Let’s find a leopard! 

We had just enjoyed a wonderful encounter with a pride of lions and the day was fading. It had been a long day filled with dust, bumpy roads and a scorching sun, but also legendary landscapes and goosebump-type wildlife encounters.

“Now, let’s find a leopard,” my guide enthusiastically proclaimed when we turned away and left the lions behind. I was not aware that leopards could be found just like that, as I’d read something about them being very shy and elusive. But I didn’t know much about them except that they are, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful of the big cats. 

However, I quickly learned that a good guide knows the wild, including where leopards like to hang out. He soon spotted a tree with several cars gathered around it. Which is a good sign. Leopards like climbing trees. And cars gathering normally means that there’s something attracting attention.

We pulled up under the tree, and there she was. Not very visible, but we could see a leopard lying there on one of the higher branches. And we could definitely hear her. She was enjoying a fresh kill, and the sound of crushing bones was prominent. Now and then some bone fragments fell down into the grass below her.

She took her time, clearly having a feast, and several of the other spectators started to lose patience. “It could stay up there until the morning, let’s leave,” a woman next to us concluded. So they left. So did several of the others.

“It will not stay up there until the morning. I think it will come down. Soon. And when it does, it will come down on this side of the tree,” my guide whispered to me. 

How on earth can he know that, I wondered. I was tired and thirsty and had run out of water a long time ago, and I’d already ticked off “leopard” on my mental Big Five list, even though she was only partly visible up there behind the branches. 

But we stayed put, and my guide’s enthusiasm spread to me. Suddenly the crunchy chewing stopped. No more bits and pieces and leftovers came tumbling down. 

“She’s moving!”

She stood up, stretched, and started grooming. The meal was definitely over. After a while she was satisfied with the grooming and started climbing down. 

On our side of the tree.

It was one of the most elegant moves I have ever witnessed. She climbed down headfirst, stopped for a moment halfway down - almost hanging in midair - to scan the surroundings, before continuing her descent and jumping down. The intensity in her eyes as she was screening the savannah. The placement of her paws. The balance. As elegant as a prima ballerina in slow motion.

We followed her for an hour or so through the waving grass. The day slowly turned to evening and the light shifted, as the big cat wandered towards an unknown target in the distance. Calm, focused, totally quiet.

Again, I was reminded that a good guide knows his wilderness. “I think she’s heading towards those rocks over there. She will use them as viewpoints.” And so she was. The grass was long and we lost sight of her now and then, but she held her course towards the rocks.

After more than an hour together we stopped and let her continue her journey alone. She was perfection in motion. Unaffected by us, she wandered into the swaying grass of the Serengeti plains and vanished. We slowly turned around and set course towards camp, the African sunset dancing behind us like a closing curtain.