Whispers of Wild: A Family Discovery at Bansra Gali Wildlife Park, Murree
by, Irfana & Yasser Chattha
We hadn’t planned for this.
Originally, our hearts were set on the Ayubia Pipeline Track. But the temperature began to dip as we drove: gently at first, then noticeably. Islamabad had been basking in 35°C, but by the time we reached Kuldana, it had dropped to 14°C. The sudden chill urged a change in direction, and so we decided to stay around Murree.
“Let’s visit Mall Road,” one of us thought and it became agreed upon in no time by the shivering children wearing Tees. It wasn’t peak season, so the crowds would be lighter, the stroll perhaps more enjoyable. That’s the story we developed faith in.
So now lazy action begins!
We turned toward Lawrence College Road. Trees lined the way, and the mood turned unhurried.
That’s when we saw it, a modest signboard, slightly worn, barely imposing:
“Wildlife Park – Government of the Punjab.”
No dramatic promises, no colourful banners. Just a hint of something possibly worth seeing.
We turned. Out of instinct, curiosity, something quieter. What we found wasn’t just a detour. It was balm.
We’re writing this because a few friends asked us what it was like. We hadn’t heard much about this place either. But if you’re ever around Murree, and looking not for thrill, but for stillness, then this Park is worth a pause.
At the entrance, things were quiet. Almost too quiet. A man sat nearby, not rushed, not trying to sell anything. We asked if the Park was open. He simply nodded and welcomed us in.
The entry fee? Just 50 rupees for our family of four.
Established in 2012, Bansra Gali Wildlife Park doesn’t have the polish of commercial zoos. But it holds something else, an unbothered charm, a silence that soothes. The pine trees breathe gently. The paths invite rather than instruct. It is a place where children’s questions feel at home, and adults’ racing minds begin to quiet.
Our first encounter was with Rocky, the Siberian tiger. His orange coat shimmered behind the trees, and he moved with a lazy majesty.
Our elder son, Fereydoun, whispered:
“He looks like he’s thinking in tiger-language.”
The caretaker—calm, knowledgeable, and clearly fond of the animals—told us Rocky’s enclosure spans 7 to 8 kanals of jungle. Plenty of room to roam.
“In the summers, we bring ice,” he added. “He’s a Siberian, after all.”
We listened. Grateful. And though he didn’t say it, we could feel it: this was still a far cry from the snow-laced freedom of Siberia.
But it was a world better than the tiny, sorrowful cages we’d seen just a day before in Islamabad’s B-17 sector.
We had left that zoo carrying the ache of animals cramped into corners of concrete. Our children, especially, had felt it. So when Rocky blinked at us under filtered sunlight through the majestic Pine trees, it felt like a sort of peace.
The boys wandered ahead, full of wonder. And this wonder was for us the elders as well. The next encounters brought a bear, a wolf, and side by side: yaks and red deer—quietly grazing, undisturbed.
This picture links to Facebook/Instagram Reel by Irfana Yasser
The enclosures were large. The animals looked neither restless nor resigned. The children, too, seemed to slow down. To observe, not just see.
Our younger son, Jahanyar, said:
“I think this is the kind of place where animals don’t feel stared at. Just… noticed.”
We couldn’t have agreed more.
There were no grand facilities. Just one modest snack stall run by a park employee—who, in his own quiet sarkari employee brand entrepreneurial way, had started selling basic treats since no other food options existed.
Many families had brought their own food. Some were barbecuing under the trees (a risky enterprise though in the jungle, we felt). A few had picnic mats laid out, laughter floating softly through the trees.
There’s a small play area for children too: the kind that doesn’t try too hard, yet feels just right.
We spent nearly two hours there. Not because we were ticking boxes, but because time felt different inside. Slow. Kind. Uncomplicated.
As we left, Fereydoun, after watching a deer stretch beneath a tree, summed it up in his own way:
“This wildlife park is a great place for people who don’t like seeing animals suffer—and the place gives more of a habitat vibe.”
That stayed with us.
If you ever find yourself near Murree, especially with children—or with a tired mind that could use some quiet—you might want to take that small turn off Lawrence College Road. The sign won’t shout
But it might just lead you to something unexpectedly refreshing.
