You asked for it. The only way I know how is from the heart, so here it is:
South Africa Leopard Hunt
Part One
The last few rays of sun are just beginning to dance on the distant horizon and the day draw to a close as we exit our plane in the beautiful country of South Africa. Our flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg, although rather long, had been quite comfortable and uneventful. We gather our luggage and secure our firearms permits. We then hit the road for the four hour drive to the home of our good friend and PH ( Professional Hunter, or “guide” as we call them in the States ), Isan VanZyl and his family of Eulalie Hunting Safaris ( www.eulaliehunting.com ) , where we will spend the next eleven days.
We arrive at the lodge at approximately nine thirty p.m., Africa time. Thoroughly exhausted yet much too excited and way too pumped to sleep, I begin organizing my equipment in preparation for the next eleven days of pure hunting awesomeness. Eventually, excitement is overtaken by fatigue and I succumb to the overwhelming need for rest.
After a much needed yet restless night’s sleep, I am up at five a.m. I sit on the edge of the bed, momentarily gathering my thoughts and clearing the left over cobwebs from my head. I quietly get dressed and walk outside, alone, into the chill of the predawn African darkness. I stand, still and quiet, and I listen. On the kopje ( pronounced like “copy” and meaning ” small hill or mountain in a generally flat area” in the Afrikaans language ) behind me, I hear the chattering of baboons as they scurry over rocky ledges, bringing their nightly forays to an end. From the vast bushveld in front of and below me rises the guttural grunts and wheezy snorts of rutting impala, punctuated only by the occasional unfamiliar yet soothing call of some night bird that I can’t identify.
One deep breath and it happens again, just as it always does when I come to this place. As I exhale the ancient African night air, it takes with it any of the remaining stress and worry that may have followed me here. My mind is instantly freed and my spirit cleansed all the way to the furthest recesses of my soul. The desire to exist simply and as nothing more than one small leaf on the tree of life that surrounds me has never been so strong as it is right now and in this place. Serenity and contentment flood in to fill the void left by stress and worry, even as I realize the vanity of my desire. In reality, I exist in another world. Here I am nothing more than one small willow leaf attempting to cling to a mighty oak. Even so, I relish the thought and I choose to live only in this moment. And for now it is the only moment that matters. It’s something bordering on primal. I know it is. It has to be. It’s as if I have just returned from a lengthy yet unexplained absence to a home I have never actually known.
No, I don’t understand it and I certainly don’t have words to explain it, so I don’t even try. Instead, I choose to love it and to embrace it. And in my mind, no explanation, no rationalization is necessary anyway.
To the East, the first rays of dawn are just beginning to scratch and claw their way over the tops of distant kopjes. My heart cracks a smile and I know beyond any doubt that this is going to be an awesome, awesome day!
Part Two
This was our third trip to the Dark Continent. We have since made a fourth. On our previous trips, Africa and her people had graciously gifted myself and my family with some of our fondest hunting memories. For that we will be forever grateful to her. We had spent many days and countless hours together trekking through the bush in search of various species of plains game. Often times we were successful in our quest, finding, stalking, and eventually taking the quarry we sought. On those occasions we were rewarded with some excellent table fare, or as we say in the South, “Some mighty fine eatin”, as well as the beautiful memories that now grace the walls of our home. At other times we returned from the bush after many miles of walking and stalking, tired and empty handed, yet smiling and with glad hearts, satisfied in the knowledge that any day spent with family and friends in the great outdoors is a successful and well spent day.
Soon after the winter sun has completed it’s daily descent into the Western sky, we are usually back at the lodge. With weapons unloaded and safely stowed away, evenings are spent gathered around a crackling fire with a beverage of choice in hand, reminiscing about the day’s events and planning for whatever new adventure tomorrow may bring.
On this trip however, things were to be amped up just a bit. Yes, we would be doing some plains game hunting, but the focus of this adventure would be placed upon a much more dangerous and elusive quarry. Instead of the usual contest of predator vs. prey, this was to be a contest of predator vs. predator. Superior intellect and fire power vs. cunning, stealth, strength, fang and claw. We were here on my first dangerous game hunt and would be pursuing leopard, old Chewy McNasty himself, on his home turf, by his rules, and at night.
