Eaglenest: Third Time Not Lucky
- shivaram1970
- Jul 21, 2025
- 4 min read
The rain-soaked, leech-ridden pursuit of cats more elusive than ghosts.
They say “third time lucky,” but Eaglenest clearly didn’t get the memo.
This was my third attempt to see and photograph the elusive cats of this remote Arunachal wilderness. From the outset, I knew it was going to be an all-or-none trip — the kind where you either get your dream shot or return with empty memory cards and muddy boots. Unfortunately, this one turned out to be the latter.
But that’s the thing about small cat photography — especially when it comes to the small and shadowy ones. The odds are always stacked against you. And still, you keep going.
Eaglenest in the rains is one of those places where everything is unpredictable — the weather, the roads, and most of all, the wildlife. There’s no method to this madness. It’s more like groping in the dark (quite literally), hoping to dash into one of the three small cat species that dwell in these jungles. I had a fleeting glimpse of a Golden Cat on a previous visit — enough to ensure I would keep returning.
This trip was wilder, more demanding, and crazier than the last two. The plan was to drive up to Bhompu camp, set up base there, and make daily excursions toward Sunderview Tower — a stretch that has historically seen some Golden Cat activity.
On July 12th, as we began the climb to Bhompu camp, torrential rains unleashed a rockslide, cutting off the road.
It seemed like game over — but not quite plan B kicked in.
With Plan A washed away, we activated Plan B: drive back five hours to Tezpur, spend the night at my driver’s house, and head out the next morning for Lama Camp via Tenga. We reached Lama by late afternoon and immediately decided to scout the road conditions toward Eaglenest Pass.
That’s when we met a group of researchers camped at the pass, who warned us of a major block up ahead. We figured our 4x4 Gypsy could push through — and it did, at first. We navigated two small waterfall-induced rockfalls. But the third? A complete no-go.
So, my guide and I set off on foot to assess the rest of the trail. A 20-minute walk brought us to Sunderview Tower. We returned, arranged for help to carry our supplies, and trekked back in — gear, provisions, and all. This modest tower would now be our five-star luxury suite for the next three nights.
Rain, Leeches, and Belly Button Battles
Over the next three days, we walked 35 km — through downpours, ankle-deep puddles, and a constant barrage of leeches. I got bitten several times, but the most painful one was by a bloodthirsty bugger who somehow squirmed under three layers of clothing to bite me — right in the belly button. I caught him just in time.
Still, nature offered other gems. I got my first photograph of the Himalayan Wood Owl, and some decent frames of the Giant Bhutan Flying Squirrel, Grey Nightjar, and Yellow-rumped Honeyguide. But the main goal remained elusive. yet, despite all that effort — not a single cat showed up.
Shifting Strategies
By the third afternoon, it became clear our walking approach wasn’t working. The constant movement and noise were alerting any cat long before we got close. And we couldn’t track after dark — prime time for these nocturnal predators — because of elephant and gaur movement in the area. Simply too risky on foot.
We returned to Lama Camp and switched to morning and evening drives between there and the block point. For the next three days, we kept trying. Again — no cats. Even bird activity was subdued, with most species busy nesting or feeding their chicks.
On the final night, we saw a herd of elephants ascending into the hills. A beautiful, humbling scene which I just sat and soaked in did not even lift my camera— reminding me that even without the headline species, the forest always has something to offer.
The Weight of Hope
Each morning, I set out full of hope — camera and lens on shoulder — and that hope helped me cover ground effortlessly. But the return, empty-handed, made the weight of the gear,the distance and the silence —all seemed to double.
Next time, I’ll go in April which is peak birding season. That way, I’ll be clicking bird photos all day, and won’t have time to dwell on my search for something that’s harder than finding God.
Big cat photography is glamorous.But Small cat photography is an entirely different game — tedious, frustrating, and painfully slow. But perhaps that’s what makes the eventual success so intoxicating.
“Rich in experience, poor in returns — that’s how I’d sum up this trip in a single line.”
Will I go back?
Absolutely.
A link to some photos from the trip
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