Life in general teaches us that often if we wish too hard for something to happen, it probably won’t. We tend to somehow “look too hard” that we often miss what we are searching for right in front of us.

Ain’t that the truth?

From the time I saw the young Kigelia female mating after the loss of her last litter, I took it upon myself to track the next period of mating in the hopes of being able to find her next litter, if indeed she was successful.

This interest propelled my passion for leopards and their way of life, their secrecy and nature kept me intrigued at every meeting. My tracker, Doctor, nurtured the same interest and passion and we started betting against one another about the birth of her next litter.

We would bet the dates and den sites, challenge and push one another to track her down. One morning we were successful! After counting down the days of her return from the southern section of the reserve, we were familiar with her path. We knew if we had tracks on a certain route, they would most likely turn out where we had expected. We put our knowledge and skills to the test and challenged ourselves to see just how well we have come to know this female.

Success! Heading through with our chosen route we find fellow colleague, Lazarus approaching our position. We turn the vehicles off and listen carefully as the squirrels in the dense vegetation ahead alarm.

We spot her, her dappled coat slinking steadily and quietly through the bush. I held my breath and brought my binoculars to my eyes, searching for the sign that I had longed to see. We hadn’t seen this female in four weeks, and I knew exactly where she had been. She went to give birth.

Doctor and I let out a sigh of relief and revel in the moment as we both know exactly how this sighting is going to turn out. We had a feeling; it was a feeling of determination and we were living it through her. She walked with purpose toward the very spot we spoke about a den site being.

After a couple minutes, myself, Doc and our guests, witnessed a life-altering moment. Brand. New. Life.

Her chuffing along the riverbed drew the air from my lungs. I held in anticipation my eyes darting for shrub to shrub in the rocks nestled in the riverbed.

Out tumbles the smallest spotted creature I have ever laid eyes on. Her motherly instincts set in and she rests along the rock and allows the nervous ball to approach for a feed. Tucked into mom’s belly, I feel emotional. I cannot seem to find the words to explain to my guests how amazing this really is. So instead, we exchanged a smile, some teary, others in awe and enjoy the moment together.

This was the first time I had found the den site and a leopard cub, which happens to be quite a score in the guiding community and Doc and I were very pleased with our discovery as we had put in a lot of work and interest and time in following this female. And funny enough, when we came across her tracks that day, we weren’t looking for leopard. But I guess it all just fell into place.

It’s now lockdown and the sightings of Kigelia and her cub have been incredibly scarce. I’m on the reserve and I lack the companionship and help of my trusty tracker. It takes hours to pick up the tracks and be able to follow them.

I spot disturbance in the soft sand and pull my vehicle over to the side of the road. I had eventually come across her tracks, which are unique due to a limp in her back-left leg. And to my surprise, a small version marked in the soft sand next to hers.

I couldn’t believe my eyes! I jump out the vehicle and walk a few meters ahead trying to assess where the tracks head. Straight. They go straight I tell myself. How hard can this be??

Never underestimate the eyes and skills of trackers on the tracker seat. Because driving and tracking ain’t easy, especially when you can’t see past the steering wheel let alone the bonnet of a Land Cruiser.

I curse myself for a moment for being short and ponder at how much I miss my friend. I have to now change my tactic and tracking becomes a longer process.

With no luck, I call it a day and can only imagine the sighting. The cub is old enough to move far distances and this movement tells us the cub is eating meat. The cub is thriving and it’s that sign that settles my thought and drives me to find her again.

Weeks go by. Nothing. No sign of Kigelia. No tracks, no alarm calls of the usual suspects around the areas she frequents. I search all the roads and boundaries, and eventually we have success. Tracks were found heading up the access to Little Bush Camp.

Although I couldn’t follow up that morning, I went out in the afternoon to do some snooping. I return to the tracks to see if I can pick up a direction and mark out frequented roads and areas she often goes. I start my rounds and around and around I go.

Before I call it quits, I decided that one last swing past her old den site wouldn’t hurt. The sun is setting and it’s getting late, so I relieve myself of the pressure and decide to enjoy the scenery of the area as I bumble back home.

The road, Kigelia, from which she is named is a beautiful mixture of twists and turns. Low hanging riverine vegetation hugs the turns and hangs low. It's a beautiful stretch of the reserve.

But before I can reach the turn off, my foot instinctively slams on brakes. My head is ringing with the words of my partner Stefan, “Stop looking so hard and you’ll eventually find her.”

And there she was standing in front of my vehicle and without warning, the now significantly larger ball of fur, once so small and grey bounds into the bushes, unwilling to show face just yet.

I fumble for my camera, to re-adjust settings and stall my vehicle in the process. Before I know it, I’m staring hopelessly at an empty road. Kicking myself that I wasn’t ready, I eventually turn my vehicle back on and drive in the hopes I’ll come across them.

What mattered in that moment was that I had the opportunity to relive the experience of seeing her and her cub once more. The thrill of finding the cub. I miss Doctor here more than anything and can only imagine how he would have loved this moment.

I round the bend and approach the riverbed cautiously. Picking up my binoculars I notice the bounding movements of the cub through the vegetation ahead. I decide to move a little closer.

Fighting the riverbed, my wheels pull and slide. I remind myself that this is not the time to get stuck!!

There she was, Kigelia in all her beauty resting in the riverbed. I watched her for a few seconds, but that time felt like hours. She looked tired, aged really. Her body not as muscular and defined and it used to be, her face slighting sunken and drab. But still beautiful, her eyes still gleamed and captivated me, I am reminded of how I believe she is the prettiest leopard I have seen on the reserve.

Motherhood, I think to myself.

Eventually I am rewarded with a sighting I longed for for so long. Her little one nervously searching for the safety of its mother, darts out the bushes at lightning speed. Creeping deeper into the comfort of mom’s hind legs, the cub suckles its fill as its mother grooms the little one.

It starts to rain but still I sit and be still soaking in every last second I can get with the pair as I don’t know when I’ll see them again.

I savour the image as they move away into the dense vegetation and head north. What felt like hours, turned out to be a measly six and a half minutes. But every second was worth it.