Yes, it is legal to hunt leopard at night in South Africa. It is also legal to use lights to do so. However, except in cases of nuisance or predator control such as hunting coyotes, or gators, or wild hogs back home, I have an aversion to the use of artificial light to hunt big game. I was relieved to learn that this was not in Isan’s plan. We would be hunting strictly by the light of the moon. Now that’s what I’m talkin ’bout! This is getting more awesome by the minute!
Obviously, hunting leopard is something I know very little about and have had no experience with. After all, I’m pretty sure that we don’t have these critters back home in the Georgia deer woods. At least, I’ve never seen one there. I do, however, know enough to understand that it is a very dangerous endeavor that is not to be entered into lightly. There are too many things that can and sometimes do go wrong and it only takes a split second for things to take a disastrous turn. Things can go from bad to worse rather quickly when you are many miles and often several hours away from medical attention. I would be relying heavily on Isan’s knowledge, skill, and experience as a PH. We had hunted together on numerous occasions. Therefore, I had complete confidence in his skills and his ability to make every reasonable effort to insure that he and I both returned after the hunt with our shirts and our hides intact and with no missing or shredded body parts.
Part Three
The leopard, as a species, is not only surviving , but thrives throughout much of the African continent as well as other parts of the world. He is extremely resilient and highly adaptable. He lives in all types of environments from the deepest jungles of the Dark Continent to the outskirts of modern suburban areas. He can and does eat just about anything as long as it is made of meat. He is primarily a predator, but when the opportunity arises, he will scavenge from or steal the kills of other predators. In some areas, due to his prolific numbers, he has become quite the nuisance, killing and eating livestock with alarming regularity. Even the occasional human falls victim to his powerful jaws and razor sharp claws. After all, we humans are made of meat. He is an equal opportunity predator who does not discriminate. That is why choosing to pursue him on his home turf is a serious business that if entered into with anything less than the utmost respect and caution can lead to disastrous results, and I don’t mean for the leopard.
His popularity as a challenging game animal has placed a dollar value on Mr. Spots that encourages regional governments and local communities to practice conservation measures that insure his long term protection. These conservation practices are funded in large part through licensing fees and dollars brought into the community by hunters. After all, since his numbers must be controlled, what better way to do this than through legal hunting methods. The financial benefits to local communities and governments, as well as strict anti poaching laws with harsh penalties for violators has greatly discouraged poaching and the indiscriminate killing of these magnificent cats. While they were once thought of as merely a dangerous nuisance, they are now viewed by most as a financial asset as well as a crucial part of the ecosystem worthy of protection.
Hunting permits are issued on an extremely limited basis and strict rules must be followed during the hunt. These permits must be applied for well in advance of the hunt and it was only through Isan’s knowledge and diligence during this process that I had managed to draw a permit the first time I ever applied for one. I had truly won the lottery.
That being said, drawing a permit does not guarantee that one will be able to hunt a leopard upon arrival in South Africa. The government agencies involved in issuing these permits have the foresight to understand that most hunters traveling to South Africa to hunt leopard will not be successful in their quest. Many will never even see one of these illusive cats. Therefore, if it is determined by the powers that be that, for example, fifty leopards need to be removed from a certain region, they may issue over one hundred permits. Even so, once fifty kills are recorded, leopard hunting is closed for the rest of the season. It is my understanding that the government then refunds to the hunter the price of the permit and the hunter is free to apply again for another year.
Leopards, both male and female, are extremely territorial. The big males, or toms as they are called, constantly patrol their territories in search of prey, receptive females, and interlopers trying to infringe on their home turf. The females, when not caring for their young do the same. They are constantly in search of, you guessed it, prey and big strong males. This whole interaction kind of reminds me of some bars I used to hang out in back home many years ago. Infringe upon the territory of another or mess with their potential mate, and things just might get ugly. But, I digress.
