The Siblings, and their many adventures

Kulbhushansingh Suryawanshi

Solitary, ghostly, shy, alone, hard-to-see, and even lonely, are some of the words that are often used to describe the snow leopard. But, the Siblings, as the two snow leopards of Kibber came to be known, were none of that.

Kibber is an idyllic village tucked on a rocky knoll at an elevation of 4,200m in the Spiti valley. To the north of it is the summit of Mt Kanamo, standing just 5m short of 6,000. To the south of it is the wide ‘U-shaped’ valley formed by the Spiti river. For the past 25 years, this village has been the epicentre of research on snow leopards and community-led efforts to conserve this species. Thanks to these efforts, Kibber is today one of the best places in the world to see snow leopards. This year, the stars of the show were the Siblings, or Chunnu and Munnu, as some of the local people and tourists had started calling them.

The first time I saw the siblings was in February last year. That winter was mild, and temperatures barely dipped below -15ºC. There was little snow on the ground. My good friend, Prasenjeet Yadav, was filming for the BBC and I was playing an advisory role, given my 15 years of experience working in the region. The Siblings were then only a year old. We would see them almost every day. They spent most of their days sleeping under an overhanging rock or on a ledge high above a cliff. Their mother, also sleeping nearby, was always vigilant.

One evening, at around 4 pm, the mother and the Siblings twitched their ears, and all the tourists and filmmakers clicked away, which was the most exciting thing that had happened all day. Then, they woke up and stretched like house cats, and excitement built up in their audience. A cub walked a few steps and hunched down to poop, and only cats can look cute while pooping. I made a mental note to go down to that spot later and get a sample for genetic analysis.

A half-frozen stream flowed past the three snow leopards. We watched them from a cliff high above. Across a bed in the river, on a small grassy meadow, a herd of ibex were grazing in the golden light of the evening sun. We could see the ibex and the snow leopards, but the ibex could not see the snow leopards.

The mother, however, seemed to know about the ibex, and she started walking deliberately and carefully towards them. She could not have seen them because of the bend in the cliff along the river. She either heard them or knew that they grazed there at that time. The Siblings followed her with equal care and attention. I was impressed with the discipline the cubs were exhibiting. As they got closer, the mother got into stalking mode, and the cubs followed.

This was the most important thing they would have to learn if they had to survive in the wild.

Tension built up, and we all watched it from across the bank from an overlooking cliff, as if watching a nail-biting cricket match from the high stands.

Now, the mother was within 30m of three big male ibex. With their scimitar-shaped horns, these goats are formidable prey even for a veteran snow leopard mother. The Siblings stayed back and watched their mother. I wondered how she communicated to them that they need to stay back now.

She got closer, 20m; the cubs were watching, and all of us were holding our breath. The attack could come any moment now. This was going to be more spectacular than the cheetah coursing down an impala in the Serengeti. Now, 5m, and the ibex have still not seen her, she is only one leap away from making a kill. She is being careful to avoid those big horns of the ibex which can cause a serious injury.

And just the moment when we expected her to commit to the leap, the Siblings got impatient and started chasing the rest of the ibex herd in the open meadow which was still 40m away from them. The element of surprise was lost. There was chaos, 25 ibex running around and two year-old snow leopards bounding ungainly after them. The mother sat glum.

It was outrageous that the cubs had spoilt her hard work because of their impatience. After the dust had settled, the Siblings approached their mother with tentative steps. I was expecting her to reprimand them, but she was their mother after all. She licked them clean and the three walked away into the dusk that was spreading over the mountains.

— The writer is director of the India Programme of the Snow Leopard Trust

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