I’ve been waiting a long time to write this one. Certain sightings feel less like an encounter and more like a moment you’ve been waiting for without realising it.
This was one of those.
A confident and curious young leopard, that is nearing independence after a remarkable start to life alongside her resilient mother.
Not because the Tinxiya Female hasn’t been around, she has, but because there was a sighting that finally felt like the beginning of her story rather than just the introduction.
We found the Tinxiya Female along the Maxabene River early one morning. The sun had come bursting through the clouds, and we were in for a long, hot track. Following alarm calls that kept leapfrogging ahead of us, we knew she was on the move. So we kept searching, like her: moving but not hurried. Stopping. Listening. Around the corner we came, and there she was: in a jackalberry, high in the branches.
Then, without much ceremony, she climbed down.
And up again. Then across the riverbed, and up another tree. Down. Up.
It went on like this for some time. She must have climbed not less than 4 separate trees in less than 20 minutes. I could only chalk it up to youthful exploration. But there felt like this time there was something more. Purpose. The kind that tells you a leopard is no longer just passing through a place, but owning it. Making quiet assessments along the way.
Then she climbed into a strangler fig. A first for me!
Strangler figs are chaotic things. Roots braided around empty space, trunks full of hollows and shadows. They look as though they’ve grown by accident, yet they endure for centuries. I’ve long dreamed of seeing a leopard in this particual one, it feels like the sort of tree that should hold many secrets.
She moved through it effortlessly. Slipping between roots, pausing where the light fractured across her coat, sleeping draped in the branches. A sighting that felt less like the South African Lowveld and more like the lower Zambezi!
A young female stepping forward
Over the last few months, the Tinxiya Female has changed. And that, I think, says a lot about where she is in her life.
There’s a confidence to her now that wasn’t there before. We’ve seen her scent-marking regularly. We’ve heard her calling, too. These are not the behaviours of an independent youngster. They’re the signals of a leopard beginning to announce herself.
Her mother, the Three Rivers Female, has also shifted. Having recently been seen mating with the Maxims Male, she has clearly entered the next phase of her own story. When a dominant female does this, something else usually happens quietly alongside it: space is made.
Not abandoned. Not surrendered. But created. And daughters step into it.
Forced into early independence at 11 months. Despite her small size, she's proven resilient, currently raising a cub in SE Londolozi.
Looking ahead to 2026
We’ve been fortunate with the Tinxiya Female in 2025. Unbelievably so. Almost daily sightings, we’ve seen her play, we’ve seen her grow, and we’ve seen her first kill. And 2026 promises to be more of that and more.
Here, they paused for a moment, looking around in the surrounding clearings for their next target to hunt. The Young Female was almost copying her mother’s every move.
The Three Rivers Young Female carries her hard-earned meal to a different thicket for safekeeping
She is nearing the age at which females typically come into oestrus for the first time (24-36 months). With her mother no longer exerting the same influence over the territory, this will likely take place sometime soon. Often, only when a female has established herself fully over a territory will she give birth (closer to the 4-year mark).
Dominant since 2019. Once skittish Kruger-born giant now rules vast territory, transforming from elusive presence to formidable force.
This, however, naturally raises the question around the Maxim’s Male, who is not only still dominant in the area but also her father. With leopard dynamics, these situations are not uncommon. Females can possibly delay oestrus while a related male remains dominant, or simply avoid mating during his presence. Over time, territorial dynamics shift, and a new male will arrive. Having said this, it’s not uncommon, nor is it problematic for inbreeding to occur for a single generation within the population. More than this it may begin to present some issues.
Becoming, not arriving
That sighting in the strangler fig stays with me because it wasn’t dramatic. There was no kill. No confrontation. No moment designed to impress. Just a young female moving up and down trees, feeling her way through a riverbed she knows she’ll return to.
Some stories don’t begin with a roar. They begin with quiet confidence.And the Tinxiya female, it seems, is right on schedule.
What a lovely blog, Reagan. It speaks of your wonder, respect and sincere love for these beautiful quiet moments in the bush where an, perhaps undramtic, insight into a moment of an animal’s life becomes an unforgettable moment in time.
Thank you for sharing. Can’t wait for my April visit.