As rare as kryptonite
We divide teams into two groups to lay out camera traps in the area. There is never absolute certainty that a snow leopard will be captured during any of our missions. But we rely on probability, local knowledge, and a never-ending supply of optimism.
It takes us several hours of arduous trekking to reach each trap site; going uphill then downhill, and crossing rivers as we continually gasp for breath in the thin air. In every site we visit, the search for signs of life is one of the most exciting parts of the job. We’re constantly on the lookout for pugmarks in sandy sites, scrape marks on stones, or even a strong urine odor—all indications of snow leopard presence.
Theirs is a world of snow, ours is a world of hope
Unlike previous expeditions, there’s no time for boredom or impatience to creep in. It’s 6 a.m. with the sun still hiding behind the mountains and the day yet to begin when a camera trap alarm is triggered in the Rapka region—merely two days after setting them up. As we often receive false alarms, a couple of our local citizen scientists and park staff proceed to check on the trap status before the telemetry team sets out. Meanwhile, back at the camp we eagerly await word from the first team to make contact.
At 6:45 a.m. we get a signal on the walkie-talkie. Much to our surprise, it isn’t a false alarm. The happiness within the group is infectious and there are plenty of high fives and hugs going around. Within a short time, we reached the site to join the first team. A highly trained veterinarian safely tranquilizes the snow leopard.
We immediately and gently haul the snow leopard into a stretcher and to a safer site. This part of the collaring always leaves the biggest impact on me. Touching this iconic species with my gloved hands always feels unreal. I carefully place a GPS collar on its neck, while the veterinarian checks its vitals and measurements. He’s a healthy 7-year-old male snow leopard, weighing 81.5 pounds. He’s a marvelous big cat, and as I look closer, he seems almost magical to me.
After the collar is placed, the veterinarian administers an antidote and the animal slowly awakens. We allow it to make a swift exit and travel safely to its habitat. Having accomplished our goal, we wrapped up the expedition and returned to Kathmandu.
Later, the local monk of Nisal dubbed him Ghangri Gapi Hyul, meaning ‘a stunning village surrounded by mountains.’