The Solitary Cat of the Desert
Only those who have truly locked eyes with the elusive spotted cat — the leopard — understand the force of the encounter. It doesn’t just stir your soul; it slams into your chest, tugging at your heartstrings with a power that leaves you breathless.
On our last journey through the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, fortune favored us twice. The same leopard revealed itself more than once — a rare privilege, a gift from the wild.
Every safari-goer knows the rule: a cluster of cars means something extraordinary. At Kij Kij waterhole, the air was electric, anticipation buzzing through the crowd of vehicles. We scanned the horizon, expecting lions — a pride had ruled this spot earlier in our trip. But minutes passed. Nothing. Confusion crept in. Then, following the line of lenses and binoculars, we saw it: a faint speck on the crest of a distant dune.
More cars poured in, engines humming, excitement mounting. I knew the leopard would never descend to drink with such commotion. So I made a choice — leave the crowd, take the road that curved closer to the dune, gamble on silence and patience.
I parked opposite the dune, raised my 500mm lens, and the moment the focus snapped into clarity, my heart leapt. Leopard! I shouted to my wife, unable to contain the thrill. The cat was alive with energy, moving deliberately down the slope. I raced back to whisper the word to our friends at the waterhole. Their stunned faces said it all — disbelief, awe, the kind of silence only a leopard can command.
We agreed: no sudden movements, no giveaway excitement. Their car pulled off casually, as if nothing was happening. We followed a minute later, positioning ourselves perfectly. Windows down, cameras ready, fingers hovering over shutter buttons.
For fifteen unforgettable minutes, the leopard descended, step by step, dune by dune. Each movement was poetry in motion, each breath a reminder that we were witnessing one of nature’s most elusive performances. And when the shutter clicks finally broke the silence, they felt less like photographs — and more like stolen fragments of eternity.
I was so lost in the moment that I found myself whispering out loud - something to the tune of “just a little more my spotted beauty”!
It was a young male and over the next 5 minutes he granted us numerous photo opportunities as he walked parallel to our car before crossing over the road - I managed to capture this moment forever!
A few days later, as we drove south from Nossob toward Twee Riveren, fate intervened once again. We were still buzzing from the thrill of watching three spotted hyenas near Melkvlei picnic spot when we noticed a familiar sight: a cluster of cars gathered in the same stretch of road. Curiosity piqued, we stopped and asked a fellow traveler what had been seen. His eyes lit up as he whispered the word we longed to hear — leopard.
Luck was smiling on us. It was the same young male we had encountered before, this time stretched out lazily beside the road, his golden coat blending into the dust. I turned to my wife and said with quiet certainty, “He’ll move soon. The shade is fading.” We switched off the engine and waited, the silence thick with anticipation.
And then, as if scripted by the wild itself, my prediction unfolded. The leopard rose with effortless grace and slipped into the cool shadow of a nearby tree. My heart raced — not just from the sight of him, but from the uncanny accuracy of the moment. If only my other forecasts, like the winning lotto numbers, came true with such precision!
We are very conscious around viewing time at sightings so we left to give other cars an opportunity to capture their own shot of a lifetime!
Our next trip is around the corner so stay tuned!
Till next time…