A cool mist hangs in the air. The smell of ozone is all around. Slowly, she comes into focus lying gracefully yet alert beneath the leaning acacia tree. Your eyes meet for a moment. She returns to watching her two youngsters who alternate scaling the tree to rip flesh from the lodged carcass. Their muscles ripple beneath their dew-soaked coats as they ascend the acacia. Although just 20 meters away, the leopards ignore your vehicle. The cubs contently continue eating. Their mother, with a full belly, watches from below.
The tree is familiar to them. They’ve used it before. The mother leopard has killed a wildebeest or perhaps it’s a topi. It’s hard to tell. All that remains is a carcass with the hide turned inside out. The last remaining flesh is being torn away by the cubs. Time stands still. There is only you and the leopards. Chui is leopard in Swahili.
