Where the grass whispers, a leopard rests
Text and photos by Alexandra George
This fly-in camp in the Okavango Delta, a Kwando property celebrated for its classic safari ambience, is one of those rare places where you can encounter all three of Africa’s great cats within a single safari.
The leopard’s realm
We were privileged to see six different leopards during our time at Pom Pom, including two newborn cubs hidden deep in the bushes. Most safari-goers dream of glimpsing just one leopard, if they are lucky. To encounter this elusive creature felt like an extraordinary gift from the Delta. One night a leopard padded silently down the track in front of our vehicle, on another night drive we watched a courting pair, their movements a mix of power and playfulness in the moonlit bush.
On another morning drive we spotted a leopard resting in the long grass, verdant after the rains. This leopard radiated quiet strength, her rosettes glowing golden in the filtered light. She seemed at ease yet alert, a predator perfectly attuned to her Delta kingdom — every flick of the ear and slow blink reminding us of her wild poise. Our guide, Gofa, whispered she might be the mother of hidden cubs, and as we watched her yawn, stretch and groom herself languidly, that thought added another layer of wonder to an already unforgettable encounter.
Masters of disguise
On another drive we paused in the shade, where a leopard lay hidden beneath a tree, watching us with quiet ease. Blades of grass veiled her golden eyes, her rosetted coat so perfectly camouflaged we almost missed her entirely.
A quiet afternoon under the trees
Sam, our tracker eased the vehicle around dense foliage into the thicket beyond, where we found another leopard stretched out in the undergrowth, two tiny cubs pressed against her side, nursing, suckling in the shadows. The photograph is far from perfect; the moment, however, was flawless. To glimpse a leopard with newborns is a rare privilege, a reminder that much of the Delta’s magic is seen only briefly, half-hidden, as if the wilderness means to keep its most precious treasures veiled.
Two leopard cubs nursing in the thicket — not the best photo, but an unforgettable glimpse into their hidden world.
Dance in the moonlight
Leopards are solitary cats, but in courtship they turn the night into a performance. On one night drive, we were privileged to witness an extraordinary moment: our spotlight caught a pair flirting in the grass, their low growls and prowls, part courtship, part contest.
The leopardess circles while the male feigns indifference
Playful nuzzle turns courtship into contest.
For almost two hours, the male reclined in lazy indifference while the leopardess in heat circled him – brushing close, nuzzling and nipping in playful insistence. He resisted; she persisted. Theirs was a tryst written in shadows and moonlight.
Two lion brothers in Pom Pom guard the remains of a buffalo, resting side by side after two days of feeding.
Bond of brothers, power of lions
On our last morning drive we came within 15 feet of two huge males, Sekoti and his brother—the resident kings of Pom Pom. For two days they had fed on their buffalo kill, and now lay side by side beneath the mopane, faces pressed together, guarding the last remains: only the head was left. Their sheer size was striking; when one brother rose, his massive frame and glowing rusty mane brushed the branches as he surveyed the thicket. Yet what stayed with me most was their closeness. In the quiet bond between these brothers lay a reminder that lions, too, live by love, loyalty and kinship.
A lion brother rises from the buffalo feast
It’s hard to know whether the lion would have paid us any attention if we had tried to shadow him. But standing there in the open, we felt the full force of his presence. This was one of the biggest lions I’ve ever seen, and I had no wish to test his mood. Better to admire his power from the safety of the vehicle.
Bravado of youth
During our February stay at Pom Pom, lions were a constant presence from dawn to dusk. One early morning we found a pride of nine subadults brimming with energy. As the day broke, they stirred to life — sparring in twos, collapsing in tangled piles, or sitting apart with the watchful poise of hunters-in-training. Their antics carried all the carefree bravado of teenagers.
A young lion hones his claws against the rough bark, instinct sharpening alongside strength.
On another morning we spent hours with them again: three sprawled together while one pawed at a log; others scratched at a tree trunk or tumbled in the grass. Two lionesses lay nearby, one upright while her companion’s head just peeked from the grasses. Another pair of lions strolled through the tall grass, muscles taut, ready to vanish into the bush at any moment. This was a different kind of power from the heavy, full-bellied males — youthful, alert and no less commanding.
Who needs toys when you have a log?
Golden hour with a mother-to-be
Grace and power in stillness – a pregnant cheetah pauses on her rocky throne
A memorable sighting was a pregnant cheetah resting on a rock mound, her belly heavy with new life. For over two hours she lay in the late afternoon light, a yawn flashing her teeth in a reminder of her power even in repose. When she rose, her spotted coat rippled with grace as she moved through the golden grasses, pausing to study a tree as if weighing a climb.
A pause beneath the tree, her gaze lifted skyward – stillness woven into the golden evening.
At one point she rolled onto her back, paws in the air – a rare flash of playfulness. As evening fell, she followed a narrow game trail through the grasses, then with a final glance melted into the palms and scrub – a fleeting glimpse of motherhood on the horizon.
From rock to tree to grassland, her languid stroll carried her into the Delta’s embrace —
leaving only this final glimpse.