CRAWLING IN THE REEDS Leopard up close and personal
Tackling leopard in their terrain
ANY years ago, my wife Win and I lived on Nampini, a beautiful 25 000 hectare ranch on the Zambezi River near Botswana. We had some cattle on the ranch, but the unfortunate animals were continuously being attacked and killed by lion and leopard. The area was populated with big and small game, including plenty of these predators, so it was a losing battle trying to protect the cattle. Lion were the chief culprits, but leopard certainly made their mark as well. The thick bush and reed-banks were ideal leopard habitat. They were exceptionally large specimens, and the biggest leopard I shot there weighed over 100kg. Apart from the lions, leopard would quite often take calves and sometimes even young animals up to eighteen months old.
One specific calf-killing big male leopard never returned to his kills after feeding; he was obviously smart and cautious! I tried sitting in blinds and setting traps, but it was a waste of time. The only way to get this animal was to track it or just come across it while walking in the bush. We did attempt to track him, but every time he would head into impenetrable bush or reed-banks and we had to abandon the chase. I tried using my lion-hunting dogs, but the leopard caught and mauled a couple of them, so I also abandoned that idea. I always took a rifle along when going out at night, either by Land Rover on the ranch or by boat on the river, in the hope of coming across the leopard.
One night, while crocodile hunting on the Zambezi River with my brother-inlaw, Pete Kileff, steering the boat, I spotted what looked like the eyes of a leopard standing on a sand bank. I wiggled the spotlight to indicate that Pete should head towards the spot and I got the 7x57 ready. As we got closer I could make out that it was indeed a leopard. As I took aim the leopard turned tail and took off over the bank. I aimed at the base of its tail and fired as it disappeared into the bushes. We landed the boat on the bank and I got out with the light and shone it around. No leopard! The bush was pretty thick, so it would have been stupid to blunder around, trying to find a wounded leopard in the dark. I decided to go back home and return in the morning with the dogs and a shotgun.
The next morning I set the dogs on the leopard’s tracks and almost immediately they started bristling and barking at something in the bushes a few yards away. I cautiously approached the spot,
the shotgun loaded with AAA buckshot. As I peered into the bush, I spotted the leopard lying dead only about 20 paces from where I had shot at it. I hoped this was the animal that had been causing the problems with the calves, but, although it was a fairly big male, it appeared to be a little smaller than I believed the culprit to be.
Nothing happened for a few weeks and I started to think that I had indeed shot the calf-killer. Unfortunately, this was not so as the killing started again, with a young heifer taken and dragged into thick bush. It was found there by my tracker Luka. “Baba, the leopard has killed again. Come and I will show you,” he said. At the spot we found the familiar tracks of the big leopard. I set up a blind, but this produced no result. The animal simply didn’t return. I set a gin-trap, hoping that he would come in if he knew there was nobody waiting in a blind, but that produced no result either. He was too crafty!
Over the next two months the leopard killed three more calves. Then, one night, my friend Janusz pitched up to go out with me on a crocodile hunt on the river. We loaded our rifles and gear into the boat and set off at about 8pm with Luka to help load any crocs I shot. He couldn’t swim a stroke, but he was always keen to come along. We travelled upriver for a couple of hours, shot a few crocs, then turned around and travelled slowly downstream. Janusz was steering and I was standing in front, shining the spotlight, directing the boat and looking for more crocs.
About half-way back I saw a set of eyes shine up on the bank near a large patch of reeds. The eyes weren’t the typical colour of a fire ember and they were too high off the ground for a croc lying on the bank. Also, it kept blinking and turning away. Suddenly I realised that it was
a big leopard. I wiggled the light while Janusz turned the boat and we headed steadily towards the spot. As we got closer, I could make out the shape of the leopard, squatting on its haunches, looking straight at us. I grabbed Janusz’s .270, loaded with 160gr soft-nose bullets, and aimed for the chest just below the leopard’s jaw, between the front legs, and fired. I expected the animal to drop in its tracks, but it let out a loud grunt, jumped straight up in the air and spun around, charging into the thick reed-bank.
We beached the boat and I clambered up and shone the light around but saw no sign of the leopard. “Let’s go after it,” Janusz said. “No way; that is asking for trouble. I’ve recently been mauled by a lion and I don’t fancy it happening again. The leopard will be hiding in the reeds and we won’t be able to see it. We will come back in the morning with the dogs,” I replied.
In the morning we collected the dogs and I brought along my double-barrelled 12ga shotgun loaded with Super X, AAA buckshot. Janusz had his .270 ready, I showed the dogs the blood spoor where it led straight into a dark hippo path in the high reeds. They started bristling and growling and, assuming that the leopard must be in there, I told Luka to release the dogs. They took off down the hippo path and almost immediately there was a loud grunting and snarling from the leopard, followed by the appearance of the dogs hightailing out of the reeds.
I waited for the leopard to appear but he didn’t show. The dogs rushed back in and the performance was repeated, with the leopard refusing to come out. After a couple more incidents like this, I tried walking around the edge of the reedbed, making noises, hoping that the leopard would attack so I could shoot him out in the open. He just growled threateningly but wouldn’t come out.
Not being able to see more than a couple of yards in the thick undergrowth, I didn’t relish the idea of going in after him. However, there was no alternative. “Janusz, I’m going in, just listen and if you hear me yelling come in and try to save me. Just don’t shoot me. Get down low and shoot over me at the animal on top,” I told him. “Hell, why don’t we just leave it; it’s not worth getting mauled,” he nervously replied. “No way, I’m not leaving a wounded leopard,” I said.
Meanwhile, the performance was continuing deep in the reed-bed; dogs barking, the leopard grunting and snarling. I snapped off the shotgun’s safety catch, got down on my left hand and knees and started gingerly crawling along the dark hippo path, almost trying to bend the gun around each corner. I wasn’t too happy as I still had bandages on my leg from the recent lion mauling. As I got closer, I stopped to have a breather and to settle my nerves. The noise was really impressive, and I knew I was about to encounter the enraged animal at close quarters. I would only have one shot; it had to be good!
I continued crawling and as I came to another bend I peered around it, pointing the shotgun down towards the sounds of the battle. The instant I saw the leopard, it also saw me, ignored the dogs and came straight at me from a few paces. I pointed the gun at its face and fired, fortunately stopping the furious animal dead in its tracks. The old shotgun had done its job again. The dogs immediately started attacking the dead animal and I had to yell and chase them off, otherwise they would have ruined the skin.
With a great deal of cursing and effort, we eventually got it out in the open and to the boat. I examined it to find where the first bullet had struck. There was a bullet hole slightly to one side on the point of the bottom jaw, which was broken. That is probably why the dogs managed to survive with only some claw gashes. Back at the house I weighed and measured it – it was 185lbs and exactly eight feet from nose to tail-tip. When I opened up the wound I saw that the bullet had broken up and hardly penetrated after it broke the jaw. The animal would have suffered greatly and starved to death if I hadn’t gone in and shot it.