Over the past few months, the Nhlanguleni Female has been absent from Londolozi. No tracks called in on her usual routes. No unexpected encounters leaving or returning to camp. For a leopard whose territory ran so close to home, that silence is hard to ignore, and after months without any sign, it seems we may have to accept that this female, born in 2011, may no longer be with us.
Initially skittish female who transformed into a regular presence. Made history by raising first intact litter since her own generation.
Nobody knows exactly what happened, or when. That is often the way with leopards; they slip away quietly, and the bush simply absorbs the absence. What we do know is that she spent her last months moving more and more into the river itself, ranging occasionally further south, and arriving back at one point with wounds to her hindquarters, likely from lions. The territory around her had grown more competitive too, with the Ngungwe Female and Xinkhova Female both becoming increasingly established in areas that overlapped with her range. For an ageing leopard, that kind of pressure accumulates.
While driving through her old territory over the last six weeks, I found myself reflecting on the sightings I have had of her over the years. Often they were unexpected, fresh tracks leading you west of camp, or the alarm calls of a bushbuck drifting across the carpark just before a game drive. Her characteristic green eyes, positioned slightly closer together than most, made her one of the first leopards I could confidently identify when I arrived. That face was unmistakable.
Her captivating green eyes, coupled with the distinctive spots across her nose, gave her a look entirely her own.
What made her story particularly remarkable was how much she changed. As a young female, she was skittish and unrelaxed. A product of her upbringing, raised by a nervous mother, spending her formative months hidden deep in the riverine thickets. But over time, and with the patience the bush sometimes rewards, she transformed into an extraordinary animal to spend time with. Calm. Confident. Utterly at home in a territory that seemed tailor-made for her.
And it was a remarkable territory. Dense riverine cover, multiple clusters of boulders, long stretches of the Sand River largely inaccessible to vehicles, all of it perfect for keeping cubs hidden and safe. Close too to the undulating crests and open clearings where impala were reliable. On paper, it was everything a mother leopard could ask for.
My first ever leopard cub was hers, found on a training drive. Some of my most memorable sightings were with a later litter, on a beautiful set of boulders I still think about every time I drive past. She raised many litters over the years and lost most of them, not through any fault of her own or any failing as a mother, but through the kind of hard luck that leopards in the wild are simply not insulated from. She raised the Finfoot Female and the Nkuwa Female to independence, and that alone is a legacy worth holding onto.
When we first came around to the den, she was grooming her little cubs before they disappeared back into the rock
Next thing, she climbed onto the boulder and scanned her surroundings before climbing back down.
And then, suddenly, this little face appeared, a cub following the scent of its mother.
One of the most remarkable sightings was watching her carry her young cubs in the mid-morning to a new den. Something like that is genuinely difficult to put into words.
This is something one can’t quite put into words when being faced with something like this.
She carried her tiny cubs to a new den
Just before leaving for a drive one afternoon, we heard a bushbuck alarming just outside camp. We drove around the corner to find the Nhlanguleni Female moving her kill into the cover of a Tamboti grove.
A memorable sighting too: after finishing the remains of a kill hoisted in a Schotia tree, she settled on a termite mound at eye level, completely relaxed.
So I find myself reflecting on the years she spent here and the moments I was able to share with guests. Her legacy continues with the Nkuwa Female, who, although now ranging further west, continues to thrive, having successfully raised three male cubs, and with two new additions still tucked away in a rocky area, only a few weeks old. We can only hope that one of those cubs is a female, so that this lineage might one day return to the ground her mother knew so well.
The Nkuwa female and her two male cubs that she raised in 2023 to independence before they dispersed.
Raised as an intact litter, first in 7 years, who has now made her own history by raising two males to independence as an intact litter.
In her absence, the landscape is already beginning to shift. The Xinkhova Female has been moving more regularly west of camp. There is space now, and the bush will fill it in its own time. But for those of us who knew her tracks west of camp, who recognised those green eyes, or the spots on her nose, she will not be easily forgotten.
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