Nat-Jeo Pakistan

Although we do not have a channel by the name of "Nat-Geo Pakistan" yet, we certainly do have the content available here in Pakistan.

Today, I would like you all to accompany me on a very short roundup of some of the wildlife here. This is just an initial post on the subject aimed at introducing this aspect of Pakistan to everyone.

More detailed posts will follow with the passage of time.

Come Join us on this Tour...
























We will be visiting
Falcons in Baluchistan




























Peacocks residing in remote Oases.
















Turtles laying eggs on beaches

















More deadlier reptiles in Khirthar range


















Bats passing their days hanging upside down in ancient temples





















The Indian cobra or the Nag, in the valleys frequented by Jogis from all over Pakistan, who visit these places to catch the mysterious Nags.








































We will visit elusive endangered species having a very shy nature, such as this hardly visible Ibex from Lasbela.

























We need your company on this series of adventures...

one is lonely...
the synergy of one plus one goes beyond two...






















... three is even better company...















but...
... we always believe in....
"the more, the merrier"












So dive-in with us... we promise you, it will be worth the time.















credits:
concept for this post was developed in coordination with Khurram Abrar.

All photography was carried out in Pakistan.

Hunting for fun

Much thought has been given to what should be the first post on this blog. I've chosen the following post because in a way the trip discussed in it was an initiation for most of us in a lifestyle that was alien to us.

Hunting for fun

By Danish Rashdi

For ubanites hunting can be an excitingas well as a dangerous experience

It all started with a plan amongst four friends. But by the time it was over, nine of us had gone hunting around the chilly surroundings of the vast Indus River. Other than me, for the rest of the group it was a new experience.

Before we set out, most in the group were thrilled merely by the thought of seeing a wild boar. Others were brimming with excitement as to what hunting is all aboutas we prepared to board the Sukkur bound express, en route to the wilderness of Sindh’s kacha or riverine areas. But before that, ahead of us lay seven hours of cold night. Jackets, sweaters and warm caps were our actual tickets; anything less than that meant definite flu or cold. Still, to expect a gang of nine to stay quite for even a minute was ridiculous; so jokes, guffaws and laughter, taunts and teasing, defied the rhythmic noise of the swaying bogey. Many an eye naturally kept an intermittent focus on us, whether in amusement or irritation, we never came to know.

With only three berths at hand, we slept in turns during the journey — a bit of sleep was necessary to enter into the next day afresh. As it became colder after Kotri, we began to get milder in our conversations and remained ensconced in our positions for the greater part of the journey. And with cold creeping in from the numerous cracks of the decrepit coach, the only thing for which we’d leap out of a pleasant slumber was a hot cup of tea, even though we knew it is terrible at stations; we had no choice but to rely on the hot sweet water the hawkers sold through their verbal gimmickry!

Wrapped up in jackets within the fully closed compartments of the bogey, we had not experienced winter at its best until we reached Khairpur where dawn was still minutes away. Freezing temperatures awaited us at the bleak station. We marched out of the station, into the dense fog, only to witness a pleasant change of culture manifested in a most fervent gesture of a waiter who invited us for tea in his small, cozy, firewood heated hut.

Soon after we drove off to Pir Jo Goth; the heavy fog impeded our view on both sides of the road. Soon the mist faded and we found ourselves flanked by rich banana and date trees. A few kilometres later, the cultivation dwindled into sand, hedges and wild bushes, snaking through which our pathway took us into our goth.

Once there the hospitable villagers helped us to a sumptuous breakfast of pure honey, butter, fried eggs, omelet, potato chips and a specialty of the locals, busree or gur kee roti. Thick foliage covered the huts. Children scurried past us in excitement, stealing a look at us, the strangers, every now and then. I was not new to this place, but for the eight others with me, there was one concern which I am sure, despite my repeated attempts to allay, must have been a constant niggling for them: open-air toilets.

One could see slight discomfort drifting across otherwise pleasant dispositions. But this was an easy-go-lucky group and in full mood to party. All it took them was an extra few yards away from what they thought were eyes leering at them, into a desolate bush to respond to the call of nature. In time everyone had come to terms with the natural way of life here. Enthused and chirpy, the group showed no signs of lethargy and jumped into the boat to cross the small lake outside our abode, beyond which, lay acres of jungle, annually flooded by the river.

We returned with a meagre hunt which I am sure does not deserve a proud mention here! As twilight approached, we were gearing for the big hunt — we mounted the tractors for wild boars and deer. At the rear of the tractor, logs were inserted in a way that it formed ‘comfortable’ seating for shooters — not all nine, but at the most four. Even though ideally we all wanted to be together to share the fun, two groups had to be made.

“You should keep silent and never jump off the tractor if you see a wild boar — aim and fire at it from your seat” was the general instruction. But it was seldom obeyed. And then each of the five, lumbered on one tractor, was finding it difficult to mount the gun because they were so tightly packed. Secondly, take city people to such places and they would either get needlessly overcautious or so overexcited that, as in this case, they would climb down the tractor and start chasing not one, but three wild boars at a time! Heeding no warnings, one person jumped off the tractor and charged at the boars through the uneven land as if chasing an enemy and determined to drag the beast back by its tail! Another one jumped, and two with loaded guns and fingers on their triggers, were off the tractor and disappeared away from the glow of the search light!

The Host

Shots were fired at the three boars which dashed into the bushes never to appear again. Silence prevailed. Shots were fired again. Seconds later we found two guys still on the ground; one gun mounted at an object across the other side of the bushes, and finger on the trigger, when a last-minute sense prompts the gunner to ask: “Is that you Khurram?” “Yes! Yes!” yells back the second from the other side. Imagine if it had been a “No”!

Five hours of bumpy rides on the ploughed fields and rough pathway had left the guys squealing for space and stretch. The tiring journey could therefore not last longer and the team headed back to the village. All that this party brought back was a drilled owl shot at point-blank range under the impression that it was a partridge! The other party was proud to bring back two hares — both shot by a local. But this at least brought some glee to the faces. It certainly was a dream to hunt a deer or a wild boar, something big, something worthy of being called a hunt. This certainly would have brought each of us kudos not only from the villagers, but also from our city peers before whom we were planning to boast and brag of our great hunt!

A great hunt it definitely was, not in terms of what we hunted, but in the moments of thrill we gathered to cherish in times to come. While life is so naturally beautiful in such places, Sundays are sweet only at home. Hence on Saturday we boarded the night bus to carry us back to where we belong. As we drove through a quite night, I remembered what my father once said: “Friendships fostered in such adventures last forever.” Rightly so!

source:http://www.dawn.com/weekly///dmag/archive/041219/dmag6.htm
-The article was published in Dawn - December 19, 2004

The trip had originally taken place an year earlier, in December 2003.

The following Vagabonds went on this trip
i) Abdul Basit
ii) Hisham Hassany

iii) Ghazanfar Hussain
iv) Danish Rashdi
v) Adil Mulki
vi) Farhan Hassany
vii) Raheel Hussain
viii) Ibrahim Raza
ix) Khurram Abrar

There's probably an entire book that can be written about this single trip, however, I leave the options open to the audience to comment on the post and add to the material here.

PS: This blog is an effort to document some of the moments that we have all shared with each other. Please contact me on VagabondsVentures@gmail.com to submit any text / audio / videos / pictures that you would like to appear on the website. Do email me if you would like to get an email everytime a new entry is posted on the blog. Above all, visit regularly and do comment :) Thanks - Ciao
- Vagabond