There are moments in life when Fortune knocks on your door and you must drop everything and run to its call. And that was exactly what I did when I was told that there was an opening for me to shoot the Amur tiger from a blind in Cedar Valley. So far the Amur tiger has never come to a lure (it was thought impossible to lure it at all) and only a handful of photographers were granted the chance to film this particular one. There was even a chance the tiger would come during daytime.

The decision was made instantly and after arranging a leave from work and buying some required equipment I began my journey across entire Russia. Did the thought of being alone with the tiger for almost a week strike fear into my heart? I'm not going to lie, on the eve of my departure I was nervous. But that feeling went right out the window as soon as I parked myself in my seat on the airplane. There was no turning back and all unease faded away. I was completely focused on my goal.

At the "Land of the leopard" National Park I signed several safety instructions. One of them contained a priceless and fatalistic article that recommended never to run from a tiger or a leopard because they run faster than you. All of my belongings were mounted on a quad bike with an open trailer for the deer carcass and I was off to meet my fait.

Shooting from a blind requires certain knowledge as well as a certain type of temperament. Some animals do not care about human presence at all (as was the case with wolves and saiga in "Stepnoy" Reserve). Others won't tolerate even the slightest sound (like the Pallas cat kittens in Mongolia). Despite their ability to strike the fear of God into the hearts of men the tiger and the leopard demanded revered silence. The worst part about all of this was not just messing it up for yourself and not getting your shot, but scaring off the animals for those photographers who would be working there after you. Not cool at all. But by then I had already gained a lot of experience in working blinds so that wasn't the hard part.

The blind turned out to have decent living conditions and in five days I settled in pretty cozily. I had a biotoilet, a gas burner, a supply of snack food and a very cozy sleeping bag. Naturally, there was no electricity, but any photographer worth their salt hoards batteries like a soldier does with bullets.

My schedule was simple. At 11 AM I used my walkie talkie to report back to base and in the evening the game warden would visit me to check in on me and bring me some hot soup. Aside from that I was completely alone. I am not a very social person, so lack of human presence was not something I was bothered by. But to be confined in a small space you could cross in four large paces, constantly waiting for your precious guest to arrive? Yeah, that did play a trick on me after a few days.

From dusk till dawn (and that's 12 hours, by the way) I kept my watchful eye on the unfamiliar forest. Night was when the fun started. Turned out it was impossible to hear the leopard's arrival. The beast moved with perfect stealth and I developed an ear infection which handicapped me for at least a day (I had medicine to cure it, but time was lost). the first time I heard some rustling I got up and grabbed the night vision goggles. The deer laid out as a lure was untouched. I went back into my sleeping bag but after about 20 minutes I got up, my heart filled with the darkest suspicions. I grabbed the goggles once more and what do you know, there was a chunk of meat missing out of the deer's leg. I missed my shot with the leopard that night so I set up a new schedule for myself. I set my alarm clock to go off every hour and I would spend my time listening to the sounds of the night. If I were to pass out my buzzing phone would jump start me again in 30-40 minutes. The jetlag and the solitary confinement in this deep woods Alcatras were topped off by sleep deprivation.

I had no luck the second night either. This particular blind had one serious downside. There was no place to set up a tripod which is absolutely essential for nighttime photography. The best I could do was find a place to rest my lens on but that wasn't good enough, the camera had trouble keeping focus. The one time I did see the leopard he didn't even stay for 15 minutes. He didn't return the following days or nights.

She arrived instead. She stomped her feet, huffed and puffed and chewed so loudly that soon I learned to recognize her arrival by those sounds. The tiger that captivated me so turned out to be a chubby two year old tigress who had  just barely left her mom to hit it off on her own. The girl was lucky enough to find an easy source of fresh meat and she was not shy about punching that meal ticket. The tiger was no longer an abstract striped demon prowling the dark wilderness. It was still massive and dangerous, but it was basically a kitten. This wasn't the first time when I noticed the uncanny resemblance between our fluffy domestic tyrants and their large wild brethren. Strange how a wild tiger is so different from ones in the zoo but has so much in common with a domestic cat.

For her adolescent clumsiness and childish directness the tigress was quickly nicknamed "Kulioma" which is a Russian unoffensive word for a clutz. I observed her as she ripped out fur from the useless remains of a previous lure just for kicks, because cats love to rip out fur and feathers for fun. She chased the dull light of the flashlight I used to help my camera focus in the dark (this method was approved and recommended by Park staff). She startled herself by imagining dangers. And she tried each and every way to steal my deer carcass. Often I couldn't help but smile at her antics, this fuzzy butterball was so cute and funny.

Kulioma was not in the least bit afraid, but her behavior was sensible enough not to present any danger for me, even though I was separated from this sweet giant kitten by only a flimsy door and very thin walls with six giant holes in them (openings for camera lenses I had to stuff rolled up T-shirts in to stop the wind). The only means of self-defense I had was a single signal torch, because, come on, the life of an endangered animal is far more precious than that of a dumb photographer who chose to neglect all warnings and common sense! The tigress remained with me for hours on end, sometimes walking off but always returning for more venison. Still, I only managed to get images on the final night. Kulioma had decided that she doesn't like the flashlight after all, however, a series of blinding camera flashes didn't bother her at all. I had to remember everithing I learned while shooting bats in the night jungles of Costa Rica.

In daylight I focused on the deer in the spot the cat was concentrating most on and switched mu focus to manual. Then in complete darkness I had to fire off shots, in essence, blindly and from a hand-held camera. While shooting in this manner it doesn't matter how still you are, the camera will still stray from where you originally focused it on and that's why you need the tripod. Every few shots I took were only necessary to correct my aim. I was eternally grateful to my model for her patience and I almost cried in relief when I finally saw acceptable images on my camera screen. All the efforts, all the resources invested in this expedition hadn't been wasted in vain!

Sure, you could criticize the reflection in her eyes, but sometimes a wildlife photographer has to take what they can and thank Mother Nature for it. In this case she granted me an absolutely unique opportunity. Upon my return from this trip I learned that some men who tried to film there couldn't cope with the conditions and the pressure. And I turned out to be the first female photographer to shoot a wild Amur tiger from a blind.

It was my most difficult shoot, a trial for me as a photographer and as a person and I not only came back from this adventure, but I came back with images.

I sincerely hope that the National Park will appreciate this unique tigress and will allow photographers to observe her throughout her lifetime. I would love to return there to see Kulioma all grown up and try to capture more esthetic images of her. But for now I will cherish the memories of a huge, fuzzy and chubby kitten trying her best to steal my deer.

I would like to extend my most heartfelt gratitude to my family for their unconditional support. To Valery Maleev for this photography opportunity and to all the nice people who worked with me on this trip and who put so much efforts into luring this tiger and setting up a place where we can observe this truly unique creature. And, of course, to Kulioma!