Captivating cats

I’m wild about wild tigers, but my most ecstatic experience in India to date has been with caged cats. I fell in love with three white tigers at the Nehru Zoological Park in Hyderabad. I didn’t see it coming! I spent time with the cats for nearly a week, and, though separated by a chain link fence, our interactions enthralled me.

I had come to the city in early March for the annual Fulbright conference and, afterwards, was to join the director of the Hyderabad Tiger Conservation Society, Imran Siddiqui, in forest north of the Kawal Tiger Reserve on the border of Madhya Pradesh, only my plans were curtailed on account of Naxals in the forest. The rebels were pushing their edge and had recently warned Imran not to install camera traps — motion detector cameras affixed to trees that, when tripped, photograph whatever is moving in front of them, like tigers and forest guerillas. I guess you could say the Naxals were gun shy to be on camera? I didn’t wager it would be the best time for an American documentarian to venture into the jungle.

Instead I spent my week at the zoo getting to know the animal caretakers, the wildlife vet, and most remarkably, the tigers that live on the other side of the door marked “Danger.” These included jaguars (and two newborn jaguar cubs), Bengal tigers, and white tigers, which are Bengal tigers with a melanin deficiency. When I accompanied the vet and staff on their rounds to their enclosures, the white cats went berserk hissing, roaring and charging the fence. I wondered why they would react that way with people who had taken care of them for years. Was it my presence or the caretakers’ that was triggering them, or perhaps something about our approach to their cage? Why so fussy, pussycats?

Big cat behavior and animal cognition are relatively unexplored frontiers of knowledge that fascinate me. I am not an animal behaviorist, but I believe it is possible to connect positively with larger felines, or any animals, for that matter, given the right mindset and communication. I asked the keepers if I could observe and interact with the tigers alone and not with a group of people, and they obliged me by watching from a distance. My presence could stress the cats, so rather than walk straight to their cages, I eased into their space by crawling on the ground nearby while playing with a coconut shell and acting disinterested. I batted the shell about and chased it as if it were a mouse. I sometimes pounced and pawed the grasses. This got the cats very interested in me. All three watched attentively, and I gradually moved closer. Occasionally I would look up at them with half-shut eyes the way cats do when they are relaxed and not threatened. I would yawn, make low purring sounds and lick my arm as if bathing. In this way the cats let me approach the fence and sit without hissing or acting in a threatened manner. They were curious about me. Each one would take turns investigating me by coming closer, putting their faces close to mine and smelling me. We breathed on each other and practically touched noses.

Each day I would greet the cats by slowly approaching them while talking in a low, calm voice before sitting down next to the fence. The tigers would usually plunk down next to me and bathe or just relax, or roll over on their backs and reach out their paws to me in the way cats do when they want to play. The keepers saw this was happening and let me interact with them alone. The cats never hissed or charged. I was told it was atypical for the tigers to let anyone get this close. They may have acted out with others, but they were just big pussycats with me. (At least that's what they want me to think!) A cautionary limerick comes to mind:

There was a young lady of Niger Who smiled as she rode on a tiger; They returned from the ride With the lady inside, And the smile on the face of the tiger.

I had an exchange with leopards at Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve that was similar to my experience with the zoo tigers. The man-eating cats there are caught between the cracks of care and lead a thankless life in cages barely bigger than their bodies. Some of the leopards had been there for weeks, and others, months and even years. I was not allowed to take their pictures. They were very afraid of people. Other than eating, they live each day without stimulation, sunshine, interaction or exercise. Their situation is a story in and of itself and one that produces different emotions and perspectives. Should humans care for animals that have harmed or killed humans? For me, I did not see the crimes of these cats’ dharma, only an intelligence and curiosity shining through their eyes. The leopards seemed so grateful for my company. Some were too shut down to engage, but others would perk up and play by rubbing their heads and bodies against the bars of the cage, rolling over, purring, and reaching out their paws to me. One big guy would even bring me his bones and crunch them next to me. My time with these cats and the tigers was pure joy. I want to make a positive difference in the lives of captive cats.

The Nehru zoo staff members were enthusiastic in their interactions with the animals and helpful in relaying information to me about their jobs and the role the zoo plays in conservation education, animal breeding, and animal welfare. Yet people who work with animals are not necessarily empathetic with animals or know how to communicate with them or act in their best interest. Animals’ long-term welfare, whether in a tiger reserve or at the zoo, depends on diverse teams of people managing their care; specialists such as wildlife biologists and/or animal behaviorists should be included. This combination of expertise will make a positive difference in the lives of big cats.