It is my understanding that a leopard’s home range can encompass as much as a twenty mile radius and take several weeks for he or she to cover, depending on what they get into along the way. The trick when hunting a particular cat is to try to figure out when was the last time they passed through the area you are hunting and when they will likely return based on past history. This is a very difficult task to say the least, and a hit or miss proposition at best. When attempting to pattern these big cats, the knowledge, skill, dedication and determination of a good PH can greatly increase the odds of at least having an encounter with one of these spotted beasts. I was definitely hunting with one such PH and he and I both had an unexplainable confidence that we would get the job done. I say “unexplainable” because, as previously stated, even with the undeniable skills of a good PH, most hunters who travel to Africa in search of leopard return home empty handed, often having never even seen one.
Part Four
There are actually two methods from which to choose when hunting leopard. Both can be very productive and each is challenging in it’s own rite. Each of these styles of hunting infuses the hunt with it’s own individual aura or vibe. They are completely different in their modus operandi, yet success is guaranteed by neither.
The first is by the use of a highly trained and specialized pack of hunting dogs. This method is almost exactly the same as that often used when hunting raccoons or wild hogs back home in the States or even mountain lions in some of our Western states. It involves searching for a fresh track then setting the dogs loose on that track in hopes that they will catch up to and bay the cat. This can be a time consuming and physically challenging way to hunt, as any hunt of this type should well be. However, it would not be my preferred method of choice. Let me state that I have absolutely no objection to the use of dogs when hunting. I have done so myself on more than one occasion back home. It’s just that, in my mind, the use of dogs on this type of hunt would create an artificial barrier between predator and predator, one that I would not wish to erect.
It is my understanding that, although a legal hunting method in some African countries, the use of dogs in the pursuit of leopard is NOT legal in the country of South Africa. Therefore, this would not have been a viable option for us on this hunt anyway.
The second method, and the one we would be employing on this hunt, is that of baiting. This is not as easy as it sounds and bears little, if any, resemblance to hunting deer or hogs over a feeder or corn pile back home. This method involves patience, strategy and mental acuteness. It also eliminates any and all barriers between the two competitors and usually requires an up close and personal encounter with a large, hungry cat whose territory you are encroaching upon in order to achieve success. Now we’re talkin’!
When a leopard makes a kill, it’s first order of business is usually to carry it’s victim up a tree and wedge it securely in the fork of a limb. This keeps it’s future meals safely out of reach of scavengers such as hyenas or jackals and allows the leopard to return at will to feed at his or her leisure.
The physical strength of a leopard is nothing short of phenomenal. They are capable of effortlessly carrying an animal weighing as much as themselves straight up a tree trunk in their powerful jaws. A leopard does not require it’s meat to be fresh and will often go for several days without returning to it’s kill and will continue to feed even as the carcass continues to “age”, if you catch my meaning.
This is where strategy comes into play when employing this style of hunting. First, you must find an area that is currently being frequented by a leopard. Secondly, you must procure a bait to place in the area, i.e., an entire impala carcass, a zebra hindquarter, or any LARGE slab of meat that may be desirable to a big, hungry cat. It must be large enough to prevent the cat from being able to consume it in just one or two feeding sessions. Thirdly, you must find just the right tree in the area in which to hang the bait. A desirable tree must possess a limb that would be large enough and comfortable enough for a leopard to sit or lie on for a considerable amount of time while feeding. This limb must run parallel to the ground below and should be approximately ten to fifteen feet off the ground, a safe enough distance to keep the bait out of reach of scavengers. Fourthly, you must find and construct several such bait stations in order to increase your odds for success. Fifthly, you must make the rounds each and every day, checking each site for signs of activity, replacing baits or refreshing scent drags as needed. All of this can be and usually is very time consuming. These multiple bait sites are usually miles apart and require a good deal of travel time through the African bush on less than perfect roads.
Wait a minute. Back up. Scent drags? ” What is this scent drag you speak of?”, you may ask. Well, let me explain to you what a scent drag is and how you go about laying one down, something that must be done at each bait station. I only hope you have not just eaten or are about to sit down to a meal as you read this next part. A properly constructed bait site is designed to fool these wary cats into thinking that they have stumbled upon another leopard’s kill. Therefore, realism is the key and that’s where scent drags come into play.
