The first thing we see is a herd of chital, a kind of spotted deer that is by far the most common animal in Indian parks. Now, I realize that flying all the way to India to go on safari to see an animal whose cousin can be found in headlights from Connecticut to California might seem silly, but there is one important caveat: Tigers feed on chital. Their warning call, a sort of high-pitched coo, is the first sign that a tiger is nearby. Within the first 15 minutes of the safari, we see about 100 chital. They are everywhere. "I have a feeling I'm going to get very sick of chital," I say to my friend. "I already am," he snaps.

We also start spotting wild boars, which Kartikeya enthusiastically points out. This is especially amusing to us, since wild boars pretty much roam free all over Indian cities. It's like going to a zoo in the States and gawking at pigeons. It's at this point, though, that things quickly get more interesting. Normally, I couldn't care less about birds, with the exception of ones that talk, but an Indian safari could make a birder out of anyone. We spot plum-headed parakeets, black-hooded orioles, and Tickell's blue flycatchers within the first few moments. We riffle through the field guide to find out what we're seeing. It's endlessly fascinating - I'm actually shocked at my own level of interest - but a tiger it ain't.

Then, just as I find myself contemplating membership in the American Birding Association, there's a sudden commotion in our jeep. "Tiger on the road!" is all I hear from Kartikeya as he steps on the accelerator. We're there in seconds, along with about six other jeeps lined up like paparazzi. We were alone only seconds before, and I do a double take to make sure it's actually a -tiger and not the future queen of England. "Some of the local guides carry cell phones, even though it's forbidden," Kartikeya later says in explanation of the surreal Us Weekly moment.