A fox was exposed to the sun and stood out on the ridge, far away from us. Was it returning from the hunt? The moment I shifted my gaze, it disappeared. I never saw it again. Lesson one: Beasts appear without giving any signs and then vanish without leaving us the slightest hope of finding them again. One must perceive the fleeting sight of them as a blessing and honor it as a sacred offering. If something happens, that will be a reward. If nothing happens, we will vacate the spot, determined to try again the next day. So, if the beast appears, we will celebrate. Welcoming this companion, whose presence is certain, but whose visit is uncertain. The wait is a humble faith.
“I had met Vincent Munier one Easter, after the screening of his film about the wolf of Abyssinia. He spoke to me about how elusive the beasts are and about this supreme virtue: patience. He narrated his life as a photographer of wild beasts and outlined the techniques for waiting. It was a fragile and discreet art, consisting of camouflaging oneself in nature to watch an animal, whose arrival nothing guarantees. The odds of returning empty-handed are high. This acceptance of uncertainty seemed very aristocratic to me – and as such purely non-modern.
“‘Leopard,’ the name sounded like a gem. Nothing guaranteed a meeting with it. Waiting is a gamble: In going to meet wild animals, you risk failure. Some are not put off and find joy in the wait. This requires a philosophical spirit with a tendency towards hope. Unfortunately, I was not that kind of person. I wanted to see the beast, although, out of courtesy, I did not confess my impatience to Munier.”
