its face (at least the one I
was looking at did). I saw a painted
lips agama, Calotes ceylonensis
busily dashing down a tree with the head and chest area a stark black and
white. Then it noticed me and stood
still, starring back, slowly turning a bright orange to replace the former
white. It carried on observing me for
quite a while and it was I who had to give up.
There are miles of low trees in
areas subjected to former chena cultivation but towards the rocks and hills
unsuitable for cultivation, massive older trees carry on including forests of
ironwood that may have been planted two thousand years ago. In the crevices of these rocks, large enough
for animals hides the mouse deer that may remain all day, observing people as
they pass by. You can detect them at
dusk by torchlight. The dry zone loris
looks like it’s peddling a bicycle on all fours as it creeps around branches,
both in the treetops and at knee level in bushes. Its eyes dance like a pair of candle flames
by torchlight from a tree or bush, but the mysterious animal is rather elusive
and can disappear while you try and get camera ready.
The cone trees (whatever that
species may be) drops hundreds of small brown fruits with seeds the size of a
peanut. Apparently the fruits were
consumed by children but no more.
Similarly, the toddy palm leaves used to make the best roofing, especially
if applied in several layers, but once again not used much any more. I really looked forwards to constant showers
to keep me sane, using a local Margosa (Kohomba) soap. The evenings were the best times to chat with
others on the rocks or in their little cottages, sipping tea to discuss
politics, the weather and wildlife.
Outside forest reserves the land
is cut up and bulldozed apace and the illusion of a sea of forest along with
plains of soft native Iluk grass (pictured) quickly gives way to “progress”.
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