Paw Prints in the Snow

by Sally Grindley

  ‘Don’t worry, my princess,’ said Peter. ‘The prints go off into the distance. That tiger has gone somewhere else for breakfast.’

  ‘I can’t believe a tiger passed that close to us and we didn’t see it,’ said Joe. He was thrilled at his find, but cross that he hadn’t been looking out of the window at the right time.

  ‘We’ll ask it to wear a bell around its neck next time, shall we?’ joked his father.

  ‘How can you stand there so calmly?’ Aesha demanded.

  ‘Don’t worry – it’s extremely rare for a tiger to attack a human,’ said Peter. ‘When it does happen, it’s usually because the tiger has been provoked, or because injury or illness have affected its normal behaviour. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I thought there was any danger.’

  He ushered Joe back indoors and helped him to stoke the furnace, while Aesha went back to bed.

  ‘Has that made your day?’ he asked Joe.

  Joe nodded. ‘Mum and Iona will be amazed when they find out. I hope the snow doesn’t melt before they get here.’

  ‘As soon as it’s properly light, we’ll take some photos as proof,’ Peter promised. ‘Something arty, I think. I shall do a series called “Tiger Dawn”. If I’m lucky, the trees behind us will throw stripy shadows among the paw prints when the sun breaks through.’

  ‘I’ll call mine “Paw Prints in the Snow”,’ said Joe. ‘And I’m going to stay up all night tonight in case the tiger comes back. This might be one of his favourite routes.’

  Peter set to work making breakfast, a hearty affair of a sort of porridge followed by cold meats, boiled eggs, cheese and black bread. Tempted by the smells, Aesha reappeared, still grumpy from being woken too early and still anxious about their close encounter with a tiger.

  ‘It’s what we came here for, isn’t it?’ said Joe.

  ‘I’m not fetching the logs tonight,’ she stated firmly.

  ‘You’re scarier than the tiger.’ Joe grinned at her, but she wasn’t to be placated.

  By the time Binti and Iona arrived in the middle of the morning, Joe and Peter had spent an hour or more wandering up and down the beach, following the trail of paw prints and taking photographs. Drawn by curiosity, Aesha had eventually joined them, though never straying too far from the cabin.

  ‘You can even see where the claws are,’ Joe said, delighted with his photographs.

  Iona confirmed that the prints had been made by a male tiger and she was as excited as Joe at seeing them. ‘If only he’d left some scat, we might have been able to identify him, but I suspect it was Misha. We’ve found evidence of him in this area before.’

  Iona took a number of photographs herself and measured some of the paw prints, then announced that on the way back to Lazo Village they would drive to two of the camera traps to check they were functioning properly.

  ‘More snow is forecast,’ she explained, ‘so I think it will be better for you to be in the village tonight rather than out here.’

  Joe couldn’t help but show his disappointment.

  ‘I think we’ve been incredibly lucky so far,’ Peter said, putting his arm around his shoulders. ‘We’ve seen more than anyone could have expected.’

  ‘I agree,’ added Iona, ‘and you never know what the camera traps might reveal.’

  Chapter 12

  They drove a long way that day, skirting the perimeter of part of the Lazovsky Nature Reserve and stopping occasionally for Iona to point out landmarks, or for Peter and Joe to take photographs. Joe was happy that they saw several deer and the tracks of a sable.

  ‘A sable is like a pine marten,’ Binti told him, ‘or a large ferret.’

  ‘There are lots in this part of the world,’ said Iona. ‘They used to be hunted in the wild for their fur, but now they’re farmed for it instead.’

  Aesha pulled a face. ‘They shouldn’t be farmed for their fur, either,’ she objected. ‘It’s sick.’

  ‘At least it protects the species that way,’ said Iona. ‘They might have died out otherwise.’

  At last, they came to the first camera trap. Iona was pleased that it was still securely tied to a tree. She sniffed one of the trees close by, which made Joe giggle.

  ‘Have a sniff if you want to know what tiger spray smells like.’ She grinned at him.

