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Just over two months ago, the Ximungwe Female leopard appeared to be in serious trouble. An injury to her front left leg had rendered it virtually unusable, and she was unable to place any weight on it. Watching her limp through the bush with a dangling limb was painful, not just for what it meant for her, but also for her seven-month-old cub, who was still very much dependent on her for its survival at the time.
For weeks, it has felt like rangers and trackers have held their breath. Her future felt uncertain, and with it, her cub’s.
But as the bush so often reminds us, resilience is woven into every thread of life out here. It is present in the soil, the trees, the shifting light, and the quiet determination of animals like her.
In the past few days, we’ve been fortunate to spend some time with both the Ximungwe Female and her cub again, and what we’ve witnessed has left us quietly in awe.
A few afternoons ago, we set out on a long tracking mission. Her tracks wound through bushwillow and guarri thickets, rocky riverbeds, tamboti groves and around a few pans. We followed them patiently. Hours passed. We looped and backtracked, picked up fresh signs, paused to listen, then carried on. But as the light began to fade and the bush turned to silhouette, we realised we would have to return the following day and try again.
And thankfully, we did.
The next morning, with the air still cool and a soft breeze carrying that classic smell of the African bush, we found them. The Ximungwe Female and her cub were perched in a large tamboti tree with a Grey Duiker carcass hoisted securely in the fork above. Both she and the cub looked well-fed and completely at ease.
It was the first time I had seen the Ximungwe Female in a few weeks, and I couldn’t help but watch her closely. To my amazement, she moved up and down the tree with complete ease. She was fluid and sure-footed, her movements graceful and powerful. No limp. No hesitation. It was incredibly heartwarming to witness.
She has made a remarkable recovery. More than that, she has stunned us all.
As if to prove her success further, the very next day, we were with them again. This time they were feeding on yet another duiker carcass, hoisted high in the limbs of a Schotia tree nearly two kilometres from where they had been the previous morning. Two kills in two days. It was an extraordinary testament to her ability, her resilience, and her success as a mother and a hunter.
Although she may not be completely healed, and there might still be some residual tenderness we cannot see, she is as close to her normal self as we could possibly hope for. To see her thriving again, moving freely and being able to provide successfully for her cub has been one of the most rewarding and emotional experiences of this winter season for me.
The Ximungwe Female’s male cub. His future once again looks bright.
I’ll do my best to share another update soon as we continue to follow their journey. For now, it is enough to know that they are doing well, and that nature — as it so often does — has once again reminded us of its strength, its patience, and its ability to quietly overcome.
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Matt Rochford
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