Although it was a brief loop onto Londolozi, my guests and I watched this impressive male scent mark before he returned westwards.

The last time I saw the Mashaba Female, her face told a story. The infamous Mashaba Female — the leopard I have countless memories of, from my early days as a trainee ranger through to her later years. Her lineage is the one I have watched grow most over the years, from both her daughters, the Nkoveni Female and Ximungwe Female, and their various offspring. Her legacy certainly lives on.

The Nweti Male was briefly chased off by a large bull elephant as he and the Mashaba Female finished off the remains of their kill. Sadly, both of these leopards are no longer seen. The Nweti Male’s son, the Nottens Male, looks just like him and in time we hope he settles back into the southern reaches of the reserve.

The characteristic eyes of the Flat Rock Male back in 2023, when he used to roam the northern parts of the reserve. One of the first leopards I was able to identify, due to his eyes and tail spots. Although still thriving, we no longer see him as he has shifted eastwards off the reserve. He walked through the clearings on a misty morning before rasping into the distance.

The Nkoveni Female being led by the now Xinkhova Female and Stone Drift Female along the boundary. She spent most of their formative years east of our boundary and would occasionally move further west in search of food while raising these youngsters. I was driving with Ranger Shaun D’Araujo when we found these three together. It’s incredible to know that both of these young females have since entered into motherhood themselves. The countless memories with the Nkoveni Female are hard to put into words.

The Ndzanzeni Female — whose name translates to “far away” — and her territory in thick, long grasslands, walked towards us. This female has not been seen in the last few months. Although that could mean she has become nomadic or has since died, she always showed remarkable resilience over the years despite her back leg injury.

Little did I know this would be my final sighting of the Senegal Bush Male, in the Sand River west of camp, before his tracks disappeared and his presence left a notable gap in our drives. The first time I saw him, he hissed and charged the vehicle while mating with the Mashaba Female near Shingi Dam. I was apprehensive of this male after that. Incredibly, over time and through trust, he became one of the most viewed and photographed leopards at Londolozi.

To this day I still drive past this Tamboti thicket and remember this moment in the middle of winter, sitting with the Ximungwe Female as she rested in the shade of the tree canopy. I have had countless sightings with this female — from watching her successfully raise the Mhlahla Male when I first arrived, to the Ntomi Male now dominant in the western sector.

A rare sighting of the elusive Mawelawela Male — and my only photograph of him.

The Senegal Bush Male and Ximungwe Female mating once again. We had found the Ximungwe Female with the remains of a kill, rasping frequently. We left her after some time and returned later that drive to find the Senegal Bush Male had responded to her calls, and the two mated for the next few days.

My early days behind a camera, with a very different lens. This was the Flat Rock Male mating with the Piccadilly Female at one of my favourite places on the reserve — Marthly Pools.

This young male, the Mahlahla Male, was an exciting find during our early training days. When we returned after COVID, he had since dispersed further north. I am unsure what became of him — whether he headed into neighbouring reserves or into Kruger National Park.

The Plaque Rock Female used a Marula tree as a vantage point. The moody, rainy skies and fading light created an unforgettable backdrop as she began to descend. I have countless images of her in trees and it was a difficult one to choose. She was the first leopard I ever saw here at Londolozi, the first leopard cub den I found alongside my tracker Lucky, and she gave me one of my most memorable sightings — the moment she and one of the Ntsevu lionesses ended up in the same tree, fighting over a kill, before the branch broke and lion, leopard and impala fell together.

A bittersweet image to share. This was taken two days before the Plaque Rock Female was tragically killed in the Sand River by a Ntsevu Lioness.

The Nhlanguleni Female on a termite mound. She was the first leopard that allowed me to view her cubs at a den — a moment I can’t quite explain. When I first arrived, she was still in competition with the Finfoot and Nkuwa Females close to camp, still making kills before leaving them to feed alone. Soon these two females went their separate ways — one north of the Sand River, one south — pushing her further west into the river thickets, and sightings of her became rare. After COVID, the Finfoot Female dispersed into Kruger and we began seeing the Nhlanguleni Female more regularly. Surprisingly, the Nkuwa Female had by then shifted entirely south and west of where she had originally been establishing herself.

A moment I will never forget: a young cub emerging onto the boulder after its mother at the den.

The Nkoveni Female navigating through a herd of elephants when a young elephant caught sight of her and came crashing through the bushes. She paused briefly and looked back. It never stops amazing me how these animals coexist on a daily basis.

The Kangela Male, who had a unique coat with spots within some of his rosettes. Accurately named after his enchanting “eyes that wander.” Although he was here for only a short period, he is a male I will never forget — including the first time I ever heard the cough of a leopard greeting another.

The Piccadilly Female with a scrub hare kill, which she carried over 1.5 kilometres to the Ngungwe Female, who at the time had a deep gash on her hind leg that limited her movements. The Piccadilly Female has since shifted eastwards, ceding her territory on Londolozi to the Ngungwe Female, who is now raising a cub of her own. Who knows — perhaps we will be lucky to see her once more on the northern parts of the reserve.

The Ntomi Male, now dominant in the western sector. His characteristic birth mark in his eye made him unmistakable. He was the last of the Ximungwe Female’s litters to reach adulthood and I have countless images of him growing up — but here, just before he dispersed, he stopped on a fallen Marula at eye level.

The Three Rivers Female and the now Tinxiya Female, reuniting. The Three Rivers Female was the first leopard I never actually laid eyes on — when I started guiding, she only had a small portion of her territory on Londolozi. Lucky had tracked her down into a thick area. As we arrived, she disappeared, and we never saw her that drive. Fortunately, we relocated her the following day before she headed east again.

The first time I saw the Tortoise Pan Male was on the 23rd of February 2020. He was sitting up on his haunches, like a meerkat, watching some impala in the long grass. In an instant, he dropped down and continued down the road. I have never seen another leopard do that. Back then, he was a nomadic four-year-old male. Today he is a dominant ten-year-old, fathering cubs of his own.

Potentially one of my favourite leopard photographs I have ever taken. We got the radio call that the Ngungwe Female was up in a dead Knobthorn. The only problem was that we had to cross the Sand River while it was still running high. Fortunately we made it — and it was well worth every second.

The Shingi Male has certainly given us some extraordinary sightings over the past two and a half years.

My first photograph of the elusive Maxim’s Male — at eye level. Still perhaps one of only five I have managed to capture. This male has secured a vast territory across the Sabi Sands, and in recent years has been seen more and more on Londolozi. The first time I spotted him in the distance, I thought he was a lioness. Still the biggest leopard I have ever seen — and still as elusive — which makes moments like this one all the more unforgettable.

An exciting newcomer who I can’t help but hope is here to stay. The Hlambela Male rests on a boulder, soaking in the last warmth of the day from the rock beneath him.