First, I will reveal to you the closely guarded secret recipe for the scent ” brew “. I warn you in advance….don’t try this at home! Take a five gallon bucket or similar container with lid. Fill this bucket with the entrails of animals that have been successfully hunted and processed, i.e., stomachs ( with all the contents inside ), intestines ( again, with all the contents intact ), livers, kidneys, hearts, lungs, blood, fat, and anything else that can be pulled from the body cavity. Add a small amount of water, if necessary, to make it soupy. Then take a large stick and jab and stir the contents until everything is well blended. Now, place the lid securely on the container and sit it outside in the sun for several days. That’s right, in the sun for several days.
Can you imagine the smell that spews forth from this bucket when the lid is removed after several days under the hot African mid day sun? I promise you that you can not! It is without a doubt the foulest, nastiest, vilest stench to ever slither it’s way up my nostrils and it’s purpose is to attract a leopard to the bait. Now, can you imagine cruising around for hours on end in the back of a Land Cruiser with this bucket under or just behind the seat you are perched in? Even at the time, I found this entire scenario to be somewhat comical, yet necessary. After all, what is that old saying? No pain, no gain. Since Becky was with us during this entire process, all I can say is that my wife is a trooper and quite the team player!
At each bait site, hand fulls of this mess are slung on the trunk of the tree where the bait is hung. Then a large mop made of bundled rags is repeatedly dunked in this stinky soup and dragged over the entire area including game trails and often times even the road we drove in on. Hopefully, while making it’s rounds a leopard will come across this scent trail and follow it to the bait tree. Even if this happens, the cat will not always feed on the bait immediately upon finding it.
Fresh tracks in the soft sandy soil at the base of the tree often indicate that the bait has been detected. Many times, however, the cat will return to the site several times over the course of several days to check it out before actually feeling secure enough to feed on it, fearing retribution from the rival whose kill it is now considering stealing. Once the cat begins to feed, if this happens, it is now decision time. Do the tracks in the sandy soil appear to be large enough to indicate that they belong to a large male or are they small enough to point to a female or juvenile. If it is determined that the spoor is that of a large male worthy of pursuit, it is now time to construct a blind made of the surrounding vegetation in which to conceal the hunters while waiting for the cat to return. This is the technique we would be employing on this hunt. And so it was, with excitement bordering on insanity, yet tempered by just enough of that good ole fashioned self preservation tonic known as” cautiousness” that my hunt began.
In preparation for my hunt, Isan had actually begun scouting well in advance of my arrival ( by several weeks to be exact ). I told you this guy was good. He had already established several bait sites, yet if my memory serves me correctly, only one of them was actually being hit by a leopard. His trail cam video revealed that it was a large female and that she was returning to the site almost nightly, missing just a few nights here and there. She was an exceptionally large female and had we been relying solely on the size of her tracks to judge, we may have been fooled into thinking that this was a male cat. However, the trail cam video also revealed that this cat was missing two key parts that would have indicated a male.
Setting up on and attempting to shoot this female would have been perfectly legal. However, neither of us wished to do that. Why? Although I understand the need to do so for conservation and wildlife management purposes, something in the back of my mind causes me to feel hesitant when it comes to shooting females of any species. Maybe it’s because the females are the primary propagators of the species , and as such, bear the primary responsibility when it comes to rearing and teaching the young. Maybe it’s because I was born and raised in The South where we learn at an early age to respect, protect, and hold women in a high regard. After all, our wives, daughters, sisters, and mothers are all women. Maybe Isan felt the same way because he was born and raised in South Africa. Maybe us Southern boys are all the same no matter where the South may be. Maybe all of this is a bit of a stretch. I don’t know. All I know is that I had determined and stated to several people in advance of my trip that I would prefer to return home empty handed rather than shoot a female. I would like to believe that this statement was true.
We spent the next several days checking the already established bait sites and adding a few new ones. It was our desire to hunt some plains game species on this trip, so we took advantage of the opportunity to do some multi tasking. We successfully hunted impala and zebra and used the carcasses as leopard bait. This may sound wasteful, but consider this. If we were successful in taking a leopard, sacrificing a few plains game animals in the process would pale in comparison to the numbers that the leopard would have killed over the course of it’s lifetime, not to mention the toll it may have taken on livestock. We intended to hunt these animals anyway. We just donated most of the meat to ” the cause ” rather than consuming it ourselves. Besides, this was really our only way to hunt.
