There was quite a gathering of safari jeeps around a waterhole in Ranthambore. A tiger had decided to cool off, and everyone was manoeuvring for the best view.
But while the jeeps were jostling for their ringside seats, I noticed something moving in the bushes.
Another tiger.
I stayed quiet and watched.
For about ten minutes, nobody else seemed to notice him. He appeared perfectly aware of me, tail up, giving an enormous yawn as if to say, “G’day, mate.”
It was one of those extraordinary moments when you feel you’ve been allowed into an animal’s world, rather than the other way around.
Eventually someone else spotted him, and all hell broke loose. Excited voices, cameras and safari jeeps suddenly competing for a better view.
The tiger seemed thoroughly unimpressed.
With what I imagined was a resigned nod in my direction, he wandered off towards the waterhole.
“Oh bugger, tourists. Better go and earn my keep.”
Soon there were two tigers cooling off in the water, providing exactly the spectacle everyone had come to see.
But I was looking at the whole scene, not just the tigers.
And that’s when I noticed the frogs.
There they were, perched all over the wet, striped back of one of the most powerful predators on the planet. Tiny little creatures apparently enjoying their own rather exclusive wildlife experience.
The tourists were watching the tigers.
I was watching the frogs.
I’d come to Ranthambore hoping to see wild tigers. Instead, I found myself sharing a quiet moment with one, then photographing the smallest creatures in the scene.
Sometimes the most extraordinary things are right under our noses.