It is with great sadness that we share the heartbreaking news of the loss of one of our champions, Deo Kumar (DK) Gurung. Tragically, DK passed away in a rafting accident. This article reflects on his remarkable journey and the deep connection he forged with the research and conservation efforts for the Golden Mahseer.

We meet a lot of wonderful people in our line of work. Studying fish in remote locations often takes us on expeditions that include some challenging situations — rain, heat, cold, long hours, lost equipment, etc., yet these are the ingredients that provide some serious bonding opportunities. Field teams often start as strangers, but through conversations sitting by the fire, covering topics of life — family, hopes, and dreams — people quickly become not only colleagues, but life-long friends.

Our experiences in Bhutan have time and again shown us how an international team can come together to work diligently for years as professional colleagues toward a single conservation purpose, and in the process, become great friends. Deo Kumar (DK) Gurung was certainly that for us.

We first met DK, a young a wildlife Ranger at the time, on our first actual day of fieldwork in Bhutan. We and a reasonable contingent of Bhutanese were at the site of our first receiver station, all standing around trying to figure out how we were going to get a telemetry antenna up a tree without a ladder, and suddenly there was DK. He didn’t even really say much; he just kicked off his shoes and somehow scurried 20 feet up the tree trunk, and over the next couple of hours, he secured the antenna and all of the wiring to the receiver, staying up there until we were sure everything was working. Understanding that we’d likely need to do this for every one of our 17 receiver stations, we asked him two questions: “What is your name and what are you doing for the next two weeks?” That was just the start. DK became the mainstay for our now over-ten-year telemetry project in Bhutan.

It was clear that DK cared deeply about the conservation of wild things and even more so that he had an insatiable curiosity and willingness to learn. To capture and tag Mahseer for our project, we used standard recreational fishing gear (spinning rods and fly rods, with only artificial flies and lures). At that time in rural Bhutan, however, recreational fishing was unknown, and most people, including DK, had never even seen a fishing rod and reel. We very clearly remember the moment that David first put a fishing rod in DK‘s hand and showed him how to cast. It is a rare thing to observe first-hand the initial spark of a new passion, but it was most definitely there in that moment for DK. After that first field expedition, there was no turning back for him. He not only practiced his fishing constantly, but took it upon himself to watch videos, read articles and devour any information we passed on about spin fishing and fly fishing. In a very short time, he became one of the best anglers in our group and ultimately among the top anglers in all of Bhutan.

Beyond simply mastering the mechanics of fishing, he knew the importance of understanding what fish were doing and why. DK lived near our first study river and several of the key tributaries, and he would take the time to observe, sending photos when he’d see Mahseer grouping together at the mouths of those tributaries. He would ask for reports and journal articles about Mahseer and compare what these said with his own observations.

In 2015, FCF sponsored DK and two other Bhutanese colleagues to attend the American Fisheries Society meeting in Portland. The basic goal was to broaden their views on fisheries science and the scope of fisheries management around the globe. DK devoured everything, going to as many talks as he could and proudly presenting the Mahseer team’s research at the poster session. He talked to other international delegates and happily gave interviews. He knew that this was a big opportunity, and he wasn’t going to waste a second of it. He took an entirely new perspective back to Bhutan that changed the trajectory of how his government viewed managing their aquatic resources.

Our relationship with DK grew stronger after every trip. He even began to call us Dad and Mom. In Bhutan, there is a lot of hard physical work — slogging equipment up and down steep slopes or while scrambling across a shoreline of boulders. DK would tell us several times a day, “put that down, your Bhutanese son will do that.” Throughout the year, he would text us to not work too hard. To enjoy nature. To eat healthy.

It is not an exaggeration to say that the Mahseer Telemetry Project would not have been successful without DK. Remote field research does not get far without that one person who is willing to climb the trees, to hike miles in rain to make sure that the equipment is OK after a flood, to be sure the data is downloaded to the right folders. DK was that person. He was also the person who after a really long day asked who would be getting up with him at first light to fish just for the chance to tag another fish.

All of us understood this kind of work is not without it dangers. We were rudely reminded of that on our first rafting trip to tag fish. DK and Julie were in the front of one of the rafts when it hit a rock at the top of a very long rapid. A big wave washed both out of the raft and into the maelstrom, but there was no assisting each other as they were tossed about and pulled under water all the way through the entire rapid. Miraculously, both came out of it fairly unscathed, but it was a very scary experience indeed. Surprisingly, this did not deter DK. In fact, he took that experience to heart and learned how to be safer on the river and ultimately became a boatman.

It does not make sense that his death was the result of a rafting incident, especially when he was so knowledgeable about the dangers inherent with working on and in rivers. But these things rarely make sense. Those that knew DK know he died on the river he loved, doing something he treasured. He died near the Manas River Lodge, a place that he poured his heart and soul into constructing. Because the river was such a big part of his life, it seems significant that it was also a part of his death.

But DK’s life was bigger than just the river. He was proud to be a wildlife ranger. He was an avid birder and photographer. He was an excellent cook. He was an attentive son. He was an incredibly proud father. He was an adoring husband. He was a thinker and a planner. He was endlessly creative. And yes, he was one of our Bhutanese sons.

While there is a large hole left by his passing, we can all find ways to honor his spirit and make our own lives richer and practice those things that made DK so special:

• to keep learning,
• to stay curious,
• to be kind,
• to seek out those deep connections with wild things.

Thank you, DK, for sharing these gifts.