what does the line "narrow path twisted its way down" ???
( story : no room for a leopard)
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Answer:
A narrow path twisted its way down through the trees, over an open ridge where ... The leopard, like other members of the cat family, is nearing extinction in ...
Answer:he author forged an unlikely friendship with a big cat—but did it come at a price?
RUSKIN BONDUpdated: Oct 16, 2019 19:29:35 IST
The LeopardIllustration by Titas Panda
I first saw the leopard when I was crossing the small stream at the bottom of the hill. The ravine was so deep that for most of the day it remained in shadow. This encouraged many birds and animals to emerge from cover during the hours of daylight. Few people ever passed that way. As a result, the ravine had become a little haven of wildlife, one of the few natural sanctuaries left near Mussoorie. Below my cottage was a forest of oak and maple and Himalayan rhododendron. A narrow path twisted its way down through the trees, over an open ridge where red sorrel grew wild, and then down steeply through a tangle of wild raspberries, creeping vines and the slender ringal bamboo. At the bottom of the hill, the path led on to a grassy verge, surrounded by wild dog roses. The stream ran close by the verge, tumbling over smooth pebbles, over rocks worn yellow with age, on its way to the plains and to the little Song river and finally to the sacred Ganga.
It was early April and the wild roses were flowering. There were still yellow and blue primroses on the hill slopes, saxifrage growing in the rocks, and an occasional late-flowering rhododendron providing a splash of crimson against the dark green of the hill.
I walked down to the stream almost every day, after two or three hours of writing. I had lived in the cities far too long, and had returned to the hills to renew myself, to get rid of some of the surplus flesh that had gathered about my waist and to write a novel.
Nearly every morning, and sometimes during the day, I heard the cry of the barking deer. And in the evening, walking through the forest, I disturbed parties of khaleej pheasant. The birds went gliding down the ravine on open, motionless wings. I saw pine martens and a handsome red fox; I recognized the footprints of a bear.
As I had not come to take anything from the jungle, the birds and animals soon grew accustomed to my face. Or possibly they recognized my footsteps. After some time, my approach did not disturb them. A spotted forktail, which at first used to fly away, now remained perched on a boulder in the middle of the stream while I got across it. The forktail’s plumage blended with the rocks and running water, so that the bird was difficult to spot at a distance, but the white ‘Cross of St Andrew’ across its back eventually gave it away, its sharp, creaky call following me up the hillside.
The langurs in the oak and rhododendron trees, who would at first go leaping through the branches at my approach, now watched me with curiosity as they munched the tender green shoots of the oak. The young ones scuffled and wrestled like boys, while their parents groomed each other’s coats, stretching themselves out on the sunlit hillside. But one evening, as I passed, I heard them chattering in the trees, and I was not the cause of their excitement.
As I crossed the stream and began climbing the hill, the grunting and chattering increased, as though the langurs were trying to warn me of some hidden danger. A shower of pebbles came rattling down the steep hillside, and I looked up to see a sinewy orange-gold leopard poised on a rock about 20 feet above me.
It was not looking towards me, but had its head thrust attentively forward in the direction of the ravine. It must have sensed my presence, though, because slowly it turned its head to look down at me. It seemed a little puzzled at my presence there; when, to give myself courage, I clapped my hands sharply, the leopard sprang away into the thickets, making no sound as it melted into the shadows.
I had disturbed the animal in its quest for food. But a little later I heard the cry of a barking deer as it fled through the forest; the hunt was still on.
The leopard, like other members of the cat family, is nearing extinction in India, and I was surprised to find one so close to Mussoorie. Probably deforestation had driven the deer into this green valley; the leopard, naturally, had followed.
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