The Forest After Sunset
During a herpetology trail through Tamhini and Kundalika Valley, frog calls led us to hidden predators, a snake crossed between our group in a forest stream, and barking deer alarm calls travelled across the valley.
We simply have to listen in a different way.
We left Pune together by bus, carrying cameras, torches, umbrellas, rain gear and everything we would need for a long night in the Western Ghats.
Before reaching Tamhini, we stopped at Hotel River Place in Male, near Mulshi Dam, for tea and snacks.
The break also gave us time to introduce ourselves, meet the participants and provide an overview of the night’s plan, expected trail conditions and responsible wildlife observation.
Makarand, Amol, Mayuresh and I spoke with the group about what we might encounter, how the two trails would unfold and how everyone should move through the forest without disturbing wildlife.
After the briefing, we continued together by bus and reached the Vinzai Mata temple area at around 8:30 in the evening.
The bus became our base for the first trail. We parked near the temple, left spare clothes and other belongings safely inside, and carried only what we needed—torches, umbrellas, rain gear and camera equipment.
The temple was the starting point for a herpetology trail that I was conducting with my brother Amol and our friends Makarand and Mayuresh. The group had joined us to experience the Western Ghats after sunset and learn more about its reptiles, amphibians and other nocturnal wildlife.
For several participants, this would be their first time inside a forest after sunset.
Most people join a herpetology trail hoping to see snakes. Some expect frogs, scorpions or insects. Others are simply curious about what a familiar forest becomes once daylight disappears.
Before speaking about sightings, however, we spoke about behaviour.
Walk slowly. Watch where you place your feet. Keep a respectful distance from wildlife. Do not surround an animal. Avoid touching anything unnecessarily. Never keep a strong torch fixed on an animal’s eyes. Do not lift rocks, tear bark or disturb fallen logs merely to find something underneath.
A night trail is not about disturbing the forest just to find wildlife.
It is about walking patiently and noticing what is already there.
Rain had accompanied us for much of the journey and continued around Vinzai Mata. At times it softened into a drizzle; at others it grew heavy enough for us to pause beneath umbrellas and rain covers while making sure our cameras remained protected.
By the time we prepared to begin, darkness had already settled over the landscape.
Even before we started walking, the frog calls had given the group its first experience of the night forest.
The First Voices of the Night
Calls had started rising from the vegetation around Vinzai Mata.
One came from somewhere close to us. Another answered from farther down the slope. Soon the sound seemed to surround the group from every direction.
They were Ghate’s bush frogs.
To someone hearing them for the first time, the repeated “tik-tik-tik” calls can merge into a continuous background chorus. Once we identified the rhythm and asked everyone to listen carefully, separate voices began to emerge.
One frog called.
Another responded.
Then several more joined from different corners of the forest.
Frog calls are not simply part of the atmosphere we enjoy. They carry information. Depending on the species and situation, calls may advertise territory, attract a mate, maintain distance from rivals or announce a frog’s presence within suitable breeding habitat.
The calls were meant for other frogs, but they also helped us understand what was happening around us.
Night had begun.
the frog calls had already made the forest feel alive.
Entering the Forest
Once everyone was ready, we began the trail from the Vinzai Mata temple area.
Walking through a forest at night changes the way you observe it.
During the day, your eyes can absorb an entire landscape. You can follow the direction of a trail, recognise distant trees and understand the shape of the slope ahead.
At night, your visible world becomes limited to the small circle illuminated by a torch.
A wet branch appears briefly.
A spider web catches the light and then disappears when the beam moves away.
Beyond the reach of the torch, we simply could not see what the forest held.
This limitation encourages a different kind of attention. Instead of looking towards the horizon, you begin studying the details immediately around you.
A frog may sit motionless on a leaf only a few centimetres above the ground. A snake may blend almost perfectly with a branch or a patch of dead leaves. A pair of reflected eyes may reveal an animal that would otherwise remain invisible.
During the trail, we encountered several nocturnal reptiles and amphibians. Among them was a Common Wolf Snake, an attractive, non-venomous snake that is frequently mistaken for more dangerous species because of its light crossbands.
The Forest Protected by Faith
Our route also took us near the local Devrai—the sacred grove associated with the temple and surrounding community.
