AHC#7 Leopard-Killing Leopard

The Leopard-Killing Leopard of Jonsyl Farm

By R Vaughn Gourley

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Bayaka orchestra

A Bayaka family.

Suddenly Ben jumped back and froze, startling everyone. “Ingwe!” he whispered. He was pointing directly at a clump of brush and small trees uphill and directly at the base of the dark granite cliff. Quickly regrouping, we all stared intently at the spot. It was then that I made out the familiar shape and colours of a leopard lying in the bush.

My old man sitting on the right taught me to shoot dogs.

How are we fellows to keep warm? Africanis pups, Magondi Tribal Trust Land, Zimbabwe, winter of 1977.

On July 22, 2008 my wife Karol and I flew from Las Vegas, Nevada, to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe for a second leopard hunting safari with my good friend, PH John Hunt of Georgia Safaris.

I had previously hunted leopard and plains game with John in October of 2007, successfully taking a young male leopard, a 59” kudu, a 5 ½” klipspringer, a huge Sharpe's grysbok, a respectable giraffe, a genet cat, and numerous baboon and bait impala.

John and I agreed that the October 2007 hunt had not produced the monster leopard I was looking for. John had told me about a number of “super cats” in the Gwanda and West Nicholson areas, including Jonsyl Farm, where we had hunted. John invited me back and I accepted.

After spending the night at John's Burnside home, John and I left early the next day for Jonsyl Farm. The drive south through Zimbabwe's lowveld was quite relaxing. We quickly passed through the towns of Gwanda, Colleen Bawn and West Nicholson, and were soon at the turn-off to our camp, which was located 10 miles west in the low granite hills.

After arriving at camp and settling in, we drove the short distance to the farm's reservoir and checked the zero on my rifle, a customized Winchester Model 70, .375 H&H, fitted with a Leupold 3.5 x 10 50mm illuminated scope.

By noon of the following day I had taken the four needed bait impala. We then drove to four separate locations on the 40,000 acre Jonsyl Farm, checking for fresh leopard spoor in areas where John and the trackers had recently seen cat sign, and hung the baits.

Up at the crack of dawn, and after a short breakfast, we left in the Land Rover to check the baits. At the last bait, we discovered fresh female leopard tracks close by. We also discovered that the bait had been hit the night before by a large hyena. This particular hyena appeared to be well-educated. It had taken a running start from a nearby embankment and jumped just high enough to grab one hind leg of the bait and pull it down to feed on. This surprised all of us, but since hyena was also on my want list, we decided to sit in the blind that evening for the thief.

The trackers and skinners set to clearing a shooting lane from the bait tree all the way back to the base of a small kopje 50 yards away. When they were finished, we checked the remaining baits and returned to camp for lunch.

Leaving camp late that afternoon we drove the short distance back to the hyena bait site and set up the portable blind. John and I then climbed in and sat down to wait.

At 5:20pm and with still 40 minutes of daylight remaining, we suddenly heard the unexpected.

Coming from behind and to the right side of the blind were the distinct sounds of a leopard sawing, coughing and grunting. “Vaughn, we have a leopard close by. It may be coming into the bait.” We watched and waited. The leopard never materialized. At 9:00pm that evening I shot the marauding hyena.

While loading up the hyena and preparing to return to camp, John decided that it would be easier for us to leave the portable blind behind and pick it up first thing the next morning during our early morning bait checking rounds.

At daybreak, we made our way back across the farm to first pick up the blind. As we neared the blind site, John suddenly stopped the truck. Spotting the spoor of a leopard on the road, we all jumped out to take a look. Inspecting the tracks, Ben, our head tracker, circled them with his finger.. “This leopard is huge,” John said.

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From the direction of his tracks, the leopard had come from a very large granite kopje not far away, had crossed the lowveld and finally walked onto the road. The tracks also showed that the leopard had passed no more than 30 yards from our blind before walking into the bush behind the hyena bait and finally heading off in the direction of a range of low granite kopjes on the opposite side of the farm. Retrieving the blind, the trackers re-set the impala bait. We then started back towards the remaining baits.