Most of the next three days were spent making the rounds, driving from site to site, checking for tracks or signs that our baits had been fed upon. We would also remove and replace camera cards at the sites where we had strategically placed trail cameras. Evenings back at the lodge we would review the photos, looking for anything of interest. Although we sometimes found tracks in a particular area, the baits showed no sign of feeding and the camera cards revealed no sign of activity.
On the afternoon of the third day, we established a new bait station using the hindquarter of the zebra I had taken the previous day. We then left the area to check on and retrieve the camera card from one of our already existing sites. It would be relatively slow going over rough roads through the bush and would take us some time to complete the drive. While reviewing the trail cam photos that evening, it was revealed to us that a female leopard with at least one, possibly two, cubs had found and was now feeding at this site. We were anxious to actually begin hunting, so it was determined that we would return to this site the next day to construct a blind in which to sit that night. We would not under any circumstances be shooting this female. With none of our other sites looking particularly promising at the moment, we were hoping that since this female had cubs to feed that she would return to the site daily and that possibly if there was a big male in the area, maybe he would follow her in.
We were in the process of constructing this blind when the phone call came in. That’s right…….phone call…..in the African bush. Ain’t technology great! Isan had asked a fellow PH who happened to be in the area if he would mind checking the new bait site we had just established the previous afternoon. Now, I don’t speak Afrikaans, but I could tell that there was some mighty excited conversing going on between these two over the phone. As it turned out, we were being told that no matter what we were doing, we needed to stop immediately and get over to this new site and get a blind constructed in which to sit that night. Our assisting PH told us that judging from the size of the tracks and the sizeable chunk of meat that was now missing from our newly placed zebra hindquarter that a big male leopard had found and fed on it the previous evening just a few hours after we had hung it.
We dropped everything, ran back to the truck, and hauled……..tail! It was already after noon and we would have to first return to the lodge to retrieve some additional gear before heading to our new destination. We calculated that, at best, we would burn another hour and a half before finally arriving. We would then have to construct a blind before settling in for the hunt. Time was of the essence!
Part Five
We completed the brushing in of our blind with only minutes to spare. We were late. Ideally, we would have settled into our fully constructed blind several hours before dark. This would have given the area time to settle back into a natural state after our human intrusion, giving our spotted friend less reason to be cautious should he decide to put in an appearance that evening. We had no way of knowing when or even if this big male would return to our bait on this night. Sometimes, hunger drives these big cats to feed just after dark. At other times, caution and fear of retribution from the rival who’s kill they may have stolen coaxes them into waiting until the wee hours of the morning to feed. Either way, we were prepared to sit, quiet and motionless, yet alert and well camouflaged in our hiding place all night if necessary in the hope that he would return.
We were reasonably confident that we were dealing with the dominate male in the area. We were basing this on two observations. First, he had found and fed on the bait the same night that we hung it. Secondly, he had fed early as determined by the time stamp on our trail cam photos. Both were indications that he had no fear of retribution from any rivals. We were also of the opinion that if he did return to feed again that night, that it may again be early when he came in. That is why we were somewhat uneasy about the fact that we had been so late completing our set up. We could only hope that he had not been somewhere nearby watching as these silly humans not only had the audacity to encroach upon, but were now attempting to play games with him on his own turf. We also hoped that he did not have any surprises in store for us once the cloak of darkness fell upon us, sealing us in and leaving us completely at the mercy of his superior strength and excellent night vision. Unbeknownst to us ( did I just use the word ” unbeknownst “?), we would not have long to wait.
It was barely audible when we first heard it. Approximately two hours had slowly ticked off the clock since we had settled in for our night time vigil. It was late in the month of May, or what would be considered late fall in South Africa. Since South Africa is well below the equator and back home in Georgia we are well above it, their seasons are completely opposite ours. Late May there would be akin to late October or early November here.
The falling night time temperature had put a chill in the air that all but silenced most of the usual nocturnal fauna, allowing sound to travel quite some distance on the cold, crisp air. Only the occasional yip of a jackal or whoop of a hyena pierced the otherwise silent night.
There it was again. Still quite some distance away but unmistakable in it’s origin came the sound that is guaranteed to send a maximum overload of adrenaline coursing through your veins and make every hair on the back of your neck stand up, all at the same time. The otherwise calm and peaceful night time silence was now being verbally assaulted by the “sawing” of a big male leopard!