  ‘I can smell it from here,’ said Aesha.

  Joe bent down and inhaled. ‘Pwah!’ he cried. ‘It stinks! Will there be photos of the tiger that did that?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Iona. ‘It all depends on which direction it passed by, although the ground around the camera tree looks quite disturbed. That means it may have stayed here for a while.’

  ‘How does the camera work?’ asked Aesha.

  ‘It’s got an infrared sensor which detects body heat close by and which activates it,’ said Peter. He held his hand in front of the camera and it whirred into action.

  ‘This one is quite old and only takes still shots,’ said Iona. ‘Some of the newer ones take video footage.’ She opened up the camera and replaced the film.

  ‘Will we be able to watch you play it back?’ Joe asked.

  ‘We’ll be doing that tomorrow, so if you’ve got nothing better to do . . .’

  ‘Cool!’ said Joe.

  They piled back into the jeep and proceeded to the next trap, stopping on the way for a picnic lunch by a river. Once again, there were scent markings on trees surrounding the camera, but Iona discovered that it had been knocked and wasn’t working properly. She took it down and checked it over.

  ‘This happens sometimes,’ she said. ‘Animals can be quite aggressive with the strange boxes they find in their environment. We’ve got films where you can see a tiger butting the camera with its head or swiping it with its paw. I wonder how much we’ll find has been shot on this film before the damage was done.’

  It was already growing dark and the first snowflakes of the day were falling, so they returned to the jeep to begin the long drive back to the village.

  ‘Tonight we’ll eat in the café with some of the other workers, if that’s all right with you,’ Iona suggested. ‘They’d love to meet two English children and have lots of questions to ask.’

  Joe settled into his seat and watched the snowflakes dancing in the headlights. They were mesmerising, and as the evening closed in he found it difficult to stay awake. His mind played back the events of the day . . .

  A trail of paw prints led him through a deep dark forest, where countless eyes followed his every move and where there was nowhere to hide. A tiger loomed in the distance, walking slowly, inexorably towards him, a gentle swagger disguising its fearsome power. Joe was terrified and bewitched at the same time. He wanted to flee, but he was rooted to the spot. And then the tiger strode straight through him as though he didn’t exist.

  Chapter 13

  Joe really enjoyed the evening with the young vets and Nadia and the other fieldworkers. They wanted to know all about life in Britain; the weather, the food, football, school and, especially, the wildlife. They had heard that it rained all the time, that rich people lived in castles and that everybody kept cats and dogs. Joe and Aesha tried to put them right about a few things, but weren’t convinced they always made themselves understood – much to everyone’s amusement – even with Iona interpreting. Binti spoke about her local work in England as well as her international assignments, while Peter talked to them about some of the photographic projects he’d been involved in.

  Joe was fascinated to hear more about the vets’ work, and quickly realised that most of the time it involved sheer hard graft. It took hours of painstaking application and concentration to collect and analyse the data required to allow reasonable assumptions to be made both about the health of the tiger population and about the reserve as a whole.

  ‘Once we’ve drawn conclusions from one set of results, we start the whole process again,’ said Iona. ‘Nothing stands still because the next set of data might produce different results. And all the time what
we’re looking for is evidence that tiger numbers and prey numbers are stable – if not growing.’

  The young vets were impressed that, in the short time Joe and Aesha had been in Russia, they had already seen tiger tracks. It made Joe feel important, and he began to hope more and more that the film they had brought back from the camera trap would contain some good shots of tigers. He went to bed that night convinced that his tiger adventure had only just begun.

  The following afternoon, when they headed into the viewing room, Joe just couldn’t wait for the film to be downloaded.

  ‘It’s going to be so cool if there’s a tiger on there,’ he said to his mother, ‘especially if there are cubs as well.’

  Binti laughed. ‘If there are, I think we’d better leave you out here as a lucky mascot!’

  ‘What a good idea!’ said Peter. ‘No more smelly socks at home!’