Before we had driven another 200 yards, the trackers suddenly began tapping on the roof of the truck cab, signalling John to stop. The trackers were urgently speaking to John in Sindebele. Bailing out of the Land Rover, John and the trackers quickly walked ahead of the truck. There, at the side of the road, they began to intently examine something. John motioned me to exit the truck and join them.

“Prosper has spotted the big leopard's tracks again right here at the side of the road. These tracks are very fresh. He must have circled back this way during the night. It also looks like he has killed something early this morning and very close by, because there is also a drag mark here on the road. Both the tracks and the drag are headed towards that kopje over there,” he said, pointing west in the direction of a very large granite hillock over 600 yards away.

“Vaughn, you are the luckiest man in the world today,” John said. “Go and get your rifle out of the Land Rover. We are going to track this leopard and find out where he has stashed this fresh kill. We think he's probably killed an impala. There's a chance that you might get a shot at this cat in broad daylight. Let's get moving.”

I quickly returned to the truck and slid the .375 H&H out of its soft case. With the four trackers out front, I fell in behind John as we started tracking the leopard across the veld, eventually reaching the base of the large kopje. There the trackers spread out and thoroughly searched the area for the kill. Unable to find anything, they located the leopard's spoor and the drag again. We zigzagged our way up the steep hillside, knowing that things could suddenly and quickly get a lot more interesting at any moment. Halfway up, the leopard's tracks passed through a rock-strewn area interspersed with a few small trees and some thick patches of bush. There we discovered the remains of a male impala.

“This is an old kill of his,” John said. “It's not the one that we are after.”

Continuing on, we finally reached the top. There we followed the leopard's tracks as they continued along a narrow ridge line and then down into a brushy, deep saddle. Starting uphill again, the tracks lead in the direction of huge granite outcropping which was covered with bush and small trees along its base. The area ahead was still under the early morning spell of darkness cast by the deep shadows from the massive outcropping.

Pushing on we slowly followed the spoor, making our way cautiously through the sometimes nearly impenetrable jesse in the direction of the outcrop's base. As before, the four trackers stayed in front, while I remained slightly behind John and to his right.

Urgently whispering to the trackers, John instructed them to slowly and carefully pick up some stones. Gently grabbing my arm to get my attention, John whispered, “At my signal, the trackers are going to throw rocks into the brush to try to get the leopard to come out and jump up on one of the nearby granite boulders. When it does, be ready to shoot if I tell you to.”

At John's signal, the trackers lobbed the rocks up into the brush. We all waited for the reaction. Nothing happened.

Believing that the leopard was still closely watching us, but just holding tight while waiting for the right opportunity to make a dash, we continued forward one deliberate step at a time, closing the distance. Our eyes and ears strained with each passing moment as we tried to either catch sight of a sudden movement, or hear the slightest sound that would instantly alert us to the cat's intentions.

Next came an exclamation from Ben. Turning to me, John quietly said: “Ben is saying that the leopard is dead!”

There, lying among the brush and small trees at the base of the cliff was the partially eaten carcass of a young female leopard, tucked tightly up against the base of the outcropping as if placed there by human hands. A large portion of her underside and chest had been devoured. Looking up at us, John remarked: “This is simply unbelievable. The big male leopard has for some unknown reason killed this female, probably no more than two hours ago, and has then dragged her all the way up here to feed on her. This kopje must be his lair.”

A serious discussion then ensued between John and the trackers as they considered the next plan of action regarding our unusual discovery.

“The trackers all believe that the big tom is close by and is watching us,” John said. “Ben is also saying, do not move the bait,” John remarked, referring to the female's carcass. John continued: “The trackers are further warning me not to put up fresh impala bait. Ben is convinced that the big cat is not through with her and will be back again tonight to feed. They are certain that if we don't leave her remains here, that the big male will not come back.”

