Tale of the Tiger

We met the granddaughter of the renowned Lady of the Lakes two days ago while visiting the Ranthambhore National Park southeast of Jaipur:

Ranthambhore is home to about 50 tigers.

The grandmother was very famous and even has her own Facebook page; and now her granddaughter, the present Lady of the Lakes, rules a large section of the park. Her queendom is absolute, and no other female dare come into her domain. Sadly, however, the Bengal tiger is approaching extinction, and parks like this one make it possible for visitors' proceeds to add to the fund that is trying to protect the tigers.

Tigers have only one predator - humans.

Male tigers have to wait until they hear the female's powerful roar signaling that it's okay to enter their territory. A separate roar serves as a mating invitation, and vying for this privilege caused two male tigers to fight to the death in Ranthambhore just last year.

These giant cats are elusive by nature, and our guide told us that most groups only see them for brief glimpses. There have been several documentaries depicting her exploits, and needless to say we felt privileged to share time with her and take these pictures.

When we first came upon her, our driver/tracker had already shut down our canter (an open air truck that carries twenty people). He signaled everyone to be silent and then listened intently.

The surrounding area had suddenly become exceptionally quiet except for the shrill cries of some birds. Then came another sound, one I didn't recognize, which the driver told us was the warning sound of the local spotted deer. They knew that a tiger was on the prowl.

The cool early morning air seemed to make everything sharper, and we saw that she was coming our way. The whole group was frozen with surprise. Right in front of us was the Queen of the Lakes. These images show what happened next:

She walked to a high spot not far from our vehicle and sat down.

Then let out a huge yawn.

Before she settled into licking her paws and cleaning her face.

And took a look around.

Her gaze settled on us, and the animal stared eerily into our eyes.
We were only 30 feet away.

After about ten minutes the Lady of the Lake suddenly got up and began walking towards a grassy area in front of her. A herd of spotted dear starting making alarm sounds as they fled, and the tigress headed straight for the high grass. Our driver told us there was a baby deer hiding there – he had heard it crying for its mother.

The tiger found the deer in a matter of minutes, and after playing with it for an interminable ten minutes, she walked directly in front of our canter with a four-day-old fawn, still alive in her mouth.

Only twice per year does she allow guests to be present at her meals.

The Lady of the Lakes seemed almost proud of the kill as she walked towards the water, disappearing into the tall grass as a seven-year old girl in the canter behind us began crying. Through her sobs I heard the word ‘Bambi’.

I have counseled a number of people through the dying process, and sat with them as they drew their last breaths, but I have never experienced anything like this before. To be in the middle of such a primal event was breathtaking, and this was easily one of the most powerful experiences of my life. Most of us are far-removed from these truths, and as a whole our society has sanitized death by turning it into nothing more than a documentary on the Discovery Channel or a photograph in National Geographic. This, however, was stark reality:

We chanted prayers for the young deer and celebrated the awesome power of Mother Nature in the form of Kali Tiger. Life is ever entwined with death, and while I am still processing this experience, I know that it serves as a poignant, beautiful and terrifying reminder of the impermanence of life on the physical plane.