Patel edges us around a corner as animals scatter. A hulking, 240-kilogram tiger lollops through the undergrowth and stands quietly in front of us. He breathes slowly through a mouth of gleaming fangs and shakes the white ruff that frames his face. His extraordinary coat ripples as his muscles twitch underneath.

I have spent years travelling around Africa and Asia, and rarely have I teared up due to fear. But as the tiger approaches, and then silently turns and pads away, I find myself reaching for the tissues. I realise how dangerous it would have been we if we weren’t protected by our jeep.

From a human perspective, the cats feel very elusive, but they are actually living in highly claustrophobic conditions – and the rangers are doing a good job of keeping the irreversible tide of humanity outside the gates. But as tiger numbers grow, there is less space for them in the parks, and these highly territorial cats are being forced to enter human settlements, thereby putting themselves – and the villagers – in mortal danger.

Tiger poaching, Patel explains, is less of a problem now than it once was, but their skins and bones are still being smuggled to China and Vietnam. ‘In the end, it is the lack of space that is really affecting young adult males, as they have no territory to take over,’ he adds. ‘Adding corridors between the parks will solve this issue, but it is a major project to undertake as residents will need to be resettled.’

When it comes to the natural world, humanity hasn’t done much to be proud of. But my conversation with Patel over dinner in a park still ruled by tigers gives me some hope for the future. ‘Most of our visitors are Indian,’ the passionate conservationist notes. ‘They come expecting a zoo, but they are blown away by the beauty of the tigers and the jungle; this awareness is the best chance the tigers have.’