When a leopard is coming in to feed on his kill, or what he is now claiming as his kill, he often does so in a gentlemanly fashion. He sometimes has the courtesy of letting everyone and everything in the area know that he is coming in and that it is time to clear out or risk serious bodily harm or worse. He does this by making a series of very loud, very deep, guttural sounds that carry for quite a long distance. It is a somewhat difficult sound to describe if you have never heard it, which most people including myself until now, never have. Take the sound that is made when using an old fashioned, two-man cross cut saw to saw through a log and combine that with the sound of the cough of an old man who has smoked way too much all of his life. That is the sound a leopard sometimes, but not always, makes when coming in to feed and it is known as “sawing”.
When we first heard it, it seemed to be emanating from the rocky ledges of the kopje that lay several hundred yards to our right. It came as a series of three “coughs”, then silence. “Did you hear that?” Isan asked. “Yes”, I said. He responded, “I believe that’s him”. We waited in silence for approximately five minutes before hearing it again. This time it sounded slightly nearer. We could only hope it wasn’t our imaginations playing tricks on us. “I’m pretty sure that’s him,” was the faint whisper I again heard in the darkness.
Another few minutes ticked off the clock before we heard it again. This time it was unmistakably louder and unmistakably nearer. “That is definitely him and he’s coming in!”, was the enthusiastic whisper I received this time.
It appeared that the gods just might be smiling upon us that night and just maybe we would be rewarded for all of the hard work, planning and effort that had gone into this hunt. Just maybe.
For what seemed like an eternity this ritual continued. Every few minutes, we would hear a series of three “coughs” followed by complete silence. Each time a little louder and a little closer until at last he was right at the base of the tree where his carpaccio buffet awaited. Less than thirty yards away, yet completely obscured by the tall grass and total darkness, his “coughs” were almost deafening. My heart was pounding uncontrollably and it seemed as though my head would explode at any second. I had to make a conscious effort just to force myself to breathe. I had to regain control of myself. Isan had warned me about this. Earlier in the week he had warned me not to be too over confident if the opportunity for a shot presented itself. He warned me that sometimes the most experienced of hunters “choke” to the point of not even being able to pull the trigger when the moment of truth arrives. He also related to me stories of hunters who were shaking so badly with excitement at the sight of a leopard being so close to them in the wild that when they did pull the trigger their shot went wildly off into the trees not even coming close to their intended target. I laughingly assured him that I would not be that guy should I get the opportunity. He gave me a slight sideways smile as if to say, “We’ll see, my friend, We’ll see”. Now it appeared as though I might have to prove my words true and prove to him that his confidence in me had not been misplaced. Three more coughs from the base of the tree slammed me squarely in the face, then nothing. That was it. Total silence. Nothing more. No sound of scratching and clawing as he climbed the tree to partake of his evening meal. No leopard standing on the outstretched limb in front of me as I had pictured over and over in my mind. No more “sawing”. Nothing. Total Silence. He was gone.
For one brief second my heart sank to the ground. What had just happened? What was going on? Had we done something wrong that may have alerted him to our presence? Had I done something wrong? No. Stop. I can’t allow myself to think like this. Now was not the time to allow negative thoughts to creep in. Rather, now was the time to suck it up, maintain a positive attitude, and ride this night out all the way to it’s conclusion, whatever that may be.
Positive thoughts only. Positive thoughts only. The night is still young. He obviously wants to feed. Maybe he’ll return sometime tonight. Maybe he was distracted by another leopard attempting to come in to the bait. Who knows? Maybe he was not spooked by us or anything we did . Who knows why he did not feed. It could be any one of a hundred reasons that caused him not to commit. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. He will be back. He will be back.
The next hour and a half crept by at a snail’s pace. The adrenaline rush had subsided and a feeling of exhaustion began to take over. It had been a long day. I had to fight the urge to let my guard down and become complacent. The night was young yet, and there were still many hours to go before this night’s hunt was officially over.
