“Morgan, she’s moving. Morgan…careful- Look out!” Melissa pulled me back as the tiger began to lurch forward. There was a metal fencing between myself and Princess, the tiger of which I had been taking a video of, but the danger was still very real and she knew it just as well as I did. Melissa was my “buddy” at the exotic animal sanctuary, part of a system to keep us safe from lapses in judgement just like this.

I had been taking a very cute video of the tiger who was posing in her pool much like she was in a spa, content and adorable as a kitten. But it had become something of a trap meant to lure us in. Princess was a very active tiger compared to the thirty others here on this sanctuary in the middle of Texas. She was known for giving keepers and her unfortunate roommate-Prince- trouble due to her aggression and calculating pursuance. In this instance and every other, as I came to understand, the onslaught of danger came silently.

One may think that I probably would have been fine, but I consider this instance a brush with death none-the-less. Tigers are beautiful yet deadly, both of which make them awe-inspiring. Despite the barrier between us, a tiger can still wedge its arm between the links and tear me limb-from-limb in seconds if given the desire and opportunity.

Princess was likely toying with us, getting a kick out of our reactions more than actually wanting to eat us, but I’d hate to see what would have happened if I called her on that bluff. It is why you should still stay away from the fencing at even the best of zoos. Comparing a tiger to us is like comparing a cat to a mouse. They are designed for the hunt and we can never anticipate our vulnerabilities like they can.

And yet I loved her none-the-less…

An interesting fact about those who work with wild animals- we’re all a little crazy. You have to be in order to care properly for creatures that could kill you at the drop of a dime- and unpredictably at that. It’s a strange love that we have for something dangerous- almost toxic. Part of our training on the sanctuary was to know, if a large carnivore ever got out and the decision was down to us, to make the kill shot.

Even if these animals have been raised by humans (several there had) and they may love you, they can and will likely kill you. It’s a hard pill to swallow when you see these tigers acting like your house cat at home- playing in boxes, rolling about, and chuffing (the large cat equivalent to purring) at you. But being able to accept this fact is what separates the short-sighted from the experienced. An interesting list that my coworkers and I made whilst working at our sanctuary was categorizing the animals by what they would do to us if they got out. We decided that they would show no interest in us and try to escape the secondary fence we have established as a fail-safe, be excited to see us and accidentally destroy us while playing, or immediately go for the kill. We had quite a few in the last category.

That didn’t stop us from cooing at them like little babies everyday. We loved them to death. I died a little inside when one of the three sibling tigers I loved most, Akbar, died of lung cancer. Because they knew I loved them, I was allowed to be there when they euthanized him. I remember strongly the feeling of his fur on my fingers as I brushed him after he passed. It was so lush yet coarse and yet my hand hesitated as I reached out. I felt the fear in me when they had opened the door dividing us even when I knew he couldn’t even try to harm me if he wanted to- and he never was the kind to want that. I still very much understood the difference between us- how he was a predator and I was a prey.