Arrowhead the tigress, Ranthambore, India (Photo by Sachin Rai)

This week I learned of the death of Arrowhead, a tigress who had ruled the territory around the lake and old castle of Ranthambore for many years. She was the grand daughter of Machli, a tigress that I ‘met’ with her two cubs when I visited the reserve nearly twenty years ago. Of the animals I have been privileged to see, she was the most charismatic – the air seemed to have a different texture when she was present. It felt incomprehensible, extraordinary that such a creature walked the earth. It is even more incomprehensible to me that we are wiping them out.

The Tyger is often seen as a poem for children, but reading it as an adult is a different experience. See what you think.

The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame they fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of they heart?
And when they heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was they brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And water`d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame they fearful symmetry?

William Blake (1757 – 1827)