There is a certain magic in knowing that something is there without actually being able to see it.

The bush is constantly speaking, although much of what it says is subtle enough to pass unnoticed. A faint scent carried on the evening breeze, a single animal staring intently into thick vegetation, or the almost imperceptible impression of a paw in soft sand can tell a story that is otherwise invisible to us.

For those who know what to look for, these small signs can open wonderful doors into the lives of some of Africa’s most elusive animals.

We crossed the Sand River into the northern reaches of Londolozi.

One afternoon, we decided to head into the northern reaches of the reserve in search of a few leopards that we don’t encounter as regularly. The Xinzele Female, Hlambela Male, Tortoise Pan Male and Makomsava Female were all possibilities, and we set off with the hope that somewhere amongst the vast network of drainage lines and thick vegetation, one of them might reveal themselves.

The Tortoise Pan Male.

We started in the west, keeping the afternoon sun behind us, and slowly worked our way eastwards. We crisscrossed the Manyelethi River, the lifeblood of the northern reaches of Londolozi, carefully checking the sandy crossings and winding drainage lines as we went.

But the afternoon passed without anything. We searched thoroughly, but the bush remained quiet.

Eventually, the sun slipped below the horizon, and we found ourselves approaching the northeastern boundary. With the light fading rapidly and no sign of a leopard, we decided it was time to call it a day.

The Manyeleti River is the lifeblood of northern Londolozi.

We turned south onto a road that runs parallel to the Maliliwane drainage.

A few minutes later, something caught my attention. A faint whiff of leopard scent. I looked across at Tracker Terrence, and before either of us said anything, I knew he had smelt it too. We continued slowly, suddenly a little more alert to every detail around us.

Then, in the distance, we noticed a herd of kudu.

Five of the six kudu were completely relaxed, casually browsing their way through the vegetation. But one adult female was behaving differently. She stood still, staring persistently towards the Maliliwane drainage.

We stopped and watched her. Her attention was fixed on a prominent termite mound, and she simply would not take her eyes off it.

Had she seen something?

We backed up slightly to get a better view of what she was looking at, but there was nothing obvious. With the last light fading, we decided to investigate.

The last of the sun’s rays lit up this tall column of clouds as the rest of the landscape was falling into darkness.

We scanned the road first, looking for tracks, but the ground was hard and offered little opportunity for a clear impression. We then walked down towards the Maliliwane drainage and split up, hoping that covering more ground might reveal something one of us had missed.

After a short while, I decided to head back to the vehicle. Terrence was a few minutes behind me, but he too had found nothing and was making his way back. The leopard scent could have been several days old. As the air cools in the evening, scent can become stronger and travel differently, so perhaps that was all we had found.

I climbed back into the vehicle and waited. Then, from somewhere down the road, I heard Terrence’s voice.

“Bhuti, come here quickly!”

I immediately jumped out and hurried towards him. He was kneeling beside the road, pointing at something almost invisible in the sand. At first, I could barely make it out. Then we saw them – two tiny toe impressions and a small portion of the back pad.

The track of a female leopard. And it was fresh. Suddenly, everything made sense.

The scent we had picked up. The kudu standing rigidly beneath the fading light. Her persistent stare towards the drainage line. The absence of tracks along the road.

She had crossed directly over it, leaving barely a trace. Terrence immediately set off after her. Speed tracking was our only hope.

I swung the vehicle around and looped ahead towards the northern boundary, following the trajectory of her tracks. I was hoping she might emerge from the thick vegetation in front of us, but given how close we were to the boundary, there was also a very real possibility that she had already crossed.

The Maliliwane drainage is probably one of the most beautiful, yet least explored parts of the reserve due to it’s inaccessible nature.

The terrain around the Maliliwane was incredibly dense, and with darkness settling in, the chances of getting the vehicle anywhere near her were becoming slimmer by the minute.

Terrence was hot on her heels, keeping me updated over the radio. He was so close to where I had parked the vehicle that I could hear his voice before his transmissions even came through. I stopped the vehicle and decided to walk down towards the drainage line to see whether she had followed the riverbed.

I reached for my handheld radio. As I placed my right foot onto the ground, I glanced down into the steep drainage below. And there she was; a flash of golden fur appeared from around a bend. A beautiful female leopard was walking towards us.

The Makomsava Female.

For a moment, everything seemed to slow down.

The Makomsava Female.

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10

Makomsava 4:4 female

2016 - present

The only surviving cub of the Nanga female, currently territorial northern Marthly. Currently denning north of boundary

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After an entire afternoon of searching, we had found her through nothing more than a scent, the behaviour of a kudu and a track so faint that it could easily have been overlooked.

But the magic didn’t end there. As if the timing couldn’t have been any better, she changed direction and began walking up the steep bank directly towards us. She came right past the vehicle. And then, rather than continuing straight into the darkness, she followed the northern boundary for another hundred metres, giving us precious minutes with her in the deepening twilight.

Eventually, she stopped and sat back on her haunches, listening intently to the sounds around her before continuing on her way.

Had she carried straight on from where we first saw her, our entire sighting may have lasted no more than a minute. Instead, she gifted us one of those rare encounters that stays with you. It was a fitting reminder that the bush rarely reveals everything at once.

Sometimes it gives you only the faintest scent.

Sometimes it gives you a kudu staring into the darkness.

Sometimes it gives you a single, almost invisible paw-print.

And if we are paying attention, these small pieces begin to fit together, revealing a story that was unfolding around us all along. The bush is full of these hidden stories. We simply have to slow down, pay attention, and learn how to read them.

What an incredibly rewarding way to spend the last moments of the day with this beautiful female leopard.

Tracking is a magical art indeed. And sometimes, the most subtle signs can lead us to the most extraordinary encounters.