  The first two images came up on-screen. They were frustratingly blank. Iona explained that the camera was deliberately aimed at the mid-chest height of an average tiger, but could be triggered by the body heat of a smaller animal that wouldn’t necessarily be within the camera’s photographic range.

  The next image was an indecipherable blur of dark brown.

  ‘I think that might have been a wild boar in a hurry!’ Iona chuckled.

  Three more blank shots were followed by a very clear side view of another wild boar – or the same one on its way back, Iona suggested. Next came pristine images of the boar’s snout, poised as though it were about to kiss the lens.

  ‘Yuck!’ said Aesha. ‘It looks all wet and slobbery.’

  ‘Don’t be so rude about the poor thing,’ Peter joshed.

  ‘It looks healthy enough, doesn’t it?’ said Iona. ‘And very interested to know if the camera is edible.’

  There were a few more blank frames and then a roe deer was caught in a sequence of shots, seemingly posing at first, before nibbling at the leaves on a bush. Finally, a foot appeared at the top of one of the frames. It was black with very long claws.

  ‘What’s that?’ squealed Joe excitedly.

  ‘Wait and see,’ said Iona.

  The next two frames were completely black. The third was crossed by a black furry arm and a fourth revealed an ear. At last, a fifth frame showed the animal in its entirety as it dropped to the ground. It was an Asiatic black bear.

  Joe couldn’t believe his eyes. There were five more frames, all of them starring the bear, which was standing in the clearing in front of the camera, eating a nut from the tree.

  ‘It’s so cute!’ said Joe.

  ‘It looks like a right monkey to me,’ said Peter.

  ‘Funny, ha, ha, Dad,’ said Aesha.

  ‘They’re not really very cute at all,’ said Iona. ‘There are quite a few bears in the reserve, and although they’re herbivores, they can be pretty aggressive to humans. But they love acorns and they love climbing, so they climb up and try to grab them before they all fall to the ground and before other animals get to them.’

  ‘The white stripe across its chest makes it look as if it’s wearing a T-shirt.’ Joe giggled.

  ‘Or a bra,’ said Aesha.

  There was nothing else on the film, but seeing the bear made up for any disappointment Joe might have felt about the absence of a tiger.

  Chapter 14

  Joe and Aesha were left to their own devices the next day as Binti went to work with the vets and Peter decided to accompany her. Iona assured their parents that the village was perfectly safe for them to explore, and that the Museum of Nature was well worth a visit.

  ‘We’ll be back some time in the afternoon,’ Binti said. ‘Don’t stray beyond the village, will you?’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Mum,’ scoffed Aesha. ‘We’re used to looking after ourselves and I’m perfectly happy to chill for a day.’

  Joe was keen to have a look at the exhibition of tiger paintings and the butterfly collection Iona had mentioned. He didn’t want to go on his own, though. After some persuasion, Aesha agreed to accompany him, but as soon as they had seen all the exhibits she declared that she was tired and was going back to their room for a nap.

  Joe decided it was a good opportunity to take some photographs since there would be nobody to hurry him on and he could spend time creating arty shots. I’ll surprise Dad with them, he thought as he collected his camera and set off along the village streets.

  Iona had told them that most of the villagers were farmers or hunters. Local children stared at him curiously or waved at him as he walked by, which made him feel very self-conscious, as though there were something different about the way he looked. He would have liked to take their photographs, but didn’t dare in case he upset them. Instead, he took photographs of the park headquarters, the ferry, the old bus, the houses, the shops, the café and the museum.

  As Joe was walking along one of the streets leading away from the village centre, he thought he saw a raccoon dog a little way ahead of him.

  Wow! he said to himself. Dad will definitely be impressed if I come back with a photo of a raccoon dog!

  He hurried after it. The animal began to run and Joe found it difficult to keep up on the slippery pavement. When he lost sight of it, he followed the tracks it had left in the snow. There were fewer and fewer houses now and the tracks were heading towards the forest.

  That’s so frustrating, Joe thought. I was so close!

  He stopped and prepared to turn back.

  It was probably only an ordinary dog anyway, he told himself.

