There’s a particular heaviness that settles over the bush when a young life simply vanishes without explanation. No dramatic scene. No obvious answers. Just an absence that grows more profound with each passing day.
A very special sighting that Ranger Dean shared with his guests as they patiently waited for the Ngungwe Female’s Cub to emerge from the rocky outcrop it had been hiding in.
Born 2020 during lockdown to Piccadilly Female. Once skittish, now confident mother denning her first litter in Marthly's rocky terrain.
It’s been quite some time now since we last saw the Ngungwe Female’s cub, with the last sighting of the two of them together being at the beginning of September. No further glimpses of his rosetted coat moving through the thickets. No tracks pressed into the sand alongside his mother’s. Just silence. Even before his disappearance, sightings of the pair together were few and far between. The Ngungwe Female’s elusive nature meant that finding them at all was a challenge, and when we did manage to locate them, the young male proved to be remarkably shy, often melting into the shadows or keeping his distance. Capturing the two of them in the same frame became something of a rare prize, a testament to just how secretive this mother-and-cub duo truly were.
Naturally, he was a very timid youngster, and perhaps his so-called ‘disappearance’ was just because we have not been able to find him, or maybe he had just been hiding out of sight?
Given that the young male cub is the Ngungwe Female’s first litter, it has been fascinating to watch how frequently she has moved the youngster and the distances they would cover without leaving many traces.
In the weeks that have followed, we’ve been fortunate to locate the Ngungwe Female herself on several occasions. Each time, she’s been alone. Each time, we’ve scanned the surrounding thickets, rocky outcrops and riverbeds, hoping to catch sight of a small form trailing behind her or curled up nearby. But there’s been nothing.
The Ngungwe Female, historically one of our more shy leopards, only really started to allow us into her world more recently since her cub had grown in size. This image, captured by Chris Taylor, is something slightly different, but it best captures her character fairly well.
The Ngungwe Female has never been an easy leopard to follow. Her territory sprawls across a vast and rugged landscape, much of it inaccessible by vehicle. She moves like a shadow through terrain, dense riverine thickets, steep koppies, and remote drainage lines where human eyes rarely reach. Her secretive nature makes every sighting feel like a privilege, but it also means that the absence of her cub could simply be a matter of geography and circumstance.
Or it could mean something else entirely?
The Ngungwe Female was born and raised in 2020 by the Picadilly Female; however, as a result of the pandemic, it meant that she had minimal exposure to both people and vehicles growing up. This is the main reason for her elusive nature. Here she is pictured in one of the beautiful marula trees that can be seen from the camps across the Sand River.
The reality is that raising cubs in the wild is extraordinarily difficult, especially for a first-time mother. The threats are countless: lions, hyenas, other male leopards, injury, illness, starvation. Even the most experienced mothers lose cubs. For a leopardess navigating motherhood for the first time, the challenges are even more daunting. She must hunt not only for herself but for a dependent young life. She must choose den sites and safe havens to leave the youngster wisely. She must read the landscape for danger and move her cub accordingly, all while establishing and defending her territory.
The Ngungwe duo was seen briefly moving through one of the more open sections of the Manyelethi River in the Northern parts of Londolozi.
The young male had reached roughly nine months old, an achievement in itself, and a testament to the Ngungwe Female’s ability to provide and protect during those critical early months. But eight months is also a particularly precarious age. Cubs at this stage are growing bolder, more confident, more curious about the world beyond the safety of their mother’s careful choices. The instinct to wander takes hold. To explore. To venture further from the spot where she left him tucked away while she hunted. It’s a natural progression toward independence, but it’s also when danger multiplies. A curious cub investigating the wrong thicket, wandering into the path of a lion pride, or simply straying too far to hear his mother’s warning, any of these scenarios could unfold in an instant.
With no sign of the young male cub for the last few weeks, images like this are a stark reminder of the fragility of life in the bush and the challenges associated with motherhood as a Leopardess of Londolozi.
