The North Western Ghats moist deciduous forests is a tropical moist broadleaf forest ecoregion of southwestern India. It lies between 250 and 1000 meters elevation in the northern portion of the Western Ghats range, from their northern end in Maharashtra state, through Karnataka to the transitional forests of Wayanad in Kerala. It surrounds the North Western Ghats montane rain forests ecoregion, which lies above 1000 meters elevation. The ecoregion has an area of 48,200 square kilometers (18,600 sq mi). It is bounded on the west by the Malabar Coast moist forests ecoregion, which lies between the 250 meter elevation and the Malabar Coast. At the northern end of the Western Ghats range in southeastern Gujarat, the ecoregion borders the Kathiawar-Gir dry deciduous forests to the west and the Narmada Valley dry deciduous forests to the northeast. The Wayanad forests at the southern end of the ecoregion mark the transition to the South Western Ghats moist deciduous forests to the south. To the east, in the rain shadow of the Ghats, lies the South Deccan Plateau dry deciduous forests ecoregion, whose tropical dry forests cover the Ghats' eastern foothills.
Famous quotes containing the words north, western, moist and/or forests:
“The Anglo-Saxon hive have extirpated Paganism from the greater part of the North American continent; but with it they have likewise extirpated the greater portion of the Red race. Civilization is gradually sweeping from the earth the lingering vestiges of Paganism, and at the same time the shrinking forms of its unhappy worshippers.”
—Herman Melville (1819–1891)
“All right, so there he is, our representative to the world, Mr. Western Civilization, in codpiece and pantyhose up there on the boards, firing away at the rapt groundlings with his blank verses, not less of a word-slinger and spellbinder than the Bard himself and therefore not to be considered too curiously on such matters as relevance, coherence, consistency, propriety, sanity, common decency.”
—Marvin Mudrick (1921–1986)
“Your wits can’t thicken in that soft moist air, on those white springy roads, in those misty rushes and brown bogs, on those hillsides of granite rocks and magenta heather. You’ve no such colours in the sky, no such lure in the distances, no such sadness in the evenings. Oh the dreaming! the dreaming! the torturing, heart-scalding, never satisfying dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming!”
—George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950)
“The forests are held cheap after the white pine has been culled out; and the explorers and hunters pray for rain only to clear the atmosphere of smoke.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)