The Hunt for Stripes

The tiger lay in the middle of the jungle, relaxing on the moss covered ground. The dappled sunlight streams through the leaves high above, spreading small spots of sunlight across the leaf-strewn ground. The birds are chirping happy tunes, singing without a care in the world. The tiger is half-asleep, the late afternoon making her sleepy. The jungle is still, and no one is bothering her. She feels as if she could rest there forever. But, alas, nothing in the jungle stays quiet for long.

A gunshot sounds, far away. The tiger lifts her head, ears twitching to find the source of the sound. When everything goes quiet again, she lays her head down once more. Besides, the gunshot was too far off. No hunter would find her here.

A second gunshot goes off, much closer this time. She gets to her feet, now alerted. Another gunshot sounds, and she sees them. The hunters. There were two men, dressed in green camouflage. They were holding large rifles in their hands, shooting at anything that moved. 

The tiger saw them before they saw her. She stealthily backs away, trying not to make a sound or draw their attention. A twig snaps right under her back paw, a sound that echoes across the silent jungle floor.

The hunters are now alerted to her presence. They both turn, and spot the tiger standing by the base of a large tree. Their rifles turn towards her, and the tiger bounds off. The hunters pull their triggers, but she has already left. 

The hunters chase after the tiger as she bounds across the cool jungle floor. The hunters desire her coat of stripes, as so many do. The tiger will not give up her coat so easily.

She bounds off, lacing through the trees, slinking through the underbrush. The hunters chase her, though the underbrush slows them down. The tiger keeps running, for the hunters will keep coming after her. The underbrush won’t detain the hunters for long, so she must keep moving through the bushes, weaving through the trees, trying to lose them.

The hunters are fully aware of the tiger’s strategy. They also have a good guess on where she is going. They head off another way, in an attempt to fool the tiger.

Unfortunately for her, the tiger falls for the trick. She now believes that she is safe. She stops running, panting from the chase. Her ears twitch as she looks around, taking in her surroundings. She trots through the jungle, the leaves crackling underfoot. When she finds a small creek, hidden in shadows, she stops.

The creek is just over three inches deep. It is surrounded by tall grass, in the shadow of a tall tree. The creekbed is lively, small birds chirping in a harmonious choir all around. Small tadpoles swim up the shallow creek, and frogs are croaking from their hiding place in the grass. The sunlight barely reaches this part of the creek, so the ground is shady and cool, perfect for a nice nap. But the tiger had no time to take a nap. She paces around the small creek bed, searching. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she lets out a loud roar.

Suddenly everything goes silent. Nothing makes a sound, save for the wind rustling the leaves above and the grass below. Then, out of the underbrush, tumble two cubs. The first is the spitting image of her mother, except for her eyes, which were a radiant shade of emerald green. The second cub looks nothing like the other two tigers. He is snowy white, eyes as blue as the sky. As they emerge from the underbrush, they tackle one another as they fall at their mother’s paws. 

The mother is relieved to find that they are unharmed. The two cubs had gone off on their own to practice their hunting while their mother took a long deserved nap. The mother grooms her cubs’s fluffy heads, and they swat at her with their small paws in protest. 

Now that there were hunters in the jungle, they had to get to safety. The mother leads her cubs down a path, and they happily bound after her, tripping each other as they follow. Though the cubs continue playing, their mother is on high alert, for the hunters could be back at any minute. 

And just as she predicted, the hunters are back once again. They spring out of the underbrush, guns pointed towards the mother tiger. Knowing she must protect her cubs at all costs, the mother tiger springs at the hunters. She is willing to do anything to protect her cubs. The cubs now know that they are in immediate danger, so they back off and hide in the grass nearby.

As the tiger springs up, the hunters pull their triggers. The tiger yelps in pain, and turns away before she is able to land a blow. She runs towards her cubs, scooping the white one up by the scruff of his neck as his sister follows behind. They flee back down the path they came. The mother’s top priority is her cubs’s safety. 

They continue down the path, running as far as the mother can. Once she is at her limit, they settle down in a small clearing, the dappled sunlight streaming in through the leaves. The clearing is silent, a soft breeze rustling the leaves overhead. The mother drops her grip on her cub’s scruff, and he plops down on the ground. 

The mother lays down, and her cubs come and cuddle in close. Her breathing is hard and labored. As she lays there, she begins grooming her daughter’s coat with her sandpaper tongue. As she licks, she can feel the blood slowly draining from her body from the bullet wounds. At this point, there is nothing she can do to live. She lays there with her cubs, and stops grooming. She knows she is near the end. 

The mother lays her head down, laying fully outstretched on the cool ground. Her cubs cuddle closer, settling in for a nap. The tiger knows that once she falls asleep, she won’t wake again. But that is fine by her. Her cubs are strong hunters, and they would take care of each other. The hunters won’t come after them until they are much older. They still have the potential to live a good life before their time ends. They’ll just have to do it without their mother’s guidance.

She feels the life draining out of her body. Her breathing becomes less labored, and her heartbeat slows down. She closes her eyes, knowing that she’ll never wake up. Her cubs will have to learn the truth the hard way. This is what the world has come to, being killed by man for their own luxury. Animals with long lives ahead of them murdered for a coat of fur. 

The tiger takes her last breath, her life now gone. Her cubs sense that she has stopped breathing. They wake up, and try to wake their mother as well. But the mother will never wake up again. The cubs cry out in misery. They still had much to learn, but they would have to do that on their own. They hear the hunters approaching, loud footsteps crunching on leaves. They bound off, no longer able to stay at their mother’s side. 

As the hunters arrive at her body, they pick up her bloody form. They carry her off, so that when they return to their camp they may take her hide and sell it. Just for a pretty penny, they killed a magnificent creature. The tiger deserved to live longer, but the hunters had taken scissors and cut her thread of life. Now there is one less Bengal in the world. And that number keeps decreasing. Her cubs would one day meet the same fate as her. 

That is what the world has come to. Killing the most beautiful and magnificent creatures just so that someone can wear a small fraction of their body, while the rest is thrown aside. Their populations decrease, but the hunting doesn’t stop. The gunshots keep sounding, and more animals drop dead. One day, there will be no more Bengals. The existence of a tiger will be but a mere memory. That is not a world we want for our children, or the next generation. The tigers will become stuffed in a museum, displaying what was and what could have been if anyone decided they’d step up and help.

This is our future. Is it the kind of world you would want to live in?

The hunt for stripes is real. Step up and make a change.