There’s a sound I miss each winter in Dehradun. It’s the call of a specific migratory bird—possibly a greenish warbler—that used to frequent our neem tree each December. For years it returned, until one year it didn’t. And it hasn’t since.
Migration, at its core, is nature’s rhythm. From birds that fly thousands of kilometres to elephants that move seasonally through corridors, migration is how wildlife survives. It’s how ecosystems maintain balance, gene pools stay healthy, and resources are used sustainably. But increasingly, this rhythm is being interrupted—and silence is spreading between the trees.
Why Animals Move
Migration is not aimless wandering—it is survival-driven movement in response to climate, food, water, and breeding cycles. In India, iconic species like the bar-headed goose, Amur falcon, and even leopards exhibit migratory behaviour. In the forests of Rajaji and Corbett, elephants follow ancestral paths to reach salt licks, riverbeds, and calving areas.
But these paths—called wildlife corridors—are now fractured. Roads, railways, mines, and unchecked construction carve through them, leaving animals trapped in patches of shrinking habitat. The result? Increased human-wildlife conflict, inbreeding, and loss of biodiversity.
Corridors at Risk
Uttarakhand once had vibrant elephant migration routes connecting Terai regions with the Shivalik foothills. Today, only a few remain functional. In 2020, the death of six elephants on the Haridwar–Dehradun railway track was a grim reminder of what happens when development ignores nature’s highways.
Corridors like the Chilla–Motichur corridor are now textbook cases in wildlife fragmentation. Once used regularly by tigers and elephants, these routes are now intersected by resorts, fencing, and traffic, severing lifelines that took generations to establish.
The Ripple Effect
When migratory routes collapse, the impact isn’t limited to animals alone. It affects forest regeneration, prey-predator dynamics, and even agriculture. For example, migratory herbivores help control invasive species by selective grazing. Carnivores disperse seeds and regulate prey populations. Remove these players, and the system teeters.
We also see a rise in crop raiding, livestock deaths, and fear among rural communities—further fuelling hostility toward wildlife.
What We Can Do
Saving migration is not about fencing animals in—it’s about giving them freedom to move. And this begins with securing and restoring corridors. Wildlife overpasses and underpasses (like those on the NH44 in Madhya Pradesh), responsible tourism regulation, and strict EIAs (Environmental Impact Assessments) for development projects are essential.
Local involvement is equally crucial. Near the buffer zones of Rajaji, I’ve seen villages voluntarily dim lights during migration season to avoid disturbing animals. Children carry out awareness walks. Farmers build low-voltage barriers to avoid conflict. These efforts, though small, carry immense meaning.
The Sound of Hope
I wait each year, still, for that little bird to return. Maybe one day, when the corridors are healed, it will. Until then, we must listen—not just to the calls of wildlife, but also to the silence they leave behind.
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