The trackers then cleared a portion of the brush in the immediate area around the carcass. Securing the female's remains to a few small trees close by with poachers’ wire picked up earlier that morning. They then set to cutting a shooting lane back down and along the narrow ridge line to a place for the blind 80 yards away. After finishing, the trackers returned to the truck to retrieve the blind, the chairs and the gun rest. Setting up the blind, they covered it with the surrounding grass and brush, making sure that we had an unobstructed view. We repaired back to camp.

Slipping into the blind late that afternoon, I set the rifle in the rest, settling the cross hairs of the scope on the female's carcass. We then made ourselves comfortable as the trackers handed us our coats, water bottles and fanny packs and got ready to cover the door of the blind with branches and grass.

“U Vaughn Kakhuthi,” John said, smiling at the trackers.

“What did you tell them?” I asked.

“I told them Vaughn doesn't miss,” John grinned.

We listened to the sound of the Land Rover's engine fading into the distance as the trackers drove off to make camp for the evening to await the hopeful sound of a gunshot.

Shortly we began to approach the hour. The late afternoon shadows suddenly gave way to the pitch black African night. Time began to then tick on ever so slowly in the dark of the blind, until 8:45pm when John immediately became aware of crunching sounds coming from the carcass.

The female's remains still at the outcropping the next morning after finding the big male dead

The track of the big leopard. Spotting the spoor of a leopard on the road, we all jumped out to take a look. Inspecting the tracks, Ben, our head tracker, circled them with his finger.. “This leopard is huge,” John said

The leopard kopje

“He's come to feed on her,” John whispered. Shortly after the crunching sounds started, they suddenly stopped. He was gone.

“Something's not feeling right to him,” John whispered. “He's a cunning old cat, and he didn't get that way by being stupid”.

But within a few minutes the big cat was back again feeding. “I think he's very nervous about the female being tied down.” Finally at around 9:15pm John grabbed my right shoulder, signalling that the leopard was staying put and feeding comfortably.

Within a few seconds he gently pushed me forward in the darkness, into the rifle. I listened as John quietly readied his large Sure Fire lamp. Staring intently ahead into the blackness of the scope, I waited for John's last signal. John gave me three deliberate taps on the right shoulder, the final sign that the big flashlight would be coming on at any time now.

Suddenly with an exploding flash of bright light, the Sure Fire was on, instantly illuminating the female's carcass 80 yards away, and showing the distinct outline of an enormous male leopard standing directly over her remains. The leopard quickly raised his head, looking directly into the brilliant light emanating from the blind. The intense beam of the Sure Fire made his eyes glow a deep crimson red. I quickly adjusted the cross hairs of the scope on a specific rosette behind the leopard's left shoulder, as John urgently whispered, “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!”

The .375 H&H roared, catching me by surprise and slamming me back into the chair. The muzzle flash, combined with the brilliant light of the flashlight, instantly illuminated a huge cloud of dust created by the muzzle blast directly in front of the blind making it impossible to see ahead.

At the shot, I was sure that I had heard the distinct “whack” of the bullet, followed by what sounded like rocks rolling down the kopje.

“Did the shot feel right?” John asked.

“It felt good to me. I'm sure that it was a solid hit.”

“Good. Did you hear the grunt come from the cat right after the shot?” he queried.

“No, I didn't,” I replied. I was sure that the leopard had dropped stone dead, and had rolled part way down the kopje.

Within 20 minutes the four trackers were back at the blind.

“Vaughn felt good about the shot, however, I heard a low grunt come from the cat right after the shot. We could have a big problem on our hands.”

“Vaughn, you remain here at the blind with Prosper and Freedom. I am going to take Ben and Ndlovu and look for the leopard. We may run into trouble with this leopard, so if you hear any screams, wait until the attack is completely over and then fire a shot into the air. That will scare the leopard off. It then should be safe for you and the others to come looking for us.”

I stood outside the blind with Prosper and Freedom, while the trio began to scour the area looking for the cat. Eventually, the three of them climbed to the very top of the large granite cliff where John shined his flashlight down into the thick brush and shadows looking for any signs of the leopard. They continued throwing rocks into likely areas, but there was no response. After an hour, the three of them finally returned to the blind, empty handed. I was just sick. I was sure that the shot had been fatal. But it was too dangerous to continue the search until morning light.

