The little deer is out on an adventure today. He did not mention to anyone that he was going to take a detour to reach the part of grassland where those of his species are afraid to go. He doesn’t exactly know the reason of their fear; all the idea he has of this dreary, solitary place, is sourced from what his mother tells him (which he thinks he doesn't believe), and a set of rumors his ears have caught from his friends and siblings.
The rumors, and his mother, say that on this side of the grassland live big tawny striped beasts with jaws sharper than anything and claws that can rip through any matter. To him, this is nothing more than fiction. In his herd, sometimes it has happened that some adult deer have gone missing, and at other times, he has found himself running deliriously with the fortification of elders for no reason, as if some monster has been behind them.
However, in the grassland he stands, he sees no such thing. There is a clear sky with some feathery clouds, and the wind is caressing the tall blades of dull grass that unrolls all the way up to infinity. There are some boulders, some short, thin trees … but definitely no beast.
Out of nowhere appears someone – and the little deer’s heart skips a beat. He falls on the ground, and then rolls under the weight of the creature that has darted at him. Regaining consciousness, he finds it is an uncle deer from his herd.
He is chastised back in his home for his mischief. The little deer is brought to tears. Before it is the time to sleep, his mother takes him aside, and repeats the tale. The place where you went is patrolled by big beasts. Don’t you see every other day someone out of us goes missing? We are food to those monsters. We run upon seeing those beasts because we know they are threat to our lives. And where you went is but their home! Thank your luck that they didn’t spot you. For us, an ideal day is when such beasts disappear and the grassland is all ours, in which we can roam and eat freely.
This is the first time the little deer has heard about tigers.
* * * * *
For our little cub, his father is his role model. His father is the one who arranges food daily which is mostly deer and zebras. He has seen his father prey sometimes – he is a virtuoso! He adroitly crawls in the cover of grass and when near enough, leaps onto a deer and clutches it by its neck. The deer fidgets for some time but then gives in to the hunter. His father then roards in triumph and they have food for another day.
His parents have never allowed him to accompany his father in this game and he is allowed to see it only from a set distance, sitting concealed behind the boulders. His mother says he still has to go through training. He has often heard some youngsters bragging to have passed this abrasive training. But listening about it lifts the little cub’s excitement even more. He can’t wait to grow up.
By the light of the moon, his mother tells him stories of their ancestors. She speaks of times when there used to be thousands of deer and zebras roaming the grassland, and even a little cub could easily go among them, bite on some little deer’s leg and drag him to the den.
But they are days bygone, she says. Over time, the animals we could make our prey dwindled and now there are bunches that can be counted on the fingers of our paws.
This always, always fascinates the young cub. When he cuddles with his mother and closes his eyes to sleep, he records dreams of grounds full of deer and zebras, where he can go hunting without any training, without permission.
Alas, for the little tiger cub, an ideal day is just a fancy dream.
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