- Human-elephant conflicts were once concentrated in the border village of Bahundangi in eastern Nepal, but the problem has since spread to other villages further west as a result of rapid urbanization, deforestation and infrastructure expansion that have forced elephants into human settlements.
- Several villagers have been killed in elephant attacks in these villages in Koshi province, leaving local families living in constant fear as they struggle to protect their homes, crops and lives from wild elephants.
- Local authorities have attempted solutions like digging trenches, installing sirens and conducting awareness campaigns, but many measures have proved ineffective or created new problems; limited funding and lack of long-term planning hinder sustainable solutions.
- Conservationists say the template from Bahundangi, the border village that learnt to live with the elephants, could help new conflict areas avoid losses much more swiftly and without wasting resources.
SUNDAR HARAICHA, Nepal — A bundle of firewood lay abandoned on the path, a silent witness to tragedy. Nearby, a red shawl, once wrapped around Chandra Kumari Limbu, remained. The footprints of the wild Asian elephant that killed her were still etched on the edge of the forest.
Two weeks after the attack, these remnants served as painful reminders of Limbu’s sudden and violent death. The 61-year-old’s family remains in shock. Her daughter-in-law, Prishna Limbu, recalled the evening of the attack. “She had just gone to collect firewood,” she says. “We never thought this would happen to us.”
At their modest tin-roofed home on the edge of Sundar Haraicha, in eastern Nepal’s Koshi province, Prishna tended to livestock, her daily routine overshadowed by grief.
For years, human-elephant conflict simmered around Bahundangi, a border village in eastern Nepal. As Bahundangi, after protracted conflict, learned to live with elephants, communities further west — such as those in Sundar Haraicha, unaware of such possibilities — now grapple with similar trials. Their situation highlights the urgency of swifter coexistence awareness, and behavior change with fewer losses than what Bahundangi endured, conservationists say.
Asian elephants (Elephas maximus) once roamed the entire east-west corridor of Nepal’s southern plains, a range of more than 900 kilometers (560 miles). The rich floodplains of the perennial Koshi, Gandaki, and Karnali rivers provided ample food, and vast areas free of human habitation allowed the elephants to make the east-west journey without much hindrance. However, as human migration to these plains increased and roads and infrastructure developed, traditional elephant corridors were disrupted, splitting populations in the east and west.
The waves of migration and infrastructure expansion persist even today. In the middle hills, residents suffering water scarcity and inadequate health care and education are relocating to the plains of the Terai Arc. Meanwhile, massive roadwork expansion works gather momentum in the eastern Terai, to boost trade and connectivity with neighboring regions. This transformation is reshaping the forested landscape, as squatters settle along its fringes and swaths of forests are razed for roads — encroaching upon vital elephant corridors. All this adds fuel to the negative human-elephant interactions in the region.
Radha Ghimire, a 41-year-old mother of two in Shantinagar near the dense Char Kose Jhadi, a patch of forest located between the towns of Itahari and Dharan in eastern Nepal, still remembers the night she was jolted awake by her daughter’s scream. An elephant had snatched a sack of rice from their home and was making its way back to the forest.
“The next night, it returned while we were sleeping,” recalls Ghimire, from a migrant family.
“It ate 16 or 17 cobs of maize, scattering a few along the path to the forest.”
Ghimire’s fear is echoed by many. “The fear of elephants is constant. You never know when they will come and cause destruction or even kill someone,” she says. “Who is responsible for controlling this — the ward office, the municipality? There must be some authority that takes action.”
Beeju Poudyal, assistant professor at the Agriculture and Forestry University, Hetauda, says Bahundangi was synonymous with human-elephant conflict, so most of the interventions focused on the border village. “It served as an easy entry point for elephants crossing into Nepal,” she tells Mongabay. “However, it now appears that elephants are avoiding Bahundangi and using the alternative routes further south to move west on their traditional routes, where communities are unprepared to cope with these changes.”
The area south of Bahundangi, or jhalthal (“water and land” in Nepali), also has dense forest cover. On the forest’s edges, farmers cultivate crops such as rice and maize, favorites of the elephants, Poudyal says. “These conditions make jhalthal a natural corridor for their movement, allowing them to pass through while also teaching younger generations their migratory routes.”
News reports of human-elephant conflict, which once came largely from Bahundangi, are emerging from areas such as Sundar Haraicha, about 85 km (53 mi) to the west. In January alone, three villagers were killed there following an encounter with a wild elephant. One of them was a 71-year-old farmer who, in the chaos of the nighttime encounter, fell near a baby elephant and was killed by the protective mother.
At least 18 people have been killed in human-elephant conflicts in Koshi province over the past decade, even as no deaths have been reported in Bahundangi since 2015, according to the provincial Ministry of Tourism, Forests and Environment. During the same period, a nearly equal number of wild elephants have been killed, primarily due to electrocution, gunfire, and, in one instance, poaching.
