Darjeeling's Tiny Dragons: A Community's Fight to Save the Himalayan Salamander

As summer wanes in the lush Margaret's Hope tea estate of Darjeeling, the weather is unpredictable. Drizzle falls softly through tall pine trees, only to be replaced by mist that obscures the hills. A steep road winds down through tea bushes, leading to a hidden pond about 11 kilometers north of Kurseong town. Dense sedge plants line the water's edge, resembling a natural barricade. In these hill villages of Darjeeling, India, such ponds are more than just water bodies; they are vital sanctuaries.

"Local communities have been protecting this species long before any funding or international recognition," states Barkha Subba, a Darjeeling conservation biologist. "These wetlands are deeply intertwined with local culture and religious beliefs." The pond at Margaret's Hope tea estate is one of India's last remaining breeding grounds for the Himalayan salamander, known locally as 'gora' or 'pani chepara' in Nepali. These creatures, sometimes called tiny dragons or crocodile newts due to the ridges on their dark bodies, can grow up to 20 centimeters long. Scientifically classified as Tylototriton verrucosus, they are listed as near threatened by the International Union for Conservation of Nature's Red List of Threatened Species, with a declining population.

Ramesh Rai, the 55-year-old munshi of the 160-year-old Margaret's Hope tea estate, diligently patrols the pond. His family has worked this land for generations, and he has known the 'gora' since childhood. "There is a place called Gorabari not far from here," he explains, gesturing towards the tea bushes. "In the past the gora used to be found throughout the garden fields up there. The place was named after them. That is how many there once were." Gorabari translates to 'garden of the salamander'.

By 1993, Ramesh observed the salamander population dwindling. Ponds were shrinking, eggs were dying, and habitats were being encroached upon by human activity and a changing climate. Without formal conservation training, he began protecting the salamanders. In 2005, he documented the vanishing creature in the first issue of Sahityashri, a Nepali literary journal published on the estate. MK Rai, who farms land nearby, recalls seeing them on the roads in June, July, and August, calling them "baby dragons" without fully understanding their significance.

Today, tourists sometimes leave plastic waste on the pond's banks. Ramesh, along with other community members and estate management, has helped construct a nursery pond and participates in clean-up campaigns organized by Subba's organization, the Federation of Societies for Environmental Protection (Fosep). "Saving the salamander," MK emphasizes, "means saving our culture, too."

Barkha Subba, who grew up in Darjeeling hearing tales of nature spirits, pursued biological sciences and a doctorate on high-elevation amphibians before returning to her hometown for conservation work. A 2014 survey by researcher Kartik Vasudevan of CCMB Hyderabad mapped 38 salamander habitats in Darjeeling, but upon Subba's return, most were found to be degraded or gone, with wetlands dried up and invasive species taking hold.

"Climate change is no longer a myth or a mystery," Subba states. "It is a fact we are seeing in everyday life. And the salamander is one of the clearest signs of what is being lost." A study published in Atmosphere in December 2024, analyzing Darjeeling's climate data from 1991 to 2023, revealed an increase in total rainfall but also significantly higher maximum temperatures. The rains are now more intense and shorter, disrupting the salamander's life cycle, which is intrinsically linked to the monsoon. The species exhibits site fidelity, returning to its birth pond to mate and lay eggs. However, if the monsoon rains cease prematurely, these shallow pools dry up, leading to the desiccation of eggs before they can hatch.

Further threats include the introduction of carp and guppies into the main pond by local religious groups, which prey on eggs and larvae, and the proliferation of invasive phragmites grass along the banks. However, climate change remains the primary concern.

In an effort to mitigate these threats, Ramesh, with community and estate management support, created a 1.8m-by-3m nursery pond featuring a vegetated island. Each March and April, he carefully relocates clutches of eggs to this safer environment, protecting them from predators like fish, herons, and snakes, and monitoring them until they hatch. This crucial work is done without pay.

Subba, who has visited Margaret's Hope since childhood, returned in 2020 as a scientist to map salamander habitats. She was surprised to find the community already engaged in conservation efforts. Around 2015, residents and estate management had manually cleared invasive grass and revitalized the nearly dried-up pond, prompting the salamanders' return.

Subba recognized that Ramesh possessed invaluable, long-term observational knowledge. "For him," she notes, "the salamanders are like his children." Their collaborative efforts have gained formal recognition. This year, Subba received the prestigious Whitley Award, presented by Princess Anne, for her work in protecting seven critical breeding sites across Darjeeling, including Margaret's Hope. She aims to expand this conservation framework to Nepal and Bhutan, creating a transboundary initiative for the species.

An estimated 5,000 Himalayan salamanders survive in the wild, with approximately 80% residing outside protected areas on tea garden land and private properties. As the mist envelops the landscape once more, Ramesh continues his watchful vigil. What began as a solitary effort by one man in 1993 has evolved into a broad conservation movement, merging local wisdom, community action, and scientific expertise. His work at the water's edge remains consistent: watching, waiting, and safeguarding what remains of this unique species.