AN ENCOUNTER WITH A PORCUPINE MT. ABU

Kali Small Face had an encounter with a porcupine

I had hit the sack at the stroke of midnight and had drifted off into a dreamless and sound sleep. At around 2.20 am my slumber was shattered by the wild anguish yelping of one of my dogs, Liz, who had also been awakened by the din sat up and added to the confusion by yelling at the scenario to try and curb what she assumed was an assault by the leopard. I knew it was not the leopard as the incessant cry of the dog indicated otherwise.

I scuttled out of bed grabbing my searchlight and my faithful “लाठी” (Bamboo Staff), and rushed outside to see what had happened. The visibility was low as there was heavy mist, and the mutt had clamoured to the back of the house, I did an about turn and rushed to the back door to find it was our ‘Kali small Face’, she was in shock and her torment was extreme. I could see she had been riddled with quite a few quills, a few more than an inch embedded into her chest and legs. She flew past me into the house and scurried under a bed. I tried coaxing her to come out when this did not work I got stern and tapped my staff on the floor, she whimpered and limped into our room and headed straight for Liz.

Liz stroked her gently all the while talking to her in a soothing voice; I shut the doors to our room and reached for our First-aid box, taking out a broad bandage to act as a muzzle. I knew I had to act fast and remove those quills before she tried gnawing and clawing at them to alleviate the extreme pain imparted by them.

I gagged her securely and proceeded to remove the quills. It took me a minute or so to remove the barbs, she was very fortunate she had none on her face or mouth.

Guess she has learnt a lesson, No more chasing after curious creatures that roam late at night.

Kali small Face on of our stray dogs

Kali's small face came squealing home with quills from a porcupine

Quills deeply embedded.

Retrieved quills from Kali

Mount Abu The Playground of the Gods

Mount Abu

Mount Abu, often described as the Playground of the Gods, rises like a green oasis from the rugged stretches of the ancient Aravalli Range. Within this elevated haven lies an expansive landscape of weathered granite boulders, softened by a lush covering of vegetation, forming forests that transition from dry deciduous groves to patches of evergreen woodland.

The beckoning hills seem to call out to travellers, inviting them to explore their mystic slopes and mysterious valleys. Those who wind their way up the mountain road often feel a sense of quiet triumph — as if they have stepped into another world, walking literally on cloud nine.

Following the season’s first torrential downpour on the 10th of July — a remarkable 15.8 cm of rain in a single spell — the weather gods appear content to recline upon the heavy clouds that now mantle this sacred abode. Below them, nature revels in a theatre of drifting mist and swirling fog, a hallmark of Mount Abu’s monsoon mood.

The landscape flickers between visibility and veil: forests appear, vanish, and reappear again in ghostly outlines. It is a magical time when the hills breathe cool air, and every leaf glistens with life.

Tourists understandably feel thrilled because such weather lingered for several days. They know that once the full force of the monsoon arrives, heavy rains may restrict movement and exploration. For now, however, they wander through this fresh, misty, emerald haven — a rare privilege before the monsoon settles in.

The lake's attractive appearance, however, conceals a more grim and serious past. Only three days ago, the lake received its first “bhog” of the season — an offering in the tragic form of a human life lost to suicide. Local lore whispers that whenever such a soul departs in this manner, the lake gazes skyward, gathering strength from the heavens before overflowing. The rising waters, people say, help release the troubled spirit, setting it free on its onward journey to whatever realm awaits beyond.

Such stories — part folklore, part reflection of human sorrow — are woven into the living fabric of Mount Abu. Here, nature’s splendour and humanity’s fragility exist side by side, reminding visitors that this mountain retreat is not only a place of beauty but also one of mystery, legend, and deep emotion.

Monsoons in the Abode Mt. Abu

The monsoons have finally declared their initial charisma in the Abode. Dawn was covered with a dense shroud of mist, and then the rain came pouring down.

 I took a drive to Delwara and returned via town to appraise the situation, it was BAD, the roads in most places we're waterlogged, thank to contractors who used the side of the roads to dump tractor loads of debris. The stench all around was sickening, the temporary covered pot holes now exposed reminded me of the craters I had viewed on the moon through a friends telescope.

Its time the people of this Grand semi-hill station aired their voices and grievances to see that this place is restored to its former glory of being "GREEN N CLEAN"

How long it will take? Well most would, shrug and say, It's only a pipe dream. Man wake up, you know how the wheels churn, real slow through the mud and grime.

The lights blinked off early in the morning and only returned in the evening, the area around Delwara is still without lights and it’s a bet they will only be restored sometime tomorrow, hope this end hold or we’ll be back to lighting candles and having our dinner by candle light. “Imagine candle light dinner”. Three Cheers for the Advent of the monsoons in the Abode.

Lime orchard Mount Abu

The Lime Orchard at the fag end of Tiger Path has stood the test of time and is still there surviving against the adverse conditions thrown at it by the weather Gods over half a centaury.

I first visited this place in the year1963, the undergrowth then was dense, today a large portion of the valley has been cleared by natural forces and of course the woodcutters.

The orchard with its few lime trees are still there I’m sure some of the boys have helped themselves to the wild limes earlier in the year. Walter and myself took a cool walk to this favourite haunt after ages. The mist was pretty dense, making it neigh impossible to spot any of the bird tweeting in the trees along the path.

Folks in town when they hear of us venturing into the woods alone are skeptical, and think of us as madmen craving for an early and gruesome death at the hands of the sloth bear that freely roam the jungles of Abu. Over the last few years there have been incidences of people being severely ripped up and mauled by these bears.

Look forward to Walters’s narration on Facebook later tonight. Enjoy some of the snaps I took while on the walk, I’m sure they will bring to mind some nostalgic and misty moments.

Pretty Misty

Dusty Martin Lime Orchard Valley

Bell on Tiger Path

Mist descending lime Orchard Valley

Plummies in the background 

Lime orchard

Walter any one for limes they are for FREE