My first tiger sighting was of the tigress Muchli 'Lady of the Lakes', a perfect start, personally speaking. It hadn't been long since I'd watched the BBC films, Tiger Crisis and The Tiger's Fortress. The Lady of the Lakes and her daughter, had played a pivotal role throughout. Muchli (the daughter, and now the Lady of the Lakes) had two new cubs at around 12 months of age, one male and one female. The male was already showing real character and an inquisitive mind, much like the fabled tigers, Genghis and Charger.

RANTHAMBHORE TIGERS (MY FIRST TIGER ENCOUNTER)

Written by Elliott Neep
Copyright © Elliott Neep Wildlife Photography (ENWP)

MUCHLEE IN RANTHAMBHORE N.P. (MARCH 2003)

This wasn't the best setting, or indeed what I had envisaged to be a true tiger encounter. High up on a bank, The Lady and her cubs had been cornered after consuming the last of their mother's kill. They were now the centres of attention for 'The Circus' - The self-perpetuating paparazzi of the eco-tourist kind. It's a paradox, but one of the few things that protects the tiger from total annihilation is human curiosity in the form of tourism. While these tigers were being observed, photographed, pointed at (and a million other activities besides), they were not being poached. It's something that I just had to get used too.

After firing off several frames and shouting at other jeeps in my frustration to get a clear view, I decided to take a back seat and watch the show. It was too dark for photography anyway. I was utterly amazed by Muchli's calm composure. It was almost as if she knew that she was now the centre of everyone's universe. Remarkably, Muchli walked her cubs, first to one side of the bank and then to the other almost as if she was introducing the cubs to what they can expect for the rest of their lives. The cubs looked simply perplexed. Both cubs bore an almost comical expression of confusion and curiosity. At times it was hard to determine who was observing whom.

As I moved quickly back to my seat (from someone else's jeep!) I heard a number gasps. When I looked up at the cubs I was amazed to see that the male cub's heart-stopping gaze was undeniably glued on me! I'd moved quickly and broken the outline of the jeeps. I was something he had not seen before and he was curious. If I moved to one side, his stare and posture followed me. He was mirroring my every lateral movement. If there is one thing I will remember for the rest of my days, it will be his eyes and magical behaviour. Even though he was a mere 12 months, he already possessed a great asset. That astonishing tiger stare!

Jeeps continued to jostle for position behind me, steered by fervent drivers and dictatorial guides, eager to please and to provide the best view for their paying guests. Bumpers cracked, paint was scraped from metal, voices were raised, arms waved, fingers pointed… but still Muchli and her (now thoroughly bored) cubs looked on, gazing around with a noticeably bemused expression.

At this moment, I looked up to Muchli and found myself staring, unblinking. I was surprised at her tranquility. Muchli had walked softly to an outcrop of rock, jutting out above the jeeps. As she stood there, postured and proud, she looked out to the lakes beyond and to a distant horizon (no doubt seeking out the next meal). I wondered what the future would bring to this amazing family? I marveled at how easily Muchli managed to completely ignore the ongoing chaos beneath her. And that was it... we were beneath her.

Even though humans have massacred the tiger population, in her eyes we were still second in the food chain. If we stepped away from the safety of our jeeps, we would soon find ourselves thrust into our rightful position, as potential prey. While I thought this through, Muchli gathered her cubs and herded them off to thicker bush. She knew the circus would have to depart before sunset and that was soon approaching. Muchli could afford to wait before ushering her precious cubs to the nearest watering hole.

KACHIDA MALE IN RANTHAMBHORE N.P. (MARCH 2003)

One of the most noticeable differences between male and female tigers (apart from the size) is how they posture themselves when walking. When moving from family to the hunting zone, a female tiger walks as though on a mission, direct from a to b. Only glancing up to check her direction and obstacles. With cubs she is the epitome of devoted motherhood, a guardian angel and the centre of affection for her priceless family. She slinks through shadow and light and passes without a stir, barely even acknowledging the panic-stricken alarm calls from the local deer!

A male tiger on the other hand plants each and every paw with assertion, and utter dominance. Bowling and swaggering through trees and bush, he fears nothing. Marching like an invincible king, appearing nonchalant, but always alert, he reveals a blistering stare that stabs straight through your lens and camera, piercing your eye to the back of your brain. There he burns a long-lasting and ever-vivid impression. This was my first experience of a male tiger:

"It had been a slow day. We'd parked up on the verge of the track waiting in the blistering heat for an alarm call. Chips had been sighted with a kill close by the previous day so we were hopeful. A jeep trundled up the jeep and pulled up along side ours. While the guides and drivers shared information and knowing nods, the passengers in the back shared pleasantries. I hadn't said anything or even acknowledged them. I was in deep concentration. I really wanted to here that first alarm call. Finally, the jeep pulled away and was quickly obscured by its wake of dust. No sooner had the jeep disappeared from view than we heard an alarm call. It was different to the normal chital call though. The engine revved into life and we were off. Our guide, Raj leaned back to say that the call was from another guide. Ahead of us along the track I could see the other jeep. They were pointing fervently at something through the widely spaced trees. It was Chips, a huge male tiger.

Transfixed to the spot, nearly forgetting to press the shutter, I watched Chips amble through the dust and dappled shade of overhanging Pendula trees. He appeared out of nowhere in apparent blissful ignorance of the sudden commotion around him. His head rose slowly and through the light and dust his eyes seemed to flash. They burnt right into me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my skin prickled. Almost as if I wasn't even there, he looked through me and then walked on through a veil of dust and cacophony of alarm calls and revving engines.

For 5 minutes we all watched from the boundary of the track. Chips walked on towards a nallah (dry riverbed). Our guide quickly instructed the driver to follow a small track though the trees. Whether this was an official track or not, I have no idea. At the time I really didn't care. This tiger was more addictive than the most potent narcotic. I had to have more. I had to watch him.

We screeched to a halt at the end of a track that wrapped around an outcrop of rock overlooking the nallah We only had to wait a few seconds before Chips came into view. Our guide had positioned us perfectly. Chips swaggered on beneath us following the nallah's course passing in and out of the shade and dappled light. Briefly, without stopping, Chips looked up to our position and I amused myself with possible speech bubbles to fit Chip's expression regarding our presence. 'Pathetic' I think was the most apt. Chips continued along his path and at last the banded tail finally disappeared from view."

In less than 10 minutes Chips had stamped a lasting memory on a dozen people and each had obliged Chips with their absolute and undivided attention. After the whirlwind had passed my eyes felt dry and sore. I hadn't blinked. He'd held my gaze from beginning to end. I had even changed the film in my camera by touch! Even though we knew he was now well beyond sight we still stared, hoping for one last glimpse of that banded tail.