 "Elephant safari")
We turn a dusty corner in an open Jeep when we see it. Its feathers outstretched, the male peacock is wriggling its rear with the aplomb of an exotic dancer. We stop, reverently take a dozen pictures and finally it allows us to move on.
At the next bend, there's another dancing peacock. And then another. "It's mating season in the jungle," says our driver. "Peacocks are dancing everywhere in Corbett these days… how many will you stop for?"
Dancing peacocks aside, there's something magical about being in a North Indian jungle in the summer. Bees hum, spotted doves squabble noisily over mates, langurs nurse their newborns and herds of elephant hike long distances with their calves nuzzling at their legs.
Dhela, the river next to the delightful Jim's Jungle Retreat where we're staying, is dry and its banks are devoid of their usual foliage. Only the curry trees are green and their delicately spicy scent fills the air as we walk past. On a morning walk with the camp's tracker Balam Singh, we spot the elusive brown fish owl, a quirky bird that looks as if it would be at home in Harry Potter's wizarding world. Given that it usually hunts in the evenings, we count ourselves lucky for having spotted it in the morning.
A Tiger spotted in the thicket
Grey and pied hornbills make gentle swoops over the dried riverbed of Dhela. We're so busy looking at them that we almost miss the tiger pugmarks in the sand, so sharp that they seem less than an hour old. We track them for a while, and I'm excited to be going to the Dhela zone of Corbett National Park that afternoon.
Opened only about a year ago as the sixth zone of the park for tourists, Dhela is home to tigers, bears, elephants, leopards and a variety of rare birds.
Elephant safari
Our well-informed guide, Manoj Sharma, points out masses of new saplings on the forest floor. "These are locally known as pilu and are believed to keeps their environs cool. Tigers love to lie under them when the sun gets too hot," he says. He also points out the many water holes that the forest department has created. "Elephants and the big cats beat the heat by immersing themselves here," he says.
The bushy plant cover ahead is perfect for spotting francolins and partridges. A khalij pheasant pops out of the foliage, much to my delight. Green and chestnut headed bee eaters flit amongst the trees as a hare watches them from its hiding place in the bushes below.
Langur baby with its mother
Much of the Lantana growth on either side of the road has been burnt off to widen fire corridors before the summer truly sets in. The afternoon heat has cast a haze over the jungle, and from its sooty depths, a shadow emerges.
It's a magnificent elephant, a female with a young calf nuzzling by her side. The rest of the herd comes into view, placidly nibbling at the grass but vigilant about the several young ones in their midst. One of them crosses the road, sees us and trumpets to the rest. They all stop in their tracks, having understood the message that there are interlopers in their midst. Warily, they cross our path, keeping their calves close.
The animals have good reason to be wary. In the last few months five tigers have been killed by poachers in Corbett National Park. And insensitive tourists heedless of jungle's rules are an ever-present threat.
We espy the same elephants again when we are on our way out of the jungle. They are headed towards a water hole tucked into the jungle. The calves squeal with joy as they flop into the water, as the adults spray themselves with water to cool down. The sun is setting and it's time to leave the jungle. "It's not easy to see tigers anymore," says my daughter sadly.
Without warning or any alarm calls from usually vigilant monkeys and spotted deer, a tiger emerges on the road, probably disturbed from his swim by the elephant herd. Muscles rippling under a splendid tawny coat, he crosses the path ahead of our Jeep in a series of breathtaking leaps. Before we've had time to draw a breath, he disappears into the jungle.
We wait a while, even though we know that he won't return. As we drive away from that spot, I look back one last time, and realise with a pang that the tracks of our Jeep have obliterated the tiger's footprints.
