The Leopard at Dawn

We left camp in darkness. The jeep rattled along the dirt track as the first grey light crept over the plains, and our tracker, Sena, sat forward, reading the land like a page.

For a breathless moment, the leopard and I simply looked at one another across the golden grass.

Yala holds the highest density of leopards anywhere on earth, yet they remain ghosts — glimpsed, rarely held. For two hours we followed alarm calls and pugmarks, the anticipation building with every turn.

And then, in a clearing fringed with golden grass, she appeared. A young female, unhurried, her coat catching the early light. For a breathless moment, the leopard and I simply looked at one another across the golden grass.

She slipped back into the scrub as silently as she had come. We sat in stunned silence, and Sena smiled. 'The forest decides,' he said, 'when it wants to be seen.'