Your Safari moments are never quite over until you really are home. There are always surprises right until the very end.
There’s something about the last few minutes of a game drive that often lulls you into thinking the adventure is over. The cameras are packed away, jackets zipped up against the evening chill, and conversations begin to turn toward what might be waiting on the dinner menu back in camp. But the bush has a remarkable way of reminding you that it works entirely on its own schedule.
The other afternoon was one of those perfect examples.
We had spent the majority of the drive far west, searching for the Tsalala Lioness — an animal I personally had not seen in absolute ages. After a long search, we eventually found her finishing off a warthog kill beneath the fading afternoon light. It felt incredibly special to spend time with her again, and hopefully, there may be a very positive update on her story soon.
With that sighting under our belts, we began the slow journey back toward camp. The sky had already darkened after the fiery orange it turned after sunset, and we were no more than four minutes from home. Everyone in the vehicle had mentally concluded the safari. The conversation had shifted entirely toward dinner plans and recounting favourite moments from the afternoon.
Then, just as we rounded the corner near the sign pointing toward Pioneer Camp, a leopard looked straight back at us.
The spotlight had caught him at the exact moment he was scent-marking on the sign itself, his tail swishing slowly across the wood. He paused for only a second, staring directly toward us before darting behind the nearby dam wall. Even in that brief interaction, we could tell this was a young male leopard, and we suspect it may be the same individual we’ve intermittently seen mating with the Xinkhova Female.
Naturally, plans of dinner were forgotten instantly.
We quickly repositioned on top of the dam wall and shone the spotlight down below, where we could just make out his silhouette moving through the darkness. Suddenly, his posture changed entirely. His tail flattened low against the ground, and his body dropped into a crouch. Clearly, he had spotted something.
At first, we couldn’t see what had caught his attention.
Then he suddenly rushed forward into a bush, and out burst a porcupine, quills raised dramatically in defence. I think, fortunately for the leopard, he missed. A poorly timed strike there could have ended in a very painful lesson for a young male still learning the intricacies of hunting dangerous prey.
Already, seeing the porcupine felt like a rare enough treat. But the sighting was not done with us yet.
As we continued watching the porcupine retreat, the leopard once again dropped into stalking mode. In one explosive movement, he pounced beside it — and out shot a civet from the grass. The civet launched itself, what looked like over a metre into the air in pure panic. I had absolutely no idea they could jump that high.
And just like that, in one single frame, we had a young male leopard, a porcupine, and a civet all interacting in front of us.
It happened far too quickly for any of us to even think about reaching for a phone or camera. The only evidence left was one blurry image of the leopard walking away unrewarded. But somehow, that almost made it better. One of those completely chaotic, unscripted safari moments that exists only in memory.
Eventually, the leopard sauntered off into the darkness, rasping as he disappeared from view.
It was the perfect reminder that out here, a safari is never really over until you are truly home. The bush always seems to hold onto one final surprise.
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on Last Four Minutes of an Afternoon Drive