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Gents: John Sharp related the following story to me. It holds special interest to me because i had every intention of bagging this guy for myself. It's a good eye opener for shot placement and a goo primer on follow-up methodology on leopards:
Place: Malangani
Time: 21:00
Client: Angel Zamora Estrada – Guadalajara, Mexico.
Caliber: .300 Win Mag
PH: John Sharp

I named this Leopard “The Road Warrior” - for many years I have followed his tracks along a road for as far as 20kms at a stretch before losing them as he turned off into the bush.

I have been hunting this particular cat for four years. I believe he was caught in a trap in the tribal area a while back (he has a penchant for goat from time to time) and this is what made him skittish. His right front foot was bigger than the left side (probably due to damage from the trap) and used to scuff the earth when he walked – this made his tracks easy to recognize. Because he would only hit a bait once and then move on I have been documenting his movements over the past 2½ years so that I could attempt to anticipate his next port of call and outsmart him.

On June 7th he had hit one of my baits and practically finished a leg and a shoulder of Kudu – and then left. I knew where he would go next and sure enough, we got another hit. In the soft river sand at bait #2 it was difficult to say whether it was him or not. On the 8th nothing had fed but the cat had been close and watching. I decided that we would sit on the evening of the 9th.

Hearing Badgers feeding is a common sound at Malangani, and this night was no exception. At around 18:30 a Badger entered the scene but only fed for ten minutes and then all went quiet – most unusual for a Badger banquet. I suspected the Leopard was near but had to live with the silence and an over-active mind. It was cold and the moon was almost full – conditions could not have been better. The time was heading for 21:00hrs and my listening device had been silent for a long time already – too long, and I was starting to lose hope. Then I heard the cat approaching and leaned silently forwards into my binoculars. I could not believe my eyes as this monster slid plainly into view, bathed in ghostly moonlight. I warned Angel to get ready but the cat was nervous and was moving in and out of my sight picture. My heart was thumping in my chest with adrenaline and the thought that he might not stay to feed. He eventually started feeding and was plainly visible to Angel through the scope on my Leopard rifle, reticule slightly illuminated. I turned up the rheostat on the red light ever so slightly for insurance. The shot shattered the silence and the cat dropped, growling horribly, and then took off. We heard it growling once more about 50 meters to the left of the bait and then silence.

Once the vehicle arrived we started the follow-up. Quinn Kloppers (who had been filming), Isaac, Khevin and I took the trail, hearts thumping with that fearsome high that you only get from a continuing flow of adrenaline. The bush was getting progressively thicker as we slowly edged forward but we found no sign of blood. I didn’t like this at all. Something was not right so I decided to pull the lads back – someone was going to get badly hurt. We returned to camp and spent a sleepless night before returning early in the morning.

Once on the trail again we did find small amounts of blood but not the usual trail of a cat well hit. We also found the place where he had lain in wait for us and I realized that I had made the right decision to pull back the previous evening – someone or all of us would definitely have been badly mauled. Rounding the side of a granite kopje we heard a growl from a cave above us – another surge of adrenaline. We climbed cautiously up through the thick bush towards the mouth of the cave. As we reached the mouth Isaac shouted as he spotted the cat bounding up the rocks above us. Quinn had a clear view and loosed a shot from his 3”12-guage but the cat never flinched. I jumped left to get a clear shot and dropped him off the rock with one shot from my Binelli, 3 ½” 12-guage loaded with 00-Buck. I am still amazed that he did not come at us. The .300 mag had broken his right shoulder, gone through the meat of his chest and lodged in his left shoulder – no organs were hit.
So ended the reign of “The Road Warrior” – he had over the years expanded his personal territory to well over 80,000 acres and was ousting other big males from the area. Hopefully things will now return to normal.