I would intermittently lean back slowly and silently in my seat, close my eyes and relive the earlier events of the evening in my mind. I would then lean forward again to pear out of the opening of the blind into the cold, still African night. It was a perfect picture of what appeared to be a perfect set up. Squarely in front of me there was one medium sized opening in the otherwise thick canopy of limbs and leaves. Across the base of this opening ran the thick, heavy limb upon which rested the remaining portion of the partially eaten zebra hindquarter. This entire frame was backlit by a crystal clear star filled sky and spotlighted by the full African moon. Perfection personified. Now if he would only add himself to this picture.
” What is that?”, I thought to myself. Something is sitting on the limb beside the bait. It’s much too small to be a leopard, but something is definitely there. I eased my binoculars up to my face and peered through them. It was a strange looking spotted little creature with a long tail that hung off the back side of the limb. It looked like a mish mash cross between a cat, a raccoon, and a monkey. It was a genet. Pretty cool, I thought. I’ll never see one of those back home from the deer stand. He was just sitting there, not feeding, but alternately looking back and forth from the hindquarter to the ground below. That should have been my clue. It wasn’t.
Suddenly, he scampered off the limb and disappeared into the darkness as if someone had thrown a rock at him. I sat back once again and closed my eyes for a brief second. Still clueless.
What happened next is something that I will carry with me to my grave in it’s every minute detail. The image is burned into my very soul and has not, nor will it ever fade with the passing of time. The buzzing of the insects in the tree to my left stopped. The intermittent call of the night bird off to my right fell silent. The yipping of the jackal somewhere back behind me ceased. The entire area around us instantly fell into a complete and deafening silence………except for the ever so faint sound of razor sharp claws against tree bark as he effortlessly bounded up the tree in one swift, fluid motion. And there he was.
Backlit by a million stars and spotlighted by the full African moon, there on the outstretched limb in front of me was the most magnificent sight I had ever witnessed over a lifetime of hunting. The image I had pictured in my mind over and over again paled in comparison to the one I was now being confronted with. It was almost too much to process. Isan’s words from earlier in the week came roaring back into my head like a freight train barreling down the tracks completely out of control.
There he stood, perfectly broadside and completely motionless, save for the slow continual sweeping of his head from side to side, as he surveyed his surroundings, making sure that all was secure before he began to feed.
It was all up to me now. All of the planning, all of the time and energy spent procuring and hanging baits, all of the time spent making the rounds to check and reset baits, all of the hopes that things would actually fall into place, all of the anticipation of the excitement and gratitude we would feel if they did. All of it, every bit of it now hinged on my ability to maintain control of my emotions (and my bodily functions) in order to get the job done. I was already looking at him through my 50mm Leupold scope. I had already picked out one particular rosette slightly behind his shoulder as my aim point. I had already settled the cross hairs on that rosette. I was ready to rock and roll, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. Not yet. You see, even though I knew beyond any doubt that this was the big boy we had come after, common courtesy, respect and protocol dictated that I could not shoot until I received the o.k. from my PH. He studied intently through his binoculars. After a few brief moments, I heard the words I was waiting for. The ever so faint whisper came through the darkness, “Go ahead whenever you’re ready.” I took a deep breath…inhale, exhale. Then a second …inhale, exhale. Now a third…inhale, exhale halfway and hold it. My breathing stopped as my heart ceased pounding in my ears. A complete and total calmness settled over me as time ceased to exist. A series of electrical impulses fired in my brain, rushing down my neck, across my shoulder and down through my right arm. They hesitated just briefly at the end of my trigger finger before contracting it, causing it to apply slow and steady pressure to the trigger of my rifle.
The explosion created when the primer ignited the powder behind the 180 grain Barnes Triple Shock bullet caught me completely by surprise, as it should have. For whatever reason, I still can’t explain it, the fiery blast from the muzzle did not blind me and I maintained a continuous and clear view through my scope. The sight picture had shown me exactly what I had wanted to see.
