A Sri Lankan Leopard is reflecting on life

Ahhh stretched along a broad branch… this is the life. These branches aren’t just comfort, they’re vaults. Prey hauled high into their arms stays safe and mine alone, away from annoying scavengers. Also, up here, I have the perfect view. The jungle below moves like a living mosaic. Deer freeze at the tiniest crack of a twig, monkeys fling their gossip across the canopy, and humans… oh, humans. They roar along in their noisy machines, necks craned, hoping for a glimpse of me. They call it luck when they see me. That’s because they don’t have patience. A sudden hush, a bird’s alarm call, the faintest snap… if they kept an ear out for those, they would spot me… maybe, for I am both hidden and undeniable. The jungle talks if you know how to hear it. Alarm calls are gossip, breadcrumbs leading straight to me. Paw prints in the mud, drag marks in the grass… I leave them only for the observant. The hurried and the careless? They miss everything.

I am the shadow. My rosettes blend into sunlight and shade until I am nothing and everything at once. Solitude suits me. A tree becomes a palace, swaying with the breeze as I bask in the sun and wait for dusk. I love the times when the sun hangs low in the mornings and late afternoons. That light makes me invisible. Even at midday, if I want, I can vanish. I can leap six metres without even thinking, and land wherever I like. Tricks like that make life… fun. Mischief is my favourite way to have fun. Dropping silently from a branch to scatter deer or stir monkeys into a flurry… hilarious! Some wonder why I don’t roar. Roaring? Me? Ridiculous. Too much drama. My rasping saw-call says enough. Mostly, I prefer silence. Silence listens. Silence never betrays. Up here in the treetops, cloaked in rosettes and shadow, I watch the forest move beneath me. And I know… it is mine. Every inch, every whisper, every secret.

The photo captures a perfect moment in Yala National Park. A leopard resting high in the branches, relaxed and surveying the forest below. Most visitors would have missed it entirely, mistaking the dappled coat for leaves and shadow. For the naturalists at Mahoora Tented Safari Camps though, such encounters are not just chance; they come from years of patient watching, listening, and reading the subtle rhythms of the wild.