  Its legs had seemed a little too long for a raccoon dog, if he was honest. And snow was beginning to fall again, the sky thick and darkening.

  Joe packed his camera into its case. At that very moment he heard an almost imperceptible, low growling noise coming from a dilapidated building set back from the road and apart from the nearest house.

  Has the animal somehow found its way there? Joe wondered.

  He decided to have one last attempt at photographing it.

  If I were Dad, he said to himself, I wouldn’t let an opportunity like this go.

  He crept slowly over to the building, straining his ears for any noise that would give away the animal’s position. The building looked unoccupied. With no further sounds to guide him, Joe approached the front, then stood and listened. There was silence apart from the rumble of a passing truck. He began to edge his way around to the back and was convinced he heard a slight scuffling. The ground to the rear sloped away quite steeply and Joe saw that there was a sort of basement to the building. Its entrance was marked by a crooked wooden door at the bottom of a steep flight of steps. Joe shivered in the gathering gloom, a wave of anxiety passing through him.

  It’s getting late. I really should return to the park headquarters.

  He made up his mind to leave, but another, rather pathetic growl stopped him. It was coming from inside the basement, and whatever was making it seemed to be in trouble.

  Joe went to the top of the steps, his heart beating fast. A small dog, even a raccoon dog, was nothing to be scared of, he reasoned. As the son of a vet, he would never be able to forgive himself for abandoning an injured animal. He would check that it was all right, then go home.

  He put his foot on the first step, slipped on the ice and fell.

  To his own ears, the scream Joe let out was loud enough to alert everyone in the village. He landed with a sickening thud in the courtyard in front of the basement door, his right leg twisted underneath him. He attempted to stand up, but couldn’t. It was impossible – the pain was excruciating. As he tried to shift into a more comfortable position, it dawned on him that his leg might be broken.

  Nobody knows where I am! The thought struck him like a hammer blow.

  He called out for help, but his voice seemed thin and muffled by the falling snow. He pulled his coat tighter round him, glad that Binti had insisted they buy the thickest quilting on the market, whether or not Aesha complained about resembling a beluga whale in it.


  Aesha will come and look for me, won’t she? he thought. She’ll worry that I’ve been away for so long. Or is she fast asleep? Mum and Dad will finish work and be worried when they find I’m not back.

  Joe heard a growl, louder and more persistent than before. He hoped that whatever it was couldn’t get out of the basement. He didn’t want to be licked or slobbered over by a strange animal. And what if it bit him? What if the animal behind the door wasn’t the small animal he had been following, but something bigger, perhaps one of the larger dogs he had seen wandering the village streets?

  The pain became so intense that Joe started to feel light-headed. He knew he needed to stay awake, though, so he concentrated on calling out over and over again. He could hear cars passing once in a while, but no other sounds of human life.

  He began to be scared that he might not be found for hours. What then? Even in his thick coat he would surely begin to suffer from the cold. He forced himself to think of everything they had done since they had been in Russia, every tiny detail, just to keep from falling asleep. He thought about the tiger tracks in the snow, the bear in the tree, the picnic by the waterfall, the day with the sniffer dogs and the way he had mistaken Artem Klopov for a smuggler. So much had happened in such a short space of time, and now his adventure had come to a disastrous end.

  Chapter 15

  Joe had no idea how long he lay there, the darkness closing in, the snow falling steadily. He was terrified that his tracks would be wiped out completely and that there would be no trace left of his last movements. He drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain eating away at his resolve to stay awake and the cold beginning to gnaw at both legs.

  There had been no further sound from the animal in the basement. Joe wondered if it was still there, or whether it had managed to find a way out. When he heard a dog barking not too far away, he was convinced that the animal had made its escape from somewhere at the front of the building.

  Joe thought about Foggy and wondered if he was still safely tucked up at Waggy Tails. He wanted to be with him now, lying alongside him, Foggy keeping him warm, licking his hand to keep him awake, protecting him from danger, barking frantically to alert his owners to their son’s whereabouts.