We paused there to explain why such places matter.
Across Maharashtra and other parts of the Western Ghats, sacred groves have survived because local communities protected them through belief, tradition and restraint.
Certain forest patches were associated with a village deity, guardian spirit or sacred presence. Cutting trees, hunting animals or removing resources from these groves was restricted or completely avoided.
Long before biodiversity conservation became a formal subject, these traditions were quietly protecting fragments of native forest.
A Devrai may preserve old trees, native vegetation, shaded streams, moisture and undisturbed shelter that have disappeared from the surrounding landscape.
They may support plants, amphibians, reptiles, insects, fungi and birds that depend on stable forest conditions. They can also protect water sources and act as refuges within increasingly fragmented landscapes.
For our group, the Devrai added an important layer to the night.
We had come to look for frogs and snakes, but the animals could not be separated from the habitat that sustained them—or from the cultural traditions that had helped protect that habitat.
Waist-Deep in a Living Stream
One of the most memorable moments of the first trail came not beside the stream, but in the middle of it.
To continue our route, the group had to cross a rocky forest stream. In some places, the water reached almost to our waists.
At night, even an ordinary stream crossing requires concentration.
Rocks beneath the water may be slippery. The current can hide sudden changes in depth. Each person must move carefully while trying to maintain balance, hold a torch and avoid disturbing those walking nearby.
But the stream was not simply an obstacle between two parts of the trail.
It was a habitat.
Bullfrogs occupied the banks and quieter edges. Freshwater crabs moved between rocks or disappeared beneath them. Aquatic insects travelled with the current, while countless smaller organisms remained hidden within the water and submerged vegetation.
We were visitors passing through the middle of their world.
When much of the group was already waist-deep in the stream, a Checkered Keelback suddenly appeared in the water.
It began swimming directly between the participants.
Seeing a snake from a safe distance on land is one experience. Discovering one swimming between people while everyone is standing inside deep water feels completely different.
For those unfamiliar with snakes, the first reaction was understandably a mixture of surprise and fear.
My friend Makarand gently guided the snake away from the group and created enough space for it to continue swimming towards a clear route away from us.
Once the snake had moved on, Makarand explained that the Checkered Keelback is a non-venomous, water-associated snake commonly found around streams, ponds, wetlands and other freshwater habitats.
Like us, it had simply been trying to cross the stream.
Understanding changes the experience completely.
For many participants, the encounter became one of the most thrilling experiences of the night.
Not because anyone had been in real danger, but because the stream crossing had suddenly become something they would remember for years.
Wildlife encounters are rarely staged or predictable.
Sometimes an animal appears where you expect it.
Sometimes it swims between your friends while you are standing waist-deep in water.
Another Trail Near Kundalika
After completing the trail around Vinzai Mata, we returned to the bus and travelled together towards the Kundalika Valley area.
We parked near the second trail, left our remaining belongings safely inside the bus, and carried only the equipment we needed.
It was already late, but the night was not over.
We explored another shorter trail near the valley. The terrain and atmosphere felt different from the enclosed forest around the temple.
The road ran along one side of the landscape. Beyond it, the land dropped sharply into the valley before rising towards the forested mountain opposite us.
Together, the two slopes formed a broad V-shaped landscape.
In such valleys, sound does not always behave in the way we expect.
A call from the opposite mountain may appear close at first, then distant, and then seem to arrive from another direction as it travels between slopes.
During the short walk, we heard a frog making a very different sound from the steady chorus that had surrounded us earlier.
This was not an ordinary territorial or breeding call.
The sound carried panic.
It was a distress call.
We immediately suspected that a predator might be nearby.
Rather than searching randomly through the vegetation, we stopped and listened.
The direction of the call helped us narrow the area. We followed it carefully, examining the shallow water, vegetation and rocks around the source.
Then we found the explanation.
Another Checkered Keelback had captured an Indian Bullfrog.
The Call That Revealed a Predator
For the group, it was one of the most dramatic observations of the night.
A predator-prey encounter is rarely comfortable to watch. The struggle is real, and there is no separation between observer and event.
Yet predation is one of the fundamental processes that sustains natural ecosystems.