My mind began to race. I thought of hyenas and other creatures of the African night that would certainly be prowling the area looking for a meal. A dead leopard would certainly fit the bill, and not much would be left by morning if something found him.

During the two-mile drive back to camp, we were all uncharacteristically quiet. I sat in the cab of the truck with John, replaying the shot over and over again in my mind until it seemed like I had done it a thousand times.

Back at camp, I undressed and climbed into bed next to my wife, bone tired from the day's events. For the next few hours I tried to get some sleep, but my mind wouldn't let go of the excitement, nor of the growing fear and doubt.

Joy. Finding the big leopard the next morning

Wayne Grant, author of "Into The Thorns" and PH John Hunt's chance meeting in Victoria Falls at the old Victoria Falls Hotel after the leopard hunt

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally dozed off, but was startled awake by John's voice. “Vaughn, please hurry and get dressed. We must be up on top of the kopje by daybreak”.

Gathering our gear and rifles we quickly walked to the Land Rover in the darkness where the trackers and skinners were already assembled and waiting. The mood among everyone was upbeat, but tempered with soberness, due to the potentially dangerous task that lay ahead.

Driving back to the area we parked near a game trail leading to the base of the kopje and made our way quickly back up the kopje to the blind. Once there John organized the seven trackers and skinners for the search. John asked me to again stay at the blind and wait.

For the next 40 minutes I stood all alone at the blind while John and the men methodically searched for the leopard; everyone anticipating an imminent charge. John carried his Winchester Model 70, .375 H&H, while the trackers and skinners were armed with nothing more than a couple of traditional hand axes, their belt knives and the few rocks and stones that they had managed to pick up along the way.

Suddenly Ndlovu jumped back and shouted: “Hokoyo Ingwe iyaphila!” He had stumbled right on top of the leopard lying crouched next to a granite boulder - stone dead. Reaching Ndlovu, John shouted back up to the blind. “Vaughn, we've found him!” Upon reaching the leopard, I could see that he was even bigger than I had imagined.

After receiving congratulatory handshakes and high fives from everyone, I gently ran my hands over the enormous cat's beautiful rosettes, marvelling at just how soft his hide really was. He had been a cunning and crafty old tom, and a worthy adversary. Further examination revealed that the 300 grain Nosler Partition bullet had entered behind his left shoulder, exiting near his right mid-section. The bullet destroyed both lungs.

After taking some photos, we prepared to tie him to a freshly cut carry pole with bark rope fashioned by the trackers.

As they finished tying him to the pole, Prosper and Ben both turned to John and me and spoke in Sindebele. “Vaughn, they are saying that he is both big and old!” John grinned. “What a magnificent cat! Congratulations and well done! And, what a most unusual story!”

Back in camp, John and the trackers then measured the leopard. The big cat measured an honest eight feet in length, and had a 23 inch neck. The base of his tail measured nearly 12 inches in circumference. John then asked Jonsyl Farm owner, Ivan DuPlessis, who had also joined us in the celebration, to retrieve his farm scales so we could weigh him. The leopard weighed 170 pounds. His boiled skull later measured in over 17 inches.

We also retrieved the remains of the female before leaving the kopje. Prior to the shot, the huge male leopard had managed to eat another portion of her carcass before finally settling down and giving me my one lucky opportunity. John and the trackers estimated the young female leopard to be a year-and-a-half old.

To this day, no one has ventured a solid explanation as to why the enormous male leopard chose to kill the female and eat her. Ivan DuPlessis was convinced, however, that this was a rogue leopard that had killed other leopard on his farm before.

As far as we know, this story is unique in the annals of African leopard hunting. But whether or not it is doesn't really matter to me. Because one thing is certain; this leopard hunt turned out to be the greatest and most incredible hunt of my lifetime.

The author, John and the two leopard back at camp

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