In Maharashtra’s Junnar region, farmers in Pimperkhed have begun wearing metal-spiked dog collars while working in sugarcane fields after a series of leopard attacks.
Three people were killed in three weeks in Pimperkhed, with all the attacks taking place in broad daylight.
Local residents say leopards have adapted to sugarcane fields over generations, bringing them closer to homes, roads and courtyards.
Forest officials have approved action against the leopard believed to be responsible and announced relocation and sterilisation measures, but village residents say fear remains part of daily life.
Leopards and metal-spiked dog collars are familiar sights in Junnar, Maharashtra. In weekly markets, rows of sturdy collars are sold to protect village dogs from big-cat attacks. But in Pimperkhed village, after a series of deadly leopard attacks, farmers have begun fastening the same collars around their own necks before going to work in the fields.
The idea came from desperation. “The leopard situation is so scary and serious that there was no other way left to save our lives on the farm,” said farmer Mauli Dhome.
The decision did not come suddenly. Last month, a leopard dragged away Dhome’s dog into the sugarcane fields. The dog survived because the spiked collar prevented the predator from gripping its neck properly.
For Dhome’s family, that incident became a turning point. “We cannot stop work because of the leopard. What else can we do?” said a woman from the household, as she secured her own collar before heading into the tall crop.
Many village residents say they trust these metal collars more than the flexible plastic and silicon “neck guards” distributed by the Forest Department. More than 3,000 such guards were handed out, but acceptance has been poor.
“They gave us plastic belts. Who will risk their life with that?” said a resident. “The government is doing nothing. We have to protect ourselves.”
Pimperkhed lies about 75 kilometre from Pune, on the plains beside the Ghod river. The area is dominated not by forests, but by vast sugarcane fields cut through by state highways and village roads.
These fields have become leopard habitat. Across the Junnar-Narayangaon belt, leopards have adapted to sugarcane landscapes over generations. Local residents say many of the region’s leopards may never have entered a forest.
Born in the dense cover of cane fields, the animals grow up near human settlements, feeding mostly on dogs, goats and poultry. At times, they attack people.
Leopard sightings in courtyards, on village roads, on compound walls and in CCTV footage have become routine. The surprise factor has gone, residents say, until someone is killed.
Since 2020, leopard attacks on humans have risen sharply in the region. But what happened in Pimperkhed this season was different in scale and timing: four attacks in three weeks, three of them fatal, all in broad daylight.
Assistant Conservator of Forests Smita Rajhans said the pattern was unusual.
“Such back-to-back daytime attacks are indeed strange. Leopards are mostly active in the dark,” she said.
On October 12, around 10am, five-year-old Shivanya Bombe was playing near her family’s sugarcane field, just a few feet from her grandfather, when a leopard pounced. The elderly man leapt onto the animal in a desperate attempt to save her, but it was too late. The leopard had already gripped her neck.
On October 22, at about 6.30 am, 82-year-old Bhagabai Ranganath Jadhav was attacked just outside her house and dragged into the fields.
“There were three leopards, two smaller ones, probably cubs. We ran after them, but they had already killed her. Some part of her head and hand was torn apart, eaten,” said her grandson, Sandip Jadhav.
On November 2, an 11-year-old boy was killed in his own courtyard while only his grandmother was at home.
“He suddenly disappeared behind the wall. I did not realise at first. By the time I ran, there was no one,” said Suman Bombe, who breaks down whenever anyone visits.
After the killing, village residents torched a Forest Department patrol vehicle near the Bombe house. The next day, a large protest blocked the Pune-Nashik highway.
Under pressure, authorities approved the shooting of the leopard believed to have killed the three residents, bringing a grim end to three weeks of fear.
Following public outrage, the Union and Maharashtra governments also approved a leopard sterilisation programme for the Junnar region, described by officials as the first of its kind in India.
Rajhans said the department would implement government orders. “Ten leopards from the Manikdoh rescue centre were sent to Vantara in 2024. Approval for relocating another 50 has been finalised,” she said.
But Pimperkhed remains on edge. The charred Forest Department van still lies overturned by the roadside. Trap cages have been placed around chronic conflict spots. Every pet dog wears a spiked collar. Many farmers now wear them too. Locals say the measures came too late.
In nearby Pimpari Kawal village, 75-year-old Baban Pabale said daily life had shrunk. “There used to be bhajan and Haripath every evening. More than 40 people came. Now only three. What will officials do for this?” he said.
Another village resident, Bhaskar Pabale, 45, recalled freezing when he saw a leopard ahead of him while switching off a farm water pump.
“For the next four or five days after that, I did not go to the farm in the evenings,” he said. Many such sightings never reach the news, residents say. The alarm is raised only when someone dies. “The danger is daily. Only deaths become news,” said one resident.
As dusk settles over the endless green of sugarcane, the region grows uneasy. Leopards, most active at twilight, move out from the crop cover towards village edges, roadsides and, increasingly, courtyards.
A few metres from the site of one attack, shepherd Ankush Kokare, 55, tends his flock in a temporary camp. Two weeks ago, he saw a leopard snatch a lamb in broad daylight.
“My entire life I have seen these attacks. Earlier it was only animals. Now humans. The government does nothing. Who will pay for the lamb I lost?” he asked.
By evening, the crossroads near the village fall quiet. Only a couple of tea stalls remain open. News spreads quickly: another leopard attack. A man had been mauled after stepping into a dark roadside corner while talking on his phone. Days earlier, a biker near Otur was pushed off his moving motorcycle by a leopard. Both survived.
Long-held assumptions that leopards attack only at night, or target only small prey, no longer reassure residents.
With leopards settled deep inside sugarcane landscapes and protected under Schedule I of the Wild Life Protection Act, locals say they feel cornered.
“All these years they told us leopards avoid humans, they come only at night and attack small prey,” said one village resident. “But here they hunt us in the morning, in our courtyards.”
For many in Pimperkhed, the language of coexistence now feels distant. “After so many deaths, how can anyone talk about coexistence?” a village resident asked.
This article is part of the series Conflict in the Backyard. A version of it was published in the cover story, Conflict in the Backyard, in the May 16-31, 2026 print issue of Down To Earth.