Frogs feed on insects and other small animals. Water-associated snakes such as Checkered Keelbacks feed on frogs, fish and other aquatic prey. Larger predators may, in turn, hunt the snakes.
Energy moves through the forest through countless such interactions.
What made this observation especially memorable was not only the feeding snake.
It was how we found it.
The Checkered Keelback had remained partly concealed in the shallow water. We had not noticed it because it crossed the trail or attracted our attention through obvious movement.
The Indian Bullfrog had revealed the encounter through its distress call.
The feeding snake explained it.
Earlier in the evening, the calls of Ghate’s bush frogs had announced the beginning of the night.
Now the call of one frog communicated something completely different.
One sound was part of regular nocturnal life.
The other came from an animal in immediate danger.
Both carried information.
We only needed to recognise that the language had changed.
A Pit Viper at Its Meal
Kundalika offered us another glimpse of nocturnal predation that night.
We found a Bamboo Pit Viper feeding on a mouse.
Bamboo Pit Vipers are ambush predators. Their colour and pattern allow them to remain remarkably well concealed among vegetation, branches and wet forest edges.
Rather than actively chasing prey over long distances, a pit viper may remain almost motionless and wait for a suitable animal to come within striking range.
The feeding process can take time. Once prey has been secured, the snake must gradually reposition and swallow it whole.
We observed the encounter from a respectful distance and allowed the snake to continue feeding without interference.
It reminded us that important wildlife activity may be happening beside a trail even when we cannot see it immediately.
Dinner Beside the Valley
By the time we completed the second trail, everyone was tired and hungry.
We stopped beside the road near Kundalika Valley for a late dinner.
The dark valley lay on one side of us. Beyond it, the opposite mountain rose steeply into the night.
After hours of walking, searching and concentrating on the ground around us, the pace of the night finally slowed.
The meal was simple: fresh Indrayani rice with pithla.
There was something deeply satisfying about eating it there, seated beside the road in darkness after a long trail.
The smell of freshly cooked rice mixed with the fragrance of nearby Indrayani paddy fields. Cool air moved through the valley, carrying the damp scent of vegetation and soil.
Our torches were no longer moving between branches. Conversations had become quieter.
We spoke about the animals we had encountered, the sacred grove, the stream crossing and the frog call that had led us to the feeding Checkered Keelback.
Then a sharp call came from across the valley.
A barking deer.
We could not see the deer, and we could not confirm what had disturbed it. It may have detected a predator or another possible threat moving through the forest on the opposite slope.
The call travelled between the mountains, changing with distance and echo. Only moments earlier, the valley had seemed quiet. Now we knew that something had changed somewhere beyond our sight.
The Road Home
We finally began our return journey and reached home at around four in the morning.
The participants had come hoping to see frogs and snakes.
They had seen both.
They had crossed a waist-deep stream with a Checkered Keelback swimming between them, stood near a sacred grove protected through generations of tradition, followed an Indian Bullfrog’s distress call to another Checkered Keelback feeding in shallow water, and watched a Bamboo Pit Viper consuming a mouse.
But the night had also been shaped by animals we heard before we saw them—or never saw at all.
Ghate’s bush frogs announced the arrival of darkness. An Indian Bullfrog’s distress call revealed a predator in shallow water. A barking deer warned of something moving somewhere across the valley.
Each sound meant something different, but all of them reminded us that the forest remained active far beyond the narrow circle illuminated by our torches.
I hoped the group carried home more than a list of sightings.
A night forest is not silent simply because we cannot see what is happening.
Sometimes the first clue is a movement. Sometimes it is a call. And sometimes listening carefully is enough to understand that another story is unfolding somewhere in the darkness.
Take This With You
On your next forest walk, pause before searching for wildlife.
Listen for the regular rhythm of the forest—and notice when that rhythm suddenly changes.
The first clue may arrive long before the animal does.
About Parag Kokane
Parag Kokane is an observer of nature whose work combines field observation, natural history, wildlife photography and writing. Through Wildscapes, he explores the forests, freshwater ecosystems and everyday wildlife of the Western Ghats, sharing stories that encourage readers to look more closely at the natural world around them.
Join the Conversation
Post a Comment