Spot luck as mother and cub focus on survival

Visitors to my gallery on the Yorkshire Wolds are often just as interested in seeing the photographs that I have taken as the paintings I have produced, especially of the wildlife I have seen overseas. And I’m frequently asked if I will “squeeze” someone into my suitcase the next time I travel abroad.

Recently I have begun leading tours for those who are serious about sharing such experiences and last month I took a group to Samburu National Park in Kenya.

Elephants are the main draw here, especially after the family groups that roam this region were made famous by several TV documentaries.

It was wonderful to watch and photograph these gentle giants and one of my favourite things was to see them as they crossed the turbulent waters of the Ewaso Nyiro river, which cuts through this arid landscape.

Yet on one occasion I was diverted by something even more special. As we were watching a herd of elephants drinking, a radio call came through from one of the local guides we use to tell us of a leopard sighting.

Good sightings of leopards are rare so we quickly diverted downstream to locate it. We left the lush green ribbon of vegetation which snaked alongside the river and headed towards an outcrop of rocks.

It hadn’t rained here for four months and the landscape was parched and dusty. From quite a distance away I could see the perfect silhouette of a leopard against the early morning sky. I had a slight feeling of déjà-vu as I’d watched a leopard here just a year ago.

The rocks were a good lookout post for the leopard. From this vantage point it could spy on unsuspecting prey such as antelope. Our driver positioned our 4x4 vehicle on the far side of the rock to catch the early morning sunlight.

As the leopard came into view, it lay down on a rock in front of us and began to growl softly. It was a female and I suspected that she was calling a young cub, and wondered if she had stashed it somewhere amongst the boulders.

We waited patiently for some time as she continued to call. A moment later she turned abruptly as if she had been startled, and gazed intently at something. It was just a pair of hornbills and as they scattered she returned to calling.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a seven or eight-month-old cub came bounding along to greet her. The cub rubbed its own body along the length of its mother’s before twitching and curving its tail around hers.

The female licked her cub as it passed through her front legs before settling down beside her. The female then jumped off the rock and into some long grasses, closely followed by her cub.

It was a perfect miniature of its mother. We watched spellbound as they romped across the ridge line of the hillock, disappearing and reappearing as if they were playing hide-and-seek.

The cub bounded up on top of a rock at the end of the outcrop and looked down for its mother. As she passed beneath, it ambushed her.

After a little while the adult leopard clearly began to tire of the games and after the cub had leapfrogged over her repeatedly, she swiped it down in a flurry of paws, spots and tails before pinning it down on the ground.

The cub stopped its antics immediately, its paws suspended in the air as it momentarily froze. The female then turned and slunk off into the bushes.

The cub chased after her and also disappeared and we feared that this was the end of a very good sighting.

Our driver made to set off but as I looked up at the dramatic ridge line made by this mountain of boulders, I wondered if the female might appear along its top. It would be wishful thinking but I asked the driver to stop and wait anyway. And wait we did – for quite some time in fact. But sure enough after some time she appeared on the skyline on top of a huge boulder and sat down to survey the landscape beneath her.

The cub came bounding along too and greeted her again, rubbing its body against hers and wrapping its tail round her head like a spotted necklace.

By now the adult female had had enough of the cub. She didn’t reciprocate its affection and merely let out an annoyed growl. Her gaze was fixed intently instead on the ground beneath her. Somewhere near us she had spotted some prey.

Her posture changed and she picked her way stealthfully down through the boulders until she was level with us. She paused and squatted down low – there were a pair of dik-diks beneath some bushes. Dik-diks are Africa’s smallest antelope. They are the size of our brown hare and are a favourite meal for leopards.

Before she could edge her way closer, the less skilful cub came bounding down the hill. It was following her exact line of descent and making so much noise that everything including the dik-diks became aware of their presence. The dik-diks broke cover, barking their alarm call as they went.

The female stood up to watch her “meal” run away and turned to glare at her cub, twitching her tail in annoyance. She walked to the track that our vehicle was on and passed by with her cub following and headed into some thick bushes.

It seemed to be the end of the sighting so we turned our attention to a herd of elephants that had been grazing nearby. I was just starting to take some photos when I looked back to see the female leopard again.

She was scanning the area from the vantage point of a small dead tree. Photographs of the elephants would have to wait. I took a few shots of her up in the tree before she spotted a small herd of gerenuks. Gerenuks are one of Africa’s strangest antelope – a long-legged mammal with an unfeasibly long neck which stands on its hind legs to feed on leaves fractionally above the height of most other grazers.

She headed directly towards our car and used our vehicle as cover to aid her stalk. Sadly she was spotted by one of the herd who snorted an alarm call which sent all the others running for cover. She had been unlucky again – but with two mouths to feed she would have to keep on trying.

Next May, Robert will be leading a wildlife-watching trip to Galapagos on a private yacht. To join him see details on www.robertefuller.com or ring 01759 368355.