Offbeat - My family and other animals

Today, January 7, is the birth anniversary of Gerald Durrell, beloved author to some, and to others a path-breaking conservationist who changed the flavour of the word 'zoo'. I have been inspired by Durrell for most of my life, although circumstances (and a general lack of guts and initiative) have prevented me from following in his footsteps. As a child, though, I kept whatever animals I could find around the house - and these included but were not limited to snails, scorpions, toads, centipedes, millipedes and those delightful transit passengers - caterpillars. Often, I journeyed far to collect specimens for my menagerie. They were well looked after and never suffered for want of nourishment, exercise or entertainment. I had then a band of schoolmates with similar afflictions and, frequently, we fell in and out over ideological and egotistical issues. Yet, we remained united in our reverence for Gerald Durrell.

January 7 also marks the day, six years ago, that my wife and I decided to be fellow-travellers on life's journey. I have her to thank for enduring my babble 24x7, and for her encouragement for keeping this blog alive.

This piece, titled 'My Family and Other Animals', was written for the October issue of M magazine. Wildlife Week is observed in October.

Gerald Durrell (1925-1995)

The Octobers of my childhood were awaited eagerly for Wildlife Week. I’d re-read Gerald Durrell until the red colobus monkey appeared in my dreams. I’d wear out tapes of David Attenborough’s Living Planet recorded from TV. I’d win painting and essay competitions urging the world to save wildlife. It was a time of celebration. 

It was also a time when neighbours kept away from my family.

At first it puzzled my parents why the sight of me made the usually affable Mr Murthy bound across the road like a wallaby. Or why Mrs Ambujam, the fat lady next door (who never sang, mercifully), forbade her son from speaking to me.

The answers weren’t blowing in the wind, but in time my parents learned that they crawled in a cubbyhole at the back of the house. Here I kept racks of bottles, buckets of dark fluids trembling with unseen life, and glass tanks that seemed to most people to contain nothing unless they looked very carefully (and then shrank back in horror).

This was my Laboratory of Life, a place of many happy discoveries.

One hundred years of wildlife filmmaking

Via AB Apana's very engaging blog, I came across WildFilmHistory, a riveting website that chronicles one hundred years of wildlife filmmaking. The website hosts profiles of nearly a hundred wildlife filmmakers from the familiar to the obscure - Jacques Cousteau, Gerald Durrell, David Attenborough, George Schaller, Doug Allen, Jen and Des Bartlett, Lyndon Bird, Desmond Morris and Steve Irwin among many others. There are pages dedicated to over 185 films, along with short clips from each. Preview Jen and Des Bartlett's The Flight of the Snow Geese (1972), Joan and Alan Root's Two in the Bush (1978) and Gerald Durrell's Catch me a Colobus: The Beef Mine (1966). Excellent way to pass the time, and to learn so much about the history that fascinated enthusiasts like us during our growing-up years (truth is, the growing up never ends). Also, I couldn't help ruminating on the fact that a great many of these wildlife films were shot at a time when photographic and recording technologies were in their infancy but when wildlife was more plentiful. Today, when access to equipment is ubiquitous, we have to travel a long way to locate the wildlife. How ironic!

With a wave of his hand, the Panamanian golden frog...

BBC reports: The Panamanian golden frog communicates with other frogs by semaphore in the form of gentle hand waves. It has evolved the mechanism to signal to rivals and mates above the noise of mountain streams. Shortly after filming for the BBC One series Life In Cold Blood, the frogs had to be rescued from the wild, due to the threat of chytrid fungus. Hilary Jeffkins, senior producer of Life In Cold Blood, said the semaphoring behaviour of the Panamanian golden frog was very unusual. "Normally, frogs would croak to get their message across but it's too noisy," she said. "An extra mechanism they've evolved is to wave to each other." The frogs (Atelopus zeteki) were filmed at a remote location in the Panamanian rainforest. The population had all but disappeared because of a fungus that grows on the amphibians' skin and suffocates them. The film crew was disinfected - to stop them from carrying the disease - and managed to capture unique footage of the frogs in the wild. Just after filming was completed in June 2006, the location was overtaken by the chytrid fungus. Scientists were forced to remove the remaining frogs from the wild and keep them in captivity. Hilary Jeffkins added: "The whole species is now extinct in Panama - this was one of the last remaining populations. It's its final wave in our programme." Chytrid fungus (Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis) is a major contributor to the decline of amphibian populations around the world, threatening many species with extinction. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/7219803.stm My friend Gopi Sundar sends an update: "In the Western Ghats, there is an endemic genera called Micrixalus that also has intricate leg-waving. It's quite amazing to watch." In a 2004 article, BBC had warned that "as many as 122 [amphibian] species may have become extinct since 1980 and a third of known amphibians face oblivion."