Why? It’s simple maths really. When you’re on the menu for leopards, sticking together isn’t optional. Speaking of safe places, we like our space open but not too open, you know what I mean? Lowland dry forests, savannas, and scrubby shrub lands are the kind of spaces we like. Just enough cover to vanish when things get tense. Do you know that some people think we’re slow? Try keeping up with us when we bolt through dense scrub. You’ll be staring at empty space and wondering what just happened.

We survive by staying sharp, sticking together, and never ignoring a strange sound in the bushes. It’s the burden of being delicious. Leopards are always our main concern. Silent, patient, and annoyingly good at what they do. But they aren’t alone. Those sneaky Crocodiles try to ambush us by pretending to be harmless logs in the waterholes. So we keep an eye out at all times and when we spot something, we bark! Loud. Sharp. No mistaking it. Sounds a bit like a dog actually. Very effective though. One call and the whole herd reacts. Picking a time to be out is also quite crucial for safety. Mornings and evenings are our sweet spot. Cool air, softer light, fewer surprises. That’s when we can do some relaxed grazing. We love grass… the fresh and tender type if we’re lucky. But we aren’t picky. Fallen fruit? We’ll take it. Leaves? Why not! Sometimes the langurs help by dropping half-chewed snacks from above. Of course, it’s not all peaceful chewing and posing. You’ve seen the antlers. Majestic, yes. Decorative? Hardly. When mating season kicks in, the males don’t exactly exchange polite nods. It’s clashing, pushing, wrestling. The forest echoes with it! All that effort, just to impress a doe... is it worth it? Oh absolutely. Anyway, that’s more than I planned to share. The light’s fading, the herd’s moving, and I’d rather not end this story as someone’s dinner… goodbye!