By Mudasir Manzoor
It is impossible to describe the atmosphere when a hangul stag calls loudly in the wilds of Dachigam and it reverberates through the valley. The hangul is a rare animal and it calls rarely too.
My patience, passion and love for the wild has led me into the depths of Kashmir’s Dachigam National Park in pursuit of this vanishing deer. My interest in the hangul was sparked by the work of Joanna Van Gruisen. A wildlife photographer, writer, and conservationist originally from the U.K., she has spent over three decades living in the sub-continent, including many months exploring the deep jungles and broad valleys of Dachigam. I move across the same trails that she once roamed freely - Gratnar, Trajtekar, Leych valley, Gugiyar, Gaglari, Sangerguloo valley, Nagbern valley, Dagwan valley, Hoksar, Hangalmarg, Burzwas valley, Marsar pastures, as well as the plains of lower Dachigam.
Once widely distributed across the mountains of Kashmir and into the Chamba district of neighbouring Himachal Pradesh, the hangul is today restricted to a small population in the Dachigam National Park, some 15 km. from Srinagar city. First identified by Alfred Wagner in 1844, the species is believed to have travelled all the way from Bukhara in Central Asia to Kashmir. It is considered the only sub-species of red deer in the sub-continent. It is similar in appearance to the European red deer, but its coat is dark grey and dark brown, not red. The hangul has a tiny white rump patch and a short dark tail.
At the end of spring, hangul deer shed their antlers and make their way above the forest line. They return to these lower pastures only in autumn, once their antlers have regrown. Now the rutting commences, and through September and October the handsome stags fight for dominance and to establish their harem of does. They show off their impressive headgear and their calls echo across the valley.
In the past, Kashmir attracted the attentions of explorers, hunters, sportsman, royals and locals; all lured by the rich “game” in the valley. The rapacious appetite of these hunters took a heavy toll on mountain ungulates, decimating populations of the hangul, markhor, and ibex, amongst others. The hangul was a prized catch, and a preparation of its meat was considered a delicacy by Kashmiri folk.
In the book The Valley of Kashmir, author Walter R. Lawrence writes that before 1890, hangul were so common that during winters, when snow shrouded the mountains and forests, hangul would approach nearby villages in search of food but were often killed when they did.
Even Dachigam, the last bastion of this noble species, was originally created by Maharaja Hari Singh as a game park for his guests. In 1910, he relocated ten villages from the valleys and mountains near Srinagar, thus creating Dachigam Rakh , quite literally “the reserve of ten villages”. In 1947, Dachigam Rakh was handed over to the Directorate of Game and Fisheries. At that time, it is believed that the population of Hangul was between 1000 to 2000 individuals in Dachigam, but the first count done by legendary naturalist E.P. Gee showed that just 400 individuals survived here.
In 1951, Dachigam was declared a Wildlife Sanctuary and in 1981, it was upgraded to a National Park. At this point the park was handed over to the newly created Wildlife Protection Department, but the damage had already been done. Fewer than 250 hangul were left in Dachigam.
The park’s more recent history is just as tumultuous. In the 90s, with the rise in armed conflict, wildlife protection became near impossible. Forests were cleared, animals poached, and forest guards killed. Simultaneously, nomadic shepherds entered the Protected Area in search of pasture for their wards, and occupied the most lush meadows. The healthy upper pastures, where hangul used to spend the summers, were taken over by domestic livestock that outcompeted the deer. Till date, the upper areas of Dachigam are overrun by thousands of sheep, goats, horses and cattle. Thankfully the well-protected Dagwan and Namblan valleys, provide some succour for the hangul.
The ravenous livestock are not the only problem for this endemic deer. The nomadic herders at Khatpathri are of the opinion that their sheep dogs drastically hinder the movement of wildlife too. But all is not lost. There have been encouraging sightings of hangul herds by trekkers in these areas. In May 2017, one group sighted six deers crossing the Burzwas pasture, adjoining the Dagwan valley. And in 2018 while coming from Dagwan valley, at Waskhar, I sighted and photographed a ten-pointer male hangul. It was a huge relief for me to see this majestic animal in upper Dachigam, where most consider it long gone.
Having glimpsed the deer in these higher reaches of Dachigam, I was spurred to explore other neighbouring valleys. In remote Namblan I found indirect evidence of their presence, and met a nomad who told me that in 2016 a female hangul and her fawn would come to lick the salt he provided to his flock. He also said that a brown bear would regularly be seen in the area, but it was shot dead ner Marsar lake and none have been spotted here since.
In 2018, through hardwork and a miracle, two female hanguls were captured and fitted with satellite collars by the Department of Wildlife Protection. The females traversed the old migratory summer grazing corridor in Gurez valley of northern Kashmir, the historical summer pastures of the hangul. One of the collared individuals moved outside Dachigam towards Surfrao, Akhal and Kangan blocks of Sindh Reserve Forest. The hangul crossed the mighty Sindh rivulet and a national highway to move further ahead, but its movements were restricted from Yechihama onwards possibly due to heavy human and livestock grazing disturbances. Its adventures proved to us that these ancient corridors can still be revived.
The last census in 2019 pinned the hangul population at about 150 individuals. I hope peace will return to our valley and its wildlife so that the hangul can return to its alpine pastures and roam freely once again.
Mudasir Manzoor is a young wildlife conservationist from Kashmir. He aims to place camera traps in upper Dachigam to document the biodiversity of these pastures and lay the foundation for future conservation efforts.
