It was early one morning in June when we first heard about the sacred tiger dance. We were enjoying morning tea on the verandah when a reference in the long-hidden journals of Dr. William Moorcraft caught our collective eyes. It occurs only once every decade in the wilds of India (code for: Strybing Arboretum and Botanical Gardens). We immediately decided to cast off civilization to find the hidden location and document what could only be the most stunning and spiritually transcendant of tiger dances; possibly the most amazing ritual performed by any of the large cats! Caroliney Pants, top agent for Sir Conor Fahey, was put in charge of arrangements for this perilous expedition. Moorcraft made it clear that any human caught near the sacred grove at any time was likely to be eaten, but on the night of the dance being eaten would be a welcome relief to the gruesome tortures of uninvited guests. Therefore, we needed the most experienced of trackers and guides in the Himalayas.

We spent three weeks trekking through the bitter cold of mountain passes before locating the forgotten Valley of the Tigers. Within the valley a jungle of rare plants thrives, untouched by the snows and winds that rage outside. We applied special "tiger scent" to our clothing and armpits to avoid detection by the crack noses of the illegal human detection squad which patrols the valley.

We stopped for a lovely afternoon tea at a little cafe overlooking a babbling brook, and then suited up for our night's dangerous task.

In order to infiltrate the sacred grove we tunneled sixty metres through the soil. Our tunnel was spot-on. We emerged in view of the celebration, yet obscured by fortuitous flora. We witnessed a mesmerizing ballet not meant for human eyes. There were tigers swinging acrobatically from vines and frolicking in the nude. Some were drinking what appeared to be wine spritzer while others snacked on tiny cheeses wrapped in prosciutto. We won't even get into the floorshow, water ballet, etcetera. A single, massive white tiger, easily 10 metres in length kept to the background, watching the ritual with a facial expression that we afterwards could only describe as contented satisfaction. After a few discreet snaps we allowed ourselves to bask in the radiant glow of this once in a lifetime event for a few more glorious seconds before turning back. Just as we reached the tunnel opening a group a six tigers leaped from behind a wall of shrubbery, an ambush! We lost all of our guides (and our legs as well) to the tigers. Fortunately, we had packed decoy legs which we used to distract them, and were able to make it out alive.

On the way we back we stopped for a savory treat at the In-N-Out Burger where we enjoyed lemonade but were sadly dissapointed in our request for scones and clotted cream.