Beyond The Sighting: The Landscapes That Sustain India's Mammals

A pugmark pressed into the forest floor, a broken branch, hair caught against tree bark or the distant call of an animal. To an untrained eye, these might seem like incidental details in a forest. To Dr A.J.T. Johnsingh, they were clues to a much larger story. As his son, Mike A. Johnsingh, recalls, his father was a teacher whose classroom was nature itself. "He used no board, no chalk, no paper to explain." The forest provided him with everything he needed to teach.

Growing up in a wildlife-centric family meant that Mike and his brother experienced a rather different childhood from their classmates. While others went to fairs and hill stations, the Johnsingh family travelled to Corbett National Park and other wilderness areas. Dinner-table conversations revolved around elephants in musth, tigresses with cubs and packs of wild dogs hunting sambar.

It was this instinct to observe, document and share that shaped Johnsingh's career as one of India's foremost field biologists. His work spanned decades of research across the country's forests and grasslands, with a particular interest in large mammals, including tigers, elephants, dholes and the Nilgiri tahr. He passed away in Bengaluru on June 7, 2024, without seeing the completion of "Mammals of India," the comprehensive reference work he had been preparing with wildlife scientist P.O. Nameer.

Now published, the book brings together information on more than 450 currently recognised Indian mammal species, accompanied by over 400 distribution maps and more than 50 pages of illustrations. But its significance lies in more than the number of species it documents. It is also a record of a lifetime spent understanding the country's wildlife and the landscapes in which it survives.

A Lifetime Of Looking

For Nameer, the book represents the culmination of decades of scientific engagement with India's mammals. "I would describe 'Mammals of India' as the culmination of a lifetime of work," he said, referring to nearly five decades of research and field experience by Johnsingh and three and a half decades of his own. The writing, including repeated revisions and refinements, took approximately eight years.

The process involved much more than compiling existing research. Nameer studied specimens at the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago and the Natural History Museum in London, besides visiting Indian institutions such as the Bombay Natural History Society. These studies were particularly important for examining morphological characteristics and evaluating existing scientific information. They also helped guide the book's illustrations, especially those of smaller mammals, for which reliable photographic references were often scarce.

One of the book's distinguishing features is its effort to make this extensive body of scientific knowledge accessible to a wider readership. Alongside taxonomy, distribution, ecology, biometric information, and conservation status, the species accounts include natural history observations and field experiences. Nameer believes that the book can be read almost like a novel, without compromising its scientific depth.

That accessibility is important when considering the sheer range of India's mammalian diversity. Bats, rodents and insectivores, for instance, account for approximately 60 per cent of the country's mammal diversity, yet remain among its least studied groups. Nameer points out that information on their ecology, behaviour and breeding biology is often limited. Over the past decade, however, a growing number of young researchers have begun studying these overlooked mammals, gradually filling some of the knowledge gaps.

The illustrations are another important part of this effort. Unlike photographs, which can be affected by lighting, background clutter and an animal's posture, carefully executed illustrations can highlight the physical characteristics that help identify a species. Working with illustrator Chirag Thumbar, Nameer drew upon scientific literature, museum photographs and specimen studies to ensure accuracy. The distribution maps, prepared by Raghunath Rangaswamy, also include historical information wherever available, helping readers understand how the ranges of different mammals may have changed over time.

The Landscapes Behind The Sightings

For travellers, wildlife encounters often revolve around a familiar set of animals. A safari through a tiger reserve might be planned around the possibility of seeing a tiger, while a visit to the high-altitude grasslands of the Western Ghats might include the hope of spotting a Nilgiri tahr. Yet the ecological story of these animals extends well beyond the moments when they come into view.

Johnsingh's work with the Nilgiri tahr offers an example of this wider way of looking at wildlife. He assisted conservationist E.R.C. Davidar in compiling information on the species in 1976, surveying the Srivilliputhur-Rajapalayam and Kalakad hills. He subsequently conducted an extensive study of the Anamalai conservation unit with Charudutt Mishra in the mid-1990s.

During a visit to the Thirukurungudi range in 2012, Johnsingh came across old logbooks of the Dhonavur Fellowship, a children's holiday home established by British missionary Amy Carmichael. Maintained since 1918, the records contained references to Nilgiri tahr sightings between 1939 and 1950, suggesting that the species had once inhabited these hills. Later entries indicated a sharp decline, with no further records after 1976.

These historical observations, combined with his own fieldwork, led Johnsingh to recognise the potential of the Thirukurungudi landscape as a habitat for the species. He proposed translocating Nilgiri tahrs from the Anamalai region to help restore the population. His proposal was approved by the Standing Committee of the National Board for Wildlife in October 2012 and recommended to the Tamil Nadu Forest Department.

The episode reveals something about Johnsingh's approach to conservation. He was not merely interested in recording where an animal could be found. He wanted to understand where it had once lived, why its presence had declined and whether the landscape could support its return. His field observations were connected to historical records, habitat assessment and the possibilities of long-term restoration.

For someone visiting a wildlife destination, this offers a different perspective. A Nilgiri tahr on a mountain slope is an encounter worth remembering, but the larger story lies in the grasslands and mountain habitats that allow the species to survive. Understanding the animal also means understanding the surrounding geography.

Beyond The Park Boundary

This broader understanding of habitat is central to the conservation argument made by Dr Bivash Pandav, a scientist at the Wildlife Institute of India. He believes that a comprehensive reference such as "Mammals of India" can help conservationists, researchers, and forest managers make better-informed decisions, particularly for species that receive less public attention.

He also highlights the need to move away from a protected-area-centric approach to conservation. Large mammals can range across extensive landscapes, sometimes moving between forests, corridors and areas inhabited or used by people. When roads, railways and other infrastructure fragment these landscapes, animal populations can become isolated. As Pandav explains, smaller habitat fragments can also bring large mammals into more frequent contact with people, increasing the potential for human-wildlife conflict.

"Maintaining the integrity of habitat is the key issue for mammalian conservation in today's India," he said. Infrastructure development, growing dependence on natural resources and the spread of invasive weeds are among the pressures affecting wildlife habitats. Conservation planning also needs to take into account the needs of local communities and their dependence on forest resources.

This has implications for how wildlife destinations are approached and experienced. A national park may offer visitors a protected space in which to observe animals, but the ecological landscape does not necessarily end at its boundary. The same region may contain wildlife corridors, agricultural land, settlements and water systems that are vital to both animals and people.

For tourism to be responsible, recognising these connections matters. The success of a wildlife trip need not be measured solely by the number of animals spotted. It can also come from understanding the habitat, appreciating the role of local communities and recognising why certain areas need protection from excessive disturbance. Pandav points out that securing large landscapes does more than safeguard mammals; it also supports water resources, agriculture and the ecological security of people.

Johnsingh's own approach to wildlife was rooted in this kind of close observation and engagement. Mike recalls that his father's home was always open to students, many of whom found not just guidance but a place to stay and eat. "He was at his best 'transmitting' knowledge," he writes, describing a scientist who took as much interest in nurturing future naturalists as he did in documenting wildlife.

For Nameer, the book's completion brings both sadness and pride, as a project that began with one of India's most respected field biologists finally reaches the readers for whom it was intended.

In a country where wildlife travel is often shaped by the promise of a particular sighting, "Mammals of India" offers a reason to look more closely. It reminds us that the animal glimpsed on a safari, the tracks left behind on a forest trail, and the habitat stretching beyond a park's boundary are all parts of the same story. Johnsingh spent a lifetime learning to read that story. Through this book, he leaves behind a way for others to begin.

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