news.mongabay.com/2020/09/the-vanishing-trails-of-sri-lankas-sloth-bears-commentary/ The vanishing trails of Sri Lanka’s sloth bears ( Commentary )
Bear! The very word may strike terror in the hearts of some, but unknown to many, this wonderful creature is on the brink of extinction in Sri Lanka, with its numbers very drastically reduced, its habitats decimated, and the hand of man firmly turned against him out of abject fear.
Many men of the jungle have told me they would rather face the charge of an elephant, as there is still some chance of escape. Whereas with the terrible “close quarters charge” of the sloth bear (Melursus ursinus), there is none. Add that to the distinct possibility of being blinded, disfigured, or losing a limb or two, the reasons for fear and animosity toward this creature are very clear. Yet the greatest fear that lurks among forest communities is of becoming “the living dead”: blinded, incapacitated, and totally dependent on others until death finally takes over, looked upon as a welcome relief from a lifetime of suffering.
To describe an animal with such a reputation as a “wonderful creature” would appear to be gross distortion of the truth. But it is the truth.
The sloth bear is a “gentle” beast who seeks to lead his life in his own quiet way, undisturbed, grubbing for worms, beetles and termites, breaking open the hard termite mounds with his steel-hard claws, or climb the Ceylon ironwood trees (Manilkara hexandra), known as palu, in search of its beloved berries.
Once the “inner bear” is satisfied, he would retire to his den or to some place of convenience, like a hollow log, or a crevice among boulders to contentedly suck his paws with a humming noise, perhaps to fall into deep snoring sleep. So deep is its sleep, especially with a belly full of palu fruit, that several villagers I know have strayed to within a few feet of the creature before the snoring alerted them of its presence.
Such close encounters, fortunately for both parties, resulted in the respective parties “heading for the hills at great speed” in the opposite directions.
It is this very same habit of deep sleep, or being totally engrossed in sucking up termites with high relish, that brings about tragedy, both for the sloth bear and for the unfortunate human who unwittingly stumbles upon the animal. Surprised, the sloth bear hurtles off in the direction it is facing or charges the “attacker” with unbridled ferocity.
Few creatures can display the courage of a mother sloth bear defending its young to the death. The late Percy De Alwis, a former assistant director of Sri Lanka’s Department of Wildlife Conservation, recorded how a honey gatherer was charged by a very determined and aggressive sloth bear. The man managed to thwart the sloth bear with a well-placed blow by a billhook to the head. The sloth bear staggered, fell, picked itself up, and ran into the jungle on uncertain feet, screaming, while the man, dropping his gourd full of honey and the billhook, ran in the opposite direction for dear life.
Going back to the same spot the next day to collect his belongings, the man was surprised to find them where they had fallen. However, a low noise from a partly rotten log nearby alerted him, and on investigating with great caution, expecting a charge at any moment, he was confronted with a pathetic sight: there, within the hollow log, lay a bear, its head caked with dried blood, while two tiny balls of black fur were trying to suckle from their dead mother, crying all the while for her lack of response. In its dying moments, the sloth bear had dragged itself back to the cubs it had defended with its life.
The cubs were more fortunate. They were handed over to De Alwis, who brought them up with love and care. Named Kalu and Zimbo, they became a source of much interest and amusement, not to mention a few scary moments, to visitors of Sri Lanka’s northern Wilpattu National Park.
Interestingly, each displayed its own individuality, a feature recorded by D.J.G. Hennessy in Green Aisles in respect of his own two pets, Yakka and Dikky, who similarly came to him as orphans. Such cubs appeared to have bonded very closely to their masters, displaying much affection, showing great concern at his absence, and tracking their way back through as much as 32 kilometers (20 miles) of jungle to be with their beloved master.
De Alwis records that Kalu and Zimbo, abandoned at Kali Villu in an attempt to revert them back to the wild, found their way back through the jungle to nearby Maradanmaduwa a couple of days later, to greet De Alwis with much affection, clasping him around the legs with much heaving and pulling, obviously overcome with joy at finding the master and very proud of their feat!
In our jungles there is not a creature, including man that the sloth bear would back down from in any confrontation. Many records exist of sloth bears standing up to Sri Lanka’s top predator, the leopard, and the latter being the one to retreat. Yet the bear rarely seeks conflict with fellow jungle dwellers, preferring peaceful coexistence.
Sri Lanka’s distinct subspecies of the sloth bear, M. u. inoratus, has no predator here, though in India, tigers are known to kill sloth bears, some even becoming habitual bear killers. Some tigers are said to have evolved a specific procedure for the kill, causing a disabling injury with a surprise attack, then retreating to a safe distance while the unfortunate bear exhausts itself struggling to escape. Once weakened, the tiger gives the coup de grâce with no danger to itself, before making its meal. These tigers appear to be well aware of the ferocious defense that sloth bears can put up and which can result in disabling injuries to themselves. Injuries of that nature spell doom to humans. Leopards, too, are said to kill sloth bears in India, but I have no knowledge of actual kills in Sri Lanka, though many confrontations are recorded.
Veddas, a minority indigenous group in Sri Lanka, had their own methods of avoiding sloth bears, whom they come across frequently in their forays to hunt and gather food. Approaching likely places where sloth bears may be found, they tap tree trunks and boulders with their axes, and utter cries to give warning of their arrival, so that the animal has adequate time to retreat without feeling threatened, which would result in a precipitate charge.
With the passing of these true children of the jungle and the advent of the urbanized colonist, alien to the ways of the jungle and its denizens, much conflict arose. That the Veddas looked upon sloth bears as a feared and hated enemy is well reflected in the very abusive name given to the creature. Many claim that mantras or sacred utterances send a sloth bear scampering away in fear, but it is more the vociferous, aggressive utterances, the bold front and the sound of the hated human voice that puts it to flight, given an avenue of escape. If not, there is no escape.
Moving with surprising but rolling ungainly speed, it will be upon the man, rising on hind legs to rake the great claws across the face, wiping away half the face and perhaps an eye in one stroke, baring the skull in the process, biting, scratching, clawing, accompanied by demonic roars all the while. Suddenly, the attack is over and the animal runs screaming away from the scene of mischief with loud wails and roars as if it is he who had been attacked, leaving behind a man so horribly disfigured, mutilated and broken, but more often than not, barely alive.
