Daylight required him to retreat from the open fields and well travelled paths to a shaded spot beneath an ancient tree. The tiger did not seem to notice, his chosen resting place was not deep in a jungle, or rather it was deep in a jungle of a very different kind. The tiger lay down in the city park, too tired and disoriented to consider leaving. "I will rest, and move on when darkness falls again." He missed the certainty of his forest home. He longed for the deep blanket of green he knew as a younger man. His home was far away, and if he had it to do over again, he often told others in the park, he never would have left. But he had believed that it would be better, here. Easy hunting, plentiful food and shelter who could resist?
The coolness of shade allowed some welcome relief from a night of moving in and out of shadow, hunting, searching, seeking and hiding. In the daylight, he could sleep, clean his wounds, allow the dryness of the air to dry his soiled feet and cracked skin. His coat, being thick and multilayered protected him from heat and cold. Its multicolored lines took on the rippling shadows of midday with a welcoming camoflage. In the relative safety of daylight, he at last could rest.
They saw him earlier in the day. His heaving breath and flailing limbs bore witness to the tiger's condition. They had water, they had eyes to see and ears to hear. They had what he needed even if the tiger knew nothing of it. They approached cautiously, none of them had ever spoken to a tiger.
This post has bugged me a lot the last couple days since I read it. And, I mean 'bugged' in a great way. It's got me thinking. Thanks for that.
ReplyDelete