Late one afternoon, Joy and I set out with our guests in search of the elusive Ximungwe Female. As we approached a prominent four-way crossing in central Londolozi, Joy suddenly raised his hand, which meant he had spotted some fresh tracks crossing the road.
Not just one set, but two. Alongside what looked like the Ximungwe Female leopard’s tracks were the much smaller tracks of her five-month-old cub.
Evidence of fresh tracks of a leopard seen on top of vehicle tracks from the morning game drive always spark some excitement.
Judging by how fresh they were, Joy suspected that the mother had recently made a kill and was leading her cub back towards it. Excited by the prospect, I jumped off the vehicle and joined him on foot. Knowing we only had about 45 minutes before sunset, we had to move fast to make this tracking exercise a success. Less than 300 metres down the road, Joy suddenly froze and pointed towards a nearby jackalberry tree.
This was the face we saw. We stopped dead in our tracks and observed the beauty of a leopard in a tree.
Then there was movement. A young leopard cub leapt from the branches and disappeared into the surrounding thickets before we could properly process what we had seen. We swiftly returned to the vehicle and approached in our Land Rover. As we rounded the corner, the scene unfolded before us. High in the jackalberry tree sat the Ximungwe Female feeding on an impala carcass.
The Ximungwe Female successfully hoisted an impala during the day, which she had fed on already.
Having been viewed by vehicles from an early age, this leopard is supremely relaxed around Land Rovers.
Yet despite having secured a meal, she appeared uneasy. Repeatedly she lifted her head and stared towards the thickets where the cub had disappeared, emitting soft contact calls. Adding to the tension was a hyena lingering beneath the tree. Whether it had noticed the cub was impossible to know, but the female’s attention remained divided between feeding and locating her youngster.
Then the Ximungwe Female leapt down the tree and disappeared into the thickets in search of her cub.
Given that we were losing light and not wanting to add further pressure to the situation, we spent only a short time at the sighting before watching her descend from the tree and disappear into the vegetation in search of her cub. Feelings on the vehicle were mixed. We had just witnessed an amazing sight of a leopard feeding in a tree at sunset, but our guests had a lot of questions regarding the safety of the cub and wondered whether the youngster had safely reunited with its mother.
The following morning, fellow ranger Chris Fox and I headed straight back to the area. Our concerns were quickly eased when we found the Ximungwe Female once again resting in the Jackalberry tree. After about forty-five minutes, she moved out onto one of the branches and began contact calling repeatedly. The cub, however, remained hidden.
Eventually she descended, stopped briefly for a drink at a nearby waterhole, and disappeared into a patch of tall grass. Moments later we caught sight of both mother and cub together. The reunion was heartwarming to watch.
She elegantly dropped down the tree and walked over to a near-by waterhole to drink.
The female groomed the cub while the youngster responded with playful bursts of energy, reminding us that behind the solitary nature of leopards lies an incredibly strong maternal bond.
The view of the reunion was not great due to the tall grass; however, I managed to get a snap of the little cub’s face peering through.
After spending some time together, the pair made their way back towards the tree. Knowing the cub still seemed nervous, we chose to give them plenty of space and repositioned ourselves at a respectful distance. Without hesitation, the Ximungwe Female was already back in the tree, but there was no sign of the cub.
The ease with which leopards can climb will never cease to amaze me.
And up to the carcass she moved.
Then, finally, it appeared!
With remarkable confidence for such a young leopard, the cub began climbing the trunk of the jackalberry tree. Slowly but surely, it made its way up before carefully navigating the branches towards the carcass.
I was totally surprised to see the cub in the tree.
What struck me most was not the climb itself, but the patience shown by the Ximungwe Female. Over the course of nearly a full day, she had encouraged, called to, protected and guided her cub back to the safety of the kill. For a young leopard, climbing into an exposed tree requires courage. It means leaving the safety of thick cover and trusting the lessons being taught by its mother.
And it was a beautiful moment to watch as the youngster manoeuvred its way towards the impala carcass.
As we watched the pair feeding together high above the ground, it felt as though everything had finally fallen into place. The cub was safe. The mother was relaxed. And we had been fortunate enough to witness a small but significant chapter in the life of one of Londolozi’s most remarkable leopard mothers.
Here’s hoping this young leopard continues to grow in confidence so we can have more special sightings of these two leopards.
0 Comments
on Two Days with the Ximungwe Female and Cub