Sighs
rolled out of the gate as the jeep’s wheels did.
“We just missed it! I mean, we could smell
it. Smell it! We knew it was there…” exclaimed someone.
“Oh, why
did we turn left instead of right? I knew we shouldn’t have left that area.” I lamented.
“Just
missed it! The tiger!” reiterated another person.
Slowly our
grumbles ceased but an audible sigh could be heard from time to time. The jeep
had stopped just out of the gate, as one of Phillip’s friends had called him
over for a chat. Had they seen it? I directed a stream of silent jealousy,
veiled as animosity, at them. Just missed it… Why, oh why, was my luck so
terrible?
“Again,
huh?” I said, leaning forward to chat with Sam, the assistant. She had missed a
tiger before, too, having heard the alarm calls of the deer and actually
finding a dead deer before being called out of the park as it was closing time.
“Yeah,
again. And we were pretty close, too!” she said. Disappointment tinged both our
voices. I turned back to look at the forest we had just left. What if, by some
miracle, right at the forest’s end, it came striding out? I laughed at myself.
I hoped too much. What if… there was no point in playing the ‘what if’ game
now. It would only increase my disappointment.
There wasn’t much of a chance in
seeing a big cat tomorrow, in the last safari, either. Phillip’s streak of
seeing a big cat every time in Kabini would be broken, and luck would have its
way. Oh, cruel Fate! Why did you tease me so? But this was no time to break
into poetry- I had better concentrate on clicking some birds so I had at least
something to show for this drive. We had just been concentrating on tigers and
leopards and hadn’t stopped for any birds, or anything else, for that matter.
Not that we had seen anything else. No mongoose, or gaur, or sambar (a type of
deer). Just endless herds of chitol
(Indian Spotted Deer) and birds.
Suddenly
Phillip came sprinting back from his friends. “Start the jeep! Quick!” he
cried, and ran to the forest official’s office/hut for something. The driver
reversed back into the park, and turned around, just as Phillip came sprinting
back. The car was moving when he jumped in. “Might be a false alarm, but we
have to try. Hold on tight, switch on your cameras, and take off your hats. We
need to go at full speed!” My heart leapt. Tiger? Leopard?
I started
to remove my hat when the jeep started moving. Fast. Gripping onto the seat in
front of me, I sat on the hat and looked around. The excitement was obvious on
everyone’s face. Hair was flung back in the wind that raced past us, so
deliciously cool. I opened my mouth wide, ready to scream but didn’t for fear
of scaring it, whatever it was, away. My heart beat fast and I looked around at
everything, at everyone. What was it? What would it be? Tiger? Leopard? Please,
God, please… The wind continued moving, moving, moving, buffeting us back and
forth as the jeep raced at full speed over every pothole and puddle.
Suddenly
the jeep shuddered to a halt, and we were thrown back. A group of jeeps like
ours and buses were all gathered around an area, blatantly disregarding the
rule of being 30 meters apart when looking at wildlife. “I can see it!” said
Phillip excitedly. “It’s on a tree, leopard!”
My heart
rate rose. “Where? Where?” I asked, my eyes as usually blinded when important things were happening. Someone pointed. I looked. I stared.
There, on a
forked tree without leaves that was probably destroyed by lightning lounged a
leopard. It was magnificent. Feet hanging over the edge and tail hanging down,
eyes closed, silky gold fur iridescent, it was just sheer beauty. I got my camera
out and zoomed in. Everything was silent but for the birds and the clicking of
cameras. It yawned, canines bared, and a flurry of clicking arose. I just kept
looking at it, then at the camera, awed by it. My finger didn’t move off the
shutter button. This was amazing. It needed to be recorded. This was a leopard,
right there, about 30-50 meters away, huge, resplendent in its glory. This was
it. This was a big cat. This was the big cat. I thought of what it made of all
these people looking at it with strange blank devices and strange concentrated
expressions, and chuckled to myself. But it didn’t really seem to be bothered.
Perhaps it was used to it, or just too tired or sleepy. Slowly it turned its
head towards us and quickly I clicked, clicked, clicked. I had never seen
anything like it before. Nothing at all.
Even as the
jeep rumbled away from the leopard, still resting on the tree, I couldn’t take
my eyes off it, or stop thinking of it. It was just amazing.
If you've got a tale of an animal you saw, or an amazing behavior you experienced, tell us about it in the comments, or mail it to amazinganimalssociety@gmail.com!
The Glasswing Butterfly
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