Sunday, August 1, 2010
Snow Leopard
She is beautiful and not the slightest bit interested in me. From her vantage point atop a boulder, she surveys the paths that lead to her enclosure. As self-absorbed children noisily pass, her lingering gaze betrays her intent. It may not be hunger that drives her, but it is in her nature.
Calmly, she sits and watches the world move around her. And then something catches her eye. I don't know whether it is the platinum blonde of her hair, but the arrival of a young woman has captured her attention She is off.
With her body low, she slinks across the waterfall into the cover of a couple of sparse trees. Even beneath her thick coat of mottled white, I can see her muscles are taut. She is hunting.
There is no time to change lenses and I watch as she comes down the embankment toward the perimeter of her cage. She crouches further as she reaches the electric wire that warns her that this is as far she is allowed. The moat does not look wide enough to prevent her crossing. The metal grid of the cage does not look tall enough to prevent her coming over the top.
Coiled to strike, the object of her focus remains oblivious as she rummages through a handbag. And then she changes her mind. It's as if memory has overhwelmed her instinct and she retreats the way she came. I am sure it is disgust that I can read in her expression as she returns to her perch.
Snow leopards are now my favourite of the big cats.
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