Episode 9 – Udawalawa National Park

An Unexpected Meeting

In my lengthy career in the Wildlife service spanning more than two decades, I have served across many divisions throughout the country,spanningregions in Thanamalwila, Handapanagala, Nuwara-Eliya, Adam’s Peak, etc. I started as a Wildlife Guard in 1996, and later was promoted to the rank of Ranger.In 2016, I received a placement toUdawalawe National Park, which is one of Sri Lanka’s distinguished National Parks and the closest one from Sri Lanka’s prominent metropolis, Colombo.

Udawalawe National Park is renowned for its rich biodiversity.With large herds of roamingelephants,throngs of deer frolickingaround and about, lively birds sporting vibrant plumage obviouseverywhere you look, and even the lucky glimpse of a jungle cat going about its business – Udawalaweisan enticing destination for locals and tourists alike. Even for thoseintricately familiar with the park and all its residents, however, there remains a creature which bears the undisputed title for being the most elusive of them all – the Sri Lankan leopard.

Every New Year’s Eve, I head home and return the following New Year’s Day, but on December 31^st, 2016, I decidedto stay later than usual courtesy of anunfinished workload.When I was finally departing for home, it was during the closing hours – when all the visitors leave the premises. I heard the familiar rumble of a 4×4 engine behind me. I turned to see if I could hitch a ride to town, but it was already full.Suddenly, the cheerful faces of the crowd turned pale in sheer horror,and some started to frantically shout and gesture towards me. I turned around to check the reason for this sudden douse in spirit and froze.

A leopard, so close that its distinct, rank odor filled my nostrils. So close enough, I could reach it with my foot if I leaned just a hairs-length forward, not that I was in a state of mind to test this theory. So dreadfully close with its fierce eyes narrowed and its form crouched in position ready to attack the moment it sensed I was a threat. And there I stood, unblinking and unflinching, not because of some sudden dose of courage but because I was too terror-stricken to think or recall even the basic of human motor functions. It glared at me, daring me to move, to display even the slightest hint of hostility. Fortunately, I didn’t.And then, in a blink, it turned and disappeared into the dense thicket of the forest.I exhaled for probably the longest time I’ve done so in my entire life. Relief flooded in with each fresh gulp of oxygen. Feeling returned to my numb, rooted legs so fast that an unwary observer would think I had been electrocuted due to the sudden wobbling and shaking. In blessed relief I turned around. And froze again.

A leopard! Yes, another one. A large, dangerous feline standing so close that I am sure I could count thespots pockmarking its face.The perfect mirrored facsimile of its predecessor braced and ready topounce the moment it sensed danger. And all the bloodpumping in my veins seemed to freeze in place, again. This time, I feared the beast would actuallybe able to hear my poor beating heart, working harder that it has ever had to, desperately trying to stimulate and revive – again – the motor function in my body which seemed to be more dead than a doorknob. I stood there, my gaze transfixed at the predator, oblivious to the world around me. And then, without a moment’s hesitation, it turned and disappeared into the same path as done by its precedingbrethren. Feeling returned to me so fast and in such force,it threatened to toppleme over. As I stood, holding both shaky kneeswith my cold, numb handsand salivating every fresh gulp of air my lungs demanded, I noticed the return of chatter with sighs of relief. It was thenthat my thoughts returned to the crowd.

Maybe they had been scared to shout throughout the whole unexpected encounter, or maybe they did shout but I was too scared to notice, that I had blocked them out. Nevertheless, I thanked them for their timely warning, and we said our goodbyes. A fewminutes later, I was able to gather my thoughts properly to logically assess the whole situation. Despite the Sri Lankanleopard’sreputation of a ruthless predator, I remember that leopard attacks on humans were incredibly and extremely rare. Not that this fragment of information would have been any help to me during the whole ordeal, but for what it’s worth, both the patrons and I had an interesting tale to tell. We had seen not one, but two leopards in the wild!