Death is food for her cubs. But I am safe. I am here, behind the mesh. She gets up, and stretches. Except for her enormous size, she might be a house cat stretching after a nice nap on the windowsill. She walks serenely by. I know that muscles ripple under her striped fur, but they do not show the power they must have as she strolls sedately to another spot. She is safe, too. She does not have to hunt for her meals. She does not risk having a jaw or tooth broken from the hoof of fleeing prey. For myself, the wire mesh is a trade-off. It interferes slightly with my view but keeps me safe. What does the tiger think of her trade-off? She is safe, but she will never hunt. Does she know? Does she care?

The keeper comes to feed the tigers in this enclosure. I can hear the boot steps,...

Then metal bars in a cave cut into the man-made hillside rise, and the tigers can go in to get a piece of meat. I am lucky; they bring it out into the sun to eat, but I realize that the zookeepers placed that food behind bars, and got to safety before allowing the cats to get it. The zookeepers see themselves as tiger food. I look at my tiger again: she must prefer food that moves, or the zookeepers would not be in danger.
A watch her eat. She eats with great energy, and I finally see those muscles against her beautiful fur. Eating is a physical event for her. Her casual power leaves me searching to see the wire mesh. Even in this setting, she is completely wild. The people who watch her are irrelevant. I admire the tiger, but she does not notice me.