The tiger and me

I am here in India looking for tigers, and am struck by the way my fellow human beings respond to their encounters —what they want from the whole tiger experience. It is a privilege to see these animals in the wild, and believe me, you can easily fail.

Years ago I spent days tracking them at another park, and though the gamekeepers kept up a plucky commentary — pointing to scratches on trees and snapped grass stems that proved ‘tiger was here’ — we saw neither hide nor hair.

Here at Ranthambore in Rajasthan, however, it is another story. The leaves have yet to return to the axle wood trees; the guides are expert, cocking their ears for the distress call of the chital deer, and people are spotting so many tigers that they are getting quite competitive, in a way that is revealing of our frail human psychology.

It’s all about the ratio of people to beast, and what the punters want is the maximum tiger score to themselves.