This was the Ngungwe Female’s first litter, and with it has come lessons that can only be learned through lived experience. The difficulty of providing, the constant vigilance required, and the delicate balance between risk and survival.
If her cub has indeed not survived, it’s a heartbreaking chapter in her story. But it’s also a chapter that may shape her future as a mother. The bush is a patient teacher, and leopards, perhaps more than any other creature out here, are defined by their resilience.
We remain hopeful that answers will reveal themselves in time. The bush holds its secrets closely, and patience is often our only companion as we wait to see what the next chapter holds for this elusive leopardess.
We’ll continue to follow the Ngungwe Female’s journey closely, hoping for answers but accepting that some mysteries remain unsolved. For now, we hold space for what may have been lost, and for what she may yet become.
This is disappointing for sure, but like you said, maybe he’s just been hiding well. I doubt it, but one can hope. Regardless, she’ll take any lessons learned into her next litter.
Hi Chelsea. Certainly. However, what I’ve found in the bush is that there will always be silver linings. Although, it may not always make sense to us, there is something biggest planned for the journey of this young leopardess.
Reece, thanks for the update and we will remain hopeful that the Cub emerges soon!
Thank you, Michael and Terri. We are holding thumbs and will be sure to keep everyone posted.
Beautifully written, Reece. A lovely tribute to this mother leopard and her loss. Always kindhearted, your blogs remind me of your special nature. Looking forward to seeing you again in March.
Hello Kim! Thank you very much! I hope life is treating you well back home. We are so looking forward to welcoming you and Roberto back in March! It’s just around the corner now.
How sad….oh no! It was so emotional… her first cub… she’s one-off the “posh” leopards, like the Nhlanguleni or her mother, more elegant and slender yet strong, so beautiful. She has fantastic rosettes and eyes, it always a treat to read of a cub growing and becoming stronger. What a pity. Excellently written, moving but with hope for the future…
Thank you, Francesca. It is very sad indeed, however, we must always remember that it’s normality out in the bush. It can be raw and cruel but equally as beautiful.
It’s always so sad when such a young cub is killed or dies of other causes.
Hopefully she will soon have another litter and have more luck with the new one.
After such a long time, more than month, the chance that the little one is still alive is probably very slim.
Hard to digest.
Thank you, Christa. It is looking more and more likely that the youngster has not made it but it only means that there will be another opportunity for the Ngungwe Female to learn from the passed have have more success in the future.
Gosh, nature can be a tough teacher, forgetting she’s a mother too. Ngungwe will have more experience for next litter.
Thank you, Mary Beth. That is so well put!
Hi Reece, this is heartbreaking forsure. For a first time mother to loose her cub is devastating. The odds are definitely against the leopard mothers, as they have to feed and protect the cubs at the same time, being a single parent is usually very difficult. Let’s hope the little guy is just hiding somewhere in the bush.
You are completely right, Valmai. We can only hope. Stay tuned for further updates.
If in fact Ngungwe has lost her 8/9 month, she has joined company with Ximungwe who also lost her son at about the same age. Perhaps the main difference between these two losses is Ximungwe and her cub were visible much of the time throughout her territory, due to her and the cub’s relaxed nature, whereas we seldom heard about or saw Ngungwe with her cub. Optimistically, I am hoping her cub is thriving somewhere, staying true to his timid nature, but if not, Ngungwe will carry on as they do, and find a male with whom to mate. She has some experience now so fingers crossed you will come upon her with a cub or two nestled in the rocks near Marthly in a few months.
You are exactly right, Denise! Only time will tell and we will be sure to keep everyone posted with further developments!
It could be timing. How many times have you seen her in the last month? Maybe every time you have, she’s on the hunt or coming back to find her cub or just leaving her cub.
Thanks Reece, such a sad yet beautiful reminder of how harsh life in the wild can be.