Agumbe Monsoons: how water transforms the landscape

Monsoon, the season of rain, takes on a whole new meaning when you find yourself in the highest rainfall zone of the Western Ghats – the second highest rainfall zone in India. Agumbe, a wonderfully forested region in western Karnataka, often referred to by herpetologists as the king cobra capital of the world, happens to be this region. It has been known to receive an average of 7640 millimeters of rainfall a year and a record of 4508 millimeters in a single month.

The beginnings of a waterfall. The intensity of this cascade will increase swiftly, sometimes in a matter of hours, as the torrential rain beats down on Agumbe.

With 2 pelican cases full of camera equipment, an underwater housing and dry bag, a few articles of clothing, numerous ziplock bags, torches, UV lights, water proof ponchos, jackets and tobacco (for the leeches!), we set out on our 7-day assignment. As one of the finalist teams in the Saevus Trailblazers Of The Year competition, our designated location was Agumbe. Our task was to tell a journalistic photo-story of conservational relevance. The output required by Saevus magazine was a photo essay of images and written content. Our personal goal, however, was to capture the coming of the monsoon through images and video and create a short, documentary-style film.

The uncertainty of what critters we might be lucky enough to come by and, more importantly whether the arrival of the unpredictable monsoon would coincide with our shoot played on our minds while we traveled west from Bangalore city? We had a story to tell - Agumbe was our set and home to our cast of characters.

The nature of Nature however, is such that one needs to be patient to understand and document her stories. The forest, the animals, the rain - they had no interest in our ambitious plans to create a photo essay and short film in a span of 8 days - 7 days to shoot and one day to edit. The days and nights that followed involved very little sleep and merged into one long journey of exploration, focused attention to detail, wonder and much learning. 

 The exuviae of Cicadas are commonly found on forest trees as well as around human habitation. While it may not be uncommon to see the winged adult emerging from this exoskeleton, for many species of Cicada, this is the only tangible sign of it’s secretive larval stage.

What is not evident in the final film, of course, is that it also involved multiple bites from numerous blood sucking invertebrates - staying wet and cold for hours on end - the constant smell of damp cloth - continuously cleaning the spray off our lenses - juggling, cameras, umbrellas, tripods, while balancing on wet slippery rocks – laying half submerged in streams waiting for the perfect moment – moments of excitement and enlightenment, moments of extreme frustration and despair.

Perched on a dead branch extending out into the water, a fishing spider waits for a suitable meal.

From a photographer's point of view, what made this most challenging and most interesting for us was that our subjects, for the most part, were what most people consider uncharismatic. Every photograph was therefore carefully composed with the intention to achieve a slightly different perspective. Extreme close-ups and wide angles helped portray the subject’s life, habitat and connection to water.

 
A praying mantis gets jostled about by the wind and the falling raindrops.

With the coming of the monsoons and the first few showers, one witnesses a miraculous transformation of the space - changes that occurs in more ways than can be perceived by a casual observer. At first the thirsty laterite soil seems to absorb every drop of water. But the rain is incessant, and soon every little ditch, depression and trench is converted into a water body. Dry streams, reduced to a series of interspersed pools and rocks in the summer months, begin to trickle and then flow. Rivulets course through plantations and forests, rapidly feeding these streams and rivers. As the rivers begin to flow, cascading over weathered rock, fallen trees and the dry banks, they set in motion countless processes of revival, birth, growth, life and death.

The versatile Hylarana occupies a variety of habitats and water bodies from shallow inundated fields, like this one here, to deeper ponds and the edges of flowing streams.

(cover photo: SAEVUS september/october 2013)

Water and moisture have profound effects on germination, breeding, nesting, spawning, metamorphosis, movement and feeding of organisms across taxa. From bacteria to birds, snails to reptiles, frogs to fish, arthropods to otters and everything in between, there is an evident burst of activity. The system can be best described as an action flick or a living laboratory.

Water makes up 97.5% of our planet, only 3.5% of which is fresh water.

Freshwater ecosystems occupy only 0.8% of the earth’s surface, but harbour nearly 6 % of all known species. These incredibly dynamic and rich systems function as the backbone for life as we know it.

In the first few weeks of the monsoon this stream will be gushing with water and all the aquatic vegetation visible here will be completely submerged.

Pundits the world over are already predicting our future water woes. It is common opinion that the wars of the not so distant future will be waged over water. This, however, continues to remain a very anthropocentric perspective. There are millions of other species that inhabit this planet alongside us. Agumbe shows us just a fraction of this diversity and their dependence on the fresh water. Whether we choose the stance of stewards of the planet, or simply fragments of the web of life, we are intrinsically linked to this resource, system and all the life it supports. We have a responsibility to conserve and utilize water wisely, and most importantly, realize that it is an invaluable and limited resource.

The tree-dwelling Rhacophorus malabaricus

Frogs are some of the most sensitive creatures, their dynamic position in the foodchain – as herbivores, insectivores, predators and prey, clubbed with the sensitive nature of their skin – positions this group of animals as critical indicator species – giving them the ‘canary in the coal mine’ status for wetland and forest ecosystems.
   

A Malabar Pit Viper (Trimeresurus malabaricus) sitting motionless in the rain.

A Hump-nosed Pit Viper (Hypnale hypnale).

VIEW OUR SHORT FILM ON THE AGUMBE MONSOONS:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/2rt8botnmrpta3d/Agumbe%20Monsoon.m4v