Sept. 11, 2003
FREE STATE, South Africa — Attached to John Varty's right hand is the clunky black camera with which he's shot hundreds of hours of footage documenting two captive-born tiger cubs' education in the wilds of Africa. Attached to Varty's left hip is me.

"You're an extension of me, as far as she's concerned," Varty assures. "Stay close."

"She" is Julie, a mature Bengal tiger who's chuffing and leaning hard into me as she brushes by.

I should chuff back to her, Varty instructs. The wrong thing to do, I sense, is stand frozen.

"When she presses, push into her; stroke her hard," Varty says. "She'll perceive confidence."

My heart races like that of the hare bounding across a distant field. A pathetic attempt at a chuff emanates from my throat — the preferred placement for the tiger's signature suffocation bite. I watch my hand reach out to touch Julie's athletic haunches, wondering if it will come back to me, fingers and all. It's impossible not to give in to melodrama: Her raw power is palpable.

Julie's short, striped fur feels softer than I imagined — not at all prickly. Varty wonders out loud if the hairs might be hollow, like that of a polar bear, adding to Julie's buoyancy in the water. Unlike most cats, Bengals love the water and are incredibly adept swimmers — known to cover distances of several miles or more. Varty enjoys swimming with the cats in the river for exercise, but it's still early spring here and too cool for that.

Julie chuffs some more, revealing her good mood, and then sets off to hunt. Missing is Julie's sidekick, Ron.

"Where's brother?" Varty asks her.