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The rangers at Londolozi call Manana 3:4 because of her
spot pattern above the whisker line. It is by this
method that all the leopards at Londolozi are
identified.
This particular morning, several game drive vehicles
have watched her unsuccessfully hunt impala.
It is getting hot and the game drives return to the
comport of the luxury lodges where the guests are
accommodated.
I know that "Manana's" last meal was a monitor lizard
and that was 2 days ago. Even with the heat, she may
continue hunting.
I sit down in the shade15 feet from Manana. I have done
this many times. I draw energy and inspiration by being
in the presence of this incredible leopard.
The film crew who are working with me, move the vehicle
away to a distance of 50 metres. Steel, noise and
exhaust fumes clear the air, now it is just me and the
leopard.
Last week I was in a tigress's den. Today I am sitting
with a wild leopard in the shade. Life seems very good
right now.
After a short rest, Manana gets up to continue hunting,
I move on foot with her.
She hesitates, staring at me, I have never hunted with her on foot before. She moves purposefully. This is not a stroll to mark territory, this is a hunt for food.
I move 15 to 20 feet behind her right shoulder, using the same technique
that I use for hunting with Tigress Julie.
I remind myself that Manama is 16 human years old or 112
years in leopard terms. Her lithe body, low to the
ground, slips easily through the thick bush.
I am tall and flat footed, with a high centre of gravity. I
tangle, I stumble, I snag. Her athleticism makes me feel
pedestrian to say the least.
At one point, she stares at me, as if to say "you will
have to do a lot better than that".
I make a mental note to contribute to the hunt if I can.
Any tortoises or monitor lizards, I will catch and give
them to her in exchange for the rare privilege of
hunting with her.
I carry no firearm, just my camera and a hunting knife.
As a kid, I had the rare privilege of being trained by
some great hunters. My father, Boyd Varty, Harry Kirkman,
reputed to have hunted over 1000 lions, Winnis Mathebula
the master tracker, Elmon Mhlongo, George Adamson, and
the Ndorobo Maasai bow and arrow hunter, Karino Sukuli,
to name a few.
Why do I get the impression that hunting with Manana, I
am in the presence of greatness. This leopard has
literally thousands and thousands of successful hunts
under her belt. She is a living legend and I will soon
discover why.
For a kilometer we hunt. She always stops close to a
tree or a bush where the dappled light merges with her
coat and she becomes invisible. I try my best to
do the same.
We abandon the film crew and vehicle. The noise, the
cameras, the exhaust fumes intrude upon what is becoming
a very private thing. Mine is the hunt for knowledge,
hers is the hunt for survival.
After a kilometer, she stops to rest in the shade of a
small thicket. I sit in the heat outside the thicket.
Manana gets up and makes space for me to move into the
shade. I am moved by her concern. It is a conscious
gesture on her part. Within touching distance human and
leopard sit in a thicket waiting and thinking.
Does she remember when I saved her life and those of her
two cubs some years ago? Is she subconsciously repaying
me for that day when I treated her and her cubs for
sycoptic mange? How complex is her reasoning? How long
ago does she remember? Will we ever be able to talk to
leopards? These are the thoughts that cross my mind as I
sit close to her.
Suddenly she gets up, walks straight towards me, brushes
against me, the hunt is on.
Manana uses all the tricks, she elevates on termite
mounds and fallen trees. She stops and listens, her eyes
scan the thickets, her ears swivel, all her senses are
at maximum power. Her pre-preparation is deliberate and
thorough.
I realize that she is communicating with me via her
tail. If she curls it up, I must stop. If she flicks it,
there is game ahead and is she flicks it fast the game
is close. If she turns her head and stares, then I am
doing something wrong and must rectify. Manana is
talking to me with a complex array of signals. I try my
best to interpret. There is no question she is the
teacher and I am the pupil.
Suddenly the impala are there in front of us,
moving towards us down a game path. Manana's tail whips
in rapid succession, I freeze and crouch in the bush,
she turns her head, her eyes drill into me, "get lower",
they command, "lower still" she orders, I lie
flat behind her. Her eyes are riveted on the approaching
impala, her concentration is absolute.
The impala stops 5 feet in front of the crouched
leopard, some six sense warns it. Three species, no more
than 20 feet apart, impala, leopard and human are frozen in an
moment of time.
Then I hear the approaching sound of the jet bringing
the tourists to Londolozi. The jet is descending to
land, it is coming in low over our heads. I curse the
jet believing it will upset the hunt. Manana sees it as
an advantage, she will use the sound and confusion to
make her strike.
As the jet sound reaches its maximum, the impala are
distracted and Manana launches straight through the bush
going for the throat.
I jump to my feet, whipping the camera left and right,
hoping to catch the action. Has she caught it, is she
throttling it? I run north, west
and back east. Then it dawns on me, I am simulating a
confused impala. I could become the prey.
There is nothing, no leopard, no impala, nothing!!
I sit down in a semi state of ecstatic shock. I go
through the chain of events. Did my presence on the hunt
cost Manana a kill? What could, what should I have done
differently?
In her younger days she would have caught the impala. I
have filmed her drop onto impala and bushbuck from
trees, I know what an incredible athlete she was.
Then the realization dawns on me. A magnificent wild
creature, a 16 year old leopard had taken me for 3 hours
of my life on an experience I will never forget.
She has entered into the spirit of the hunt. She
had nothing to gain by taking me with her.
Manana communicated with body, tail and eyes. I had
tried as far as possible to obey her commands at all
times.
She had taught me much about leopards hunting in a short
space of time.
Later she circled around, catching a young impala as the
herd came to drink at the waterhole. All her experience
condensed into the hunt.
The hunting experience with Manana, reinforced only too
well the impact we place on hunting leopards when we
follow them in jeeps. How do we lessen the impact of
several tons of steel, with excited guests, cameras,
radios, and spotlights following a hunting leopard? I
have no answers.
What I do know is that in the field of trust and
communication, whether is be with leopards, tigers,
elephants, whales, dolphins, etc. we are in our infancy.
Manana had spoken to me is a language with her eyes,
ears, body and tail. It is a highly complex language to
say the least.
There is no doubt in my mind that as we evolve, we can
in the future learn from this language and communicate
with leopards.
In the meantime, Manama had given me 3 of the most
inspiring and exhilarating moments of my life.
Tread lightly on the earth.
JV
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Tread lightly on the Earth
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