The villages west of Bahundangi are resorting to measures tried and failed in Bahundangi decades ago, says Shankar Luitel, a conservationist in Bahundangi. “We tried these measures and we have learned the lesson: they didn’t work,” he says.
During a recent visit to Shantinagar, residents tell Mongabay that they want better lighting, as many areas remain dark at night. While the municipality has installed sirens in houses near the forest, locals say this measure is inadequate. Local officials have even tried deterrents like trenches. A trench 3 meters (10 feet) deep along the forest edge, ordered by ward chief Madhav Koirala, has instead become a hazard; following heavy rains, a calf belonging to a resident fell in and drowned. “Instead of stopping elephants, it created new problems,” Koirala says.
Tanuj Gurung, another ward representative, says he opposed the trench from the start. “Trenches might deter elephants temporarily, but they are not a long-term solution,” he says. His office has explored installing electric fences, but lack of money and municipal interest stalled the project.
Since Nepal transitioned to a federal system of government in 2015, authorities at all levels have accelerated construction projects, including of roads, highways and urban centers. Once-dense forests are now giving way to housing developments, water parks and paved roads, disrupting the natural movement of elephants.
A flurry of road projects is reshaping Koshi province, cutting through critical wildlife corridors for migratory elephants, including the Char Kose Jhadi forest. Among them, a 15-km (9-mi) stretch of the East-West Highway is being upgraded, running from Kakkarbhitta, on Nepal’s border with India, to Laukahi near the Koshi River. This expansion is part of the Asian Highway, an ambitious network linking South and Southeast Asia.
However, apart from a single underpass in Chaar Aali, the highway segment — carving through some of the province’s last dense forests — lacks safe crossings for wildlife. Similarly, the 1,200-km (750-mi) Madan Bhandari Highway, which snakes through the fragile Chure region, has moved forward despite criticism from environmentalists concerned about its ecological impact. This is hindering the movement of elephants and possibly making them conflict-prone, says Narendra Babu Man Pradhan, an elephant researcher.
In Bahundangi, once Nepal’s epicenter of human-elephant conflict, communities have shifted from fear to coexistence. Through grassroots volunteer teams, volunteer-facilitated compensation claims, and crop diversification, villagers have learned to minimize risk. These are the templates that need to be shared and implemented in villages like Sundar Haraicha and Shantinagar to minimize losses and prevent human casualties, conservationists say.
“Raising awareness is crucial, but it must go hand in hand with action,” says Luitel, the conservationist from Bahundangi, drawing on his own experience. “Local governments need to be proactive in addressing human-elephant conflict, rather than reacting only when tragedy strikes. Communities should keep this issue at the forefront, consistently engaging with authorities. If their voices are heard and their demands for compensation are met, their attitude toward wild elephants will shift.”
It’s a view shared by Ashok Ram, the chief conservation office at Bardiya National Park. “When people understand wild elephants — their behavior, food habits, and the pros and cons of living alongside them — their perspective shifts. Awareness is key,” he says.
While physical barriers like electric fences can deter elephants, Ram says active community participation is key. He cites Bahundangi’s transformation: “Everyone got involved in guiding elephants safely through the area, minimizing damage to crops and property. Volunteer groups like the Rapid Response Team manage elephant encounters without causing harm,” Ram tells Mongabay.
Proactive measures such as crop diversification, as implemented in Bahundangi, can also reduce conflicts, says Poudyal, the university professor and a native of Koshi province. “Growing less palatable crops, such as tea or mustard, has proven effective in deterring elephants. This not only reduces conflict but also provides economic benefits to farmers,” she says.
The road ahead
In early 2022, Nepal came up with the Wildlife Friendly Infrastructure Guidelines to prevent fragmentation of critical wildlife habitats. But it applies only to new projects; existing ones such as the expansion of roads passing through critical elephant habitats in eastern Nepal will not be upgraded as per the guidelines, posing further challenges.
Narendra Babu Man Pradhan, a former chief warden of Chitwan National Park, says it’s important to do so. “Simple changes, like adding green overpasses or underpasses on highways, can significantly reduce encounters,” he says. However, such measures remain inadequate in Nepal.
Poudyal calls for building underpasses as one of the most effective solutions for making infrastructure wildlife-friendly. “These should be planned at the outset of any construction project, not as an afterthought. Unfortunately, such measures are typically concentrated around national parks, while areas directly affected by wild elephants often lack even basic infrastructure, such as signboards warning drivers about wildlife crossings,” she says.
“To foster coexistence, communities should consider bringing in experts like us–people who understand elephant behavior and can help design effective mitigation programs,” says Luitel, the conservationist. “We’ve gained valuable experience in Bahundangi, and new conflict areas can benefit from that knowledge. Even a short-term engagement of a few weeks or months could help lay the groundwork for long-term solutions.”
Banner Image: A wild elephant in southern Nepal. Image courtesy of Ashok Ram.
Deepak Adhikari is a Kathmandu-based journalist.
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