Langur monkeys, their old men's faces framed in backlit haloes of silver fur, observe us from a pipal tree, and chital stags with velvet antlers are bellowing at the dawn. Soon it will be time for Holi, the festival that marks the end of winter. No rain has fallen for months and although the trees are still green the sound of falling leaves is everywhere.
By midday the land lies drugged with heat, but inside the forest it is always cool. High overhead the tall trees join hands, creating long aisles of dappled shade, and we walk in a cathedral stillness broken only by the hooting calls of the langurs and the metallic notes of the coppersmith, a jungle bird whose monotonous voice marks each passing second. It is so peaceful I almost forget I am in India. Until I see the tracks in the dust. Each pugmark is as broad as my hand outspread - clear evidence that a tiger has been here before us. How long ago? Two hours? Two minutes? All I know is that they are fresh, and with a sudden, spine-tingling adrenalin rush I recall the poster at the park entrance.
"You might not have seen the tiger," it says. "But the tiger has seen you." Satpura is wild India's best-kept secret. Named after the hills that cross the park, it was established in 1981 and, until Forsyth's Lodge opened a year ago, was one of the country's least-visited parks. Today it offers visitors the rare experience of enjoying a tiger reserve not overrun by tourist vehicles. No more than 10 Jeeps are allowed inside its 210 square miles, and it is the only park where walking in tiger country is permitted. Read the full article here.
Source: Brian Jackman, Telegraph, U.K.