The bullet had rocketed through the barrel of the Browning A-bolt rifle chambered in .300 WSM (Winchester Short Magnum), exited the muzzle and found it’s mark, hitting the magnificent beast right at my aim point. It also showed me something else I had wanted to see. The big cat did not run down the tree or jump off the limb. That would have been an indication that the shot was less than perfect and that we now maybe dealing with a wounded leopard. If that had been the case, the only ethical thing to do would have been to follow up and make every effort to finish the job. Tracking a wounded leopard, is something that can and often does end badly, and I don’t mean for the leopard. Under this circumstance, someone is usually going to get hurt. It’s just a matter of how badly. Putting myself, or even worse, Isan in danger by having made a bad shot is not something I even wanted to think about. Through the scope I had seen the leopard go completely stiff for just a millisecond before being catapulted sideways off the limb, hitting the ground below with a solid thud, followed by complete silence.
I collapsed back in my chair, exhaling the remaining air from my lungs. Now that it was almost over, the sense of pure excitement coupled with a sense of relief caused adrenaline to once again surge through my veins. I began to shake violently and uncontrollably. I had to fight the urge to lunge out of my chair and yell at the top of my lungs. Yes, it was almost over, but not quite yet.
This is the time when things can and sometimes do take a disastrous turn for the worse. We had to remain silent for the next few minutes, listening for any indication that he may not be as dead as we thought he was. I knew that he was dead. I had witnessed the contest of missile meets muscle through my rifle scope and I had seen the results. Isan had watched the entire scene play out through his binoculars and he was as confident as I was. However, we both knew that approaching a “dead” leopard with anything less than extreme caution and readiness is what can get you killed, in much the same way that it is the “unloaded” gun that is involved in many accidents, not the “loaded” one.
And so we sat in complete silence and we waited. We listened intently. The rustling of dry grass? The crackling of dry leaves? The snapping of a twig? Thankfully, no. Nothing. Complete silence. After fifteen or twenty minutes had passed, we decided that we had given him enough time. We exited the rear of our blind and side by side, rifles at the ready, we began to slowly circle the small stand of trees inching ever closer to what we hoped would be our reward. Eyes and ears straining, we crept slowly forward. The tall grass at the base of the tree obscured our vision and prevented us from seeing what lay ( or didn’t lie ) beneath the outstretched limb. It was not until we were a mere fifteen or twenty feet away that our flashlight beams revealed to us that there was something spotted either lying or crouched in the grass. Which was it? Lying dead or crouched and at the ready, just waiting for us to come a little closer before unleashing his unbridled rage upon us.
We stopped and studied for a few moments. Any sign of breathing? Any sign of movement? Any sign of life at all? None. We picked up a stick and tossed it at him. No response. We tossed a small rock. Still no response. We then realized that he was ours.
Approaching and actually putting my hands on this magnificent animal was an emotional high that I can not possibly find words to describe, so I won’t even try. It would be a fruitless effort anyway.
I laid down my rifle and dropped to my knees. Facing him head on, I grasped his head firmly by cupping one hand behind each of his ears. I then raised his head and closed my eyes as I slowly leaned forward placing my forehead squarely against his. Why did I do this? I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I just did. That’s all I can say.
We loaded him into the back of the truck and returned to the blind to retrieve the rest of our gear. It was then that we received a startling jolt. There in the sand behind our blind, approximately fifteen feet from where we had been sitting were his tracks. Apparently, he had sensed that something was amiss when he came in the first time. That is why he did not feed. He left and spent some time circling the area in an attempt to find whatever it was that was causing him to feel uneasy. Isan told me then that he thought he had heard him behind us at one point, but he wasn’t sure. If it was the big cat, he had been so close that Isan would have dared not move or make a sound anyway. Having satisfied himself that all was well, he then returned to the tree to feed, allowing me the opportunity to make the shot.
It was late into the night when we began our drive back to the lodge. The phone call was made to our wives who were still awake and anxiously awaiting some word from us. They were ecstatic at the news. I’m not sure if they were more excited about the fact that our hunt had been a success, or that we were returning home unharmed. They both recognized and understood the potential danger involved in what we were doing.
The celebration and rehashing of the evening’s events continued on into the wee hours of the morning. We finally succumbed once again to the need for sleep. After all, tomorrow would bring the dawning of a new day to the African bushveld, and we could never be sure what new adventure it may have in store. We could be certain of one thing though. Tomorrow would be spent in a place we had come to love dearly, doing something that we loved to do and with the people that we loved sharing these times with. And you know what, my friend? I’m here to tell you that it just don’t get no better than that!