Yala is the second largest national park in Sri Lanka, and its semi-arid landscape consists of vast expanses of open terrain carpeted with grasslands, shrubs, lagoons and sand dunes. The best time to visit is between February and July when the water levels are quite low, as this apparently brings the animals into the open.
Five minutes in, we caught sight of a plethora of peacock (they proliferate in abundance here, with no natural predators), storks wading in a lagoon, a crocodile basking at the water’s edge, an elephant in the far distance, and a water buffalo semi-submerged on this lazy afternoon.
Well, I guess we’re continuing on this safari until we accomplish our mission. Or till the park closes at 6pm, at least.
We encountered herds of spotted deer grazing as well as gray langur monkeys perched in trees who, as if on cue, turned their backs to our phones, signalling their distaste for the unwelcome intrusion of technology.
This is so diametrically opposed to the behaviour of their primate cousins in popular holiday destinations like Thailand, for instance, where the monkeys have notoriously skilled themselves in the non-verbal art of negotiating for, or outright thieving of, food as an egregious consequence of overtourism.
Now the presence of deers and monkeys, however, is not a good harbinger that a leopard sighting is imminent. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, said Sam. He explained how, in this delicate yet well-established ecosystem, such preys have (almost) perfectly honed instincts to detect if their would-be killers are in the vicinity.
Watching a David Attenborough documentary is one thing, but to see Darwin’s theory potentially play out in the flesh is something else altogether. It gives you a much deeper understanding of nature, and a greater appreciation and respect for the natural world. To this end, I was privately hoping we might be so lucky as to witness panthera pardus kotiya savagely secure its dinner this fateful day.
