Makala

Makala may still be living through a chapter that is nearing its end. He and Pantaneiro, uncle and nephew, have been spending an unusual amount of time together, something that stands out to people who know this part of the Pantanal well. Boatmen who work these waters, researchers with the Jaguar Identification Project, and others I spoke with all believe this kind of companionship may not last much longer. As the two mature, their need for space is likely to change.

Male jaguars can range across enormous areas. Studies in the Pantanal have recorded average home ranges of about 152 square kilometers during the rainy season and 171 during the dry season among monitored males. A home range is not the same thing as a defended territory, but those numbers give some sense of what may lie ahead when two males grow into adulthood while using neighboring areas. At some point, competition for space may force one of them to move on.

Knowing this changed the way I experienced the days I spent watching them. Makala and Pantaneiro shared prey, played and slept side by side. Nothing about their closeness seemed unusual. For them, it appeared to be simply part of life.

For us, though, there was always the knowledge that this life together might have an expiration date. Maturity could bring a separation neither animal understands in the way we do. Nature doesn’t owe us an explanation. When one of them eventually needs space of his own, their companionship may end, perhaps in a confrontation that sends one of them elsewhere.

Next year, I’ll return to Porto Jofre. I hope I find them together again, even knowing that hope belongs to the person watching. Nature doesn’t protect the relationships that move us. It doesn’t preserve a bond because we find it beautiful, or give us another chance to photograph it simply because we’d like to see it again.

For now, Makala is still with Pantaneiro. And perhaps that is what gives this photograph its weight: knowing that what seems so ordinary today may not be there tomorrow.