The exit route was different from the one that we came in from. From where we were standing, it looked more verdant, more grassy and less forest-y. For some time, the walk was pleasant. Even spotted a tiger wasp and were promptly asked to stay away from it.
Then the woods got thicker. Our upright postures had to stoop to avoid stray twigs overhead. The ground was slushy and we had to watch our step. Sunlight, once again, made itself rare. We came to a tree which had some 20 to 25 ‘beads’ bobbing up and down. The guides told us they were dancing spiders. And then we saw their legs attached to their bodies. Long, bent and black in colour. Leveraging their bodies up and down, incessantly. The moment we went closer, there was a flourish and the spiders scampered in all directions, most of them getting into a big hole in the bark. I pointed my camera inside and used flash. The results are straight out of a creature feature.
The bison from morning (refer the second post) looked about the size of an ordinary cow from a distance. Up, close and personal, our perspective changed. At least one guide always walked ahead of us, leading the way. We had arrived at a clearing where the only vegetation was six feet high bushes. While going around one of them, our guide suddenly stopped in his tracks. He swooped low, took a couple of steps backwards and looked at us with his finger on his lips, motioning us to maintain absolute quiet. His soundless lip movements suggested that we were to witness a bison beyond the next bush. We ducked too, craning our necks to catch the creature. What I saw sent a chill down my spine. Like a huge ox, his size would be comparable to an SUV. A shiny brown coat with curved horns that would make any predator think twice before attacking. And he was standing just 10 feet away! His face was pointed away from us and we were getting a rump side view.
A photograph was becoming. But my camera was tucked away in its case on my waist, secured with Velcro. In the desolate silence of the forest, the ripping sound that Velcro makes is enough to alert any creature. And sure enough, the bison stopped grazing, turned its head and was now looking in our direction. In the mini seconds that followed, we were unsure about what it would do next. Would it charge at us? It would need just one single blow to knock all five of us off our feet and into orbit. It certainly looked keen. But then there was the sound of hooves stomping the ground, a heavy body moving through air and the bison was off into the forest, never to be seen again. All I could mange was a hazy photograph which I attach here as a testament to my failure to shoot a wild bison up close.
The trek continued silently, with us reflecting on the possibilities of what the bison could have achieved, had it decided to charge in the opposite direction. This until we came to a tree with its lower bark scratched out. It seemed so natural, we wouldn’t have noticed it if the guides wouldn’t have stopped to point it out. The scratches were the doings of a tiger that had sharpened his claws on the bark post a kill. I touched the shavings and they were fresh.
We were now, officially, traversing a wild zone with little to protect us from an attack, should there be any.
Cont'd...
