The afternoon, however, proves radically different. Things immediately start well: Right after entering the park, we spot a jungle cat, one of the more uncommon cat species in this park. Notoriously shy, he waddles on down the road at a slight hustle when he sees us and eventually disappears into the high grass. Then another curious fellow appears, the nilgai, which is an antelope but looks more like what might result if a horse and a deer had a few too many cocktails one night on spring break. Where do all these odd animals come from?

Just a few minutes later, we glimpse one of the rarest sights in Pench: a rusty--spotted cat. Only slightly larger than a domestic cat, it darts across the road a few hundred feet in front of us. Saruth hits the gas to catch up, while our local guide says only one word: "Eagle." At first, the significance of that doesn't register with us. We've seen eagles. Big whoop. We continue to track the cat, but he insists: "Eagle," he says, pointing high above, into the trees. Then we realize what is happening. A crested hawk-eagle, a fierce bird of prey, is stalking the cat and is only moments away from pouncing on it with Discovery Channel brutality. Seconds later, he does just that.

He dives straight down, kamikaze-style, and ambushes the cat from above. Luckily, the knee-high grass blocks our view of the initial blow, but as we pull up alongside the kill zone, we see what likely is every bit as haunting. The eagle has a relentless grip on the cat's neck, and the cat is no longer moving. Through binoculars, we see the eagle's menacing, otherworldly eyes - full of sheer, unadulterated yellow terror - as it stares right at us in a motionless trance. I'm horrified yet fascinated.