North Chinese Leopard (Panthera pardus japonensis)

[Ngala]

Leopards of Northern China - PART 3
By Song Dazhao
Photographs by Song Dazhao & Wang Buping
Translated by Trevor Padgett(CAN)

Snow Pursuit
The Taihang Mountains are not only an arduous place for apex predators, such as the leopard, to survive, it is also difficult for humans– even those equipped with off-road vehicles. One winter, while attempting to set up camera traps deep within leopard range, my colleagues and I met with an impassable road en route to our base camp. The snow had fallen thick and heavy over numerous days and the roads were too steep and too winding for even our off-road vehicles to manage. Unfazed, we set off on foot, bounding up the steep mountain slope with cameras and gear in tow, leaving our now helpless vehicles alone in the vast blanket of white. Following the ridgeline we eventually approached our target valley and started to keep track of the trail ahead, in search of our study area. But in the clean untouched snow, a more interesting story played out before us. At our feet was an increasingly diverse array of other feet, or at least what those feet had left in the fresh snow. Had we driven, the story told in the snow may have been missed. But walking, taking the time to slow down and concentrate on the land itself, gave us an opportunity to learn more from the land that the leopard calls home.

Pressing on through the snow, we reached a fork in a ravine and decided to take a break from the burden of our packs. The impassable road had added distance to our day, and we were well deserving of a break. Though it was winter, the sky was a crisp blue, barren of clouds, so the sun beat down on us all day. On this winter day, we were ready, ironically, to get a chance to cool down. Settling down on some snowless rocks, we each faded away into our own inner thoughts as we slowly ate and rehydrated. It was not long into our rest that, as if as a reward for our efforts, we all noticed paw prints. They were decidedly not ungulate or ocelot; they were unmistakably the prints of a large cat – the leopard!

A leopard’s fresh footprint, especially one in mud, is quite a valuable clue, indicating that there was a leopard passing by no long ago.

*This image is copyright of its original author

In silent euphoria, we all gazed at the prints, then at each other, then back at the prints. We congregated beside a clear set of prints and were shocked by something else that accompanied them. The clean white snow gave us more stories about the ocelots, the deer and the leopards and also provided a canvass on which color could tell a story. In this case, the color was crimson red and was dribbled upon the white ground in step with the prints of the leopard. This story involved blood.

Bloody paw prints mean one of two things: an injured leopard or a successful hunt. Summoning our best amateur blood splatter analysis skills, we excluded the possibility that the leopard was injured. The blood must have been from fresh prey hanging from its mouth. This made sense – usually female North Chinese leopards make the kill and, instead of consuming it, return to the den to share the meal with her cubs. This provides food to the cubs and also teaches an important childhood lesson for the kings- or queens-of-the-mountain-to-be. We packed up and cautiously followed the tracks in hopes of photographing a leopard with prey or of a mother feeding her cubs their first fresh kill. Either would have awarded us great insight into the life of the leopard. However, upon reaching an exposed rocky outcrop, the snow and tracks disappeared. The sun had melted the snow away and with it went our hopes of finding the leopard.

Usually volunteers place infrared cameras on trees or rocks. These cameras do not disturb the animals and their high-storage batteries guarantee their endurance in the wild. Thus, during recent decades, such cameras are more and more frequently used in wildlife monitoring.

*This image is copyright of its original author

Returning to our original task, we made it to our study area and got to work setting up camera traps. The silence was eerie, with only the crunching of the snow beneath our feet. In this silence, with the sun pouring down on our backs, weretrieved memory cards from cameras we had set up earlier and fixed new ones to the trunks of trees.

Then, suddenly, from the top of one of the terrace cliffs we heard a hoarse roar. It was a short but distinct sound beacon that cut through the empty silence of the mountains. It must have been a leopard, somewhere on top of the cliff, peering down and watching us working on the ground below. Wherever it was, it remainedinvisible, proving that even in winter the leopard is a master of disguise. At the sound, each of us immediately forgot about the cameras and fumbled through our packs for binoculars. The silence seemed amplified as we scanned the land above us – the sound of crunching snow was replaced by the sound of our hearts beating – but the leopard remained invisible. Just as we lowered our gaze in defeat, another roar filled the air. This second one was louder than the first but it was not followed by a third.

An infrared camera captured a leopard attracted by another camera. The sound of shutter must have aroused the leopard’s curiosity.

*This image is copyright of its original author

Later, after viewing the pictures captured on the memory cards, we found that this region is home to a female, and that she is a mother. We are lucky to have pictures of not onlythe mother, but also her cubs. Was it her blood stained tracks we followed? Was it she that beckoned us from above as we worked to set up cameras? I like to think that it was and that we were not only taking turns tracking each other, but also taking some time to get to know one another. Working in these mountains is a dream, leopards or not.

Aside from the rare dreary days of winter where the cold bites you to the bone, spending so much time in the mountains is an absolute pleasure –northern China is an exceptionally beautiful place. After the break of the winter, the warmth and wetness of spring causes the hillsides to erupt in colorful blooms. Then summer brings the peak of animal activity and soon the forest is awoken and filled with life. Even the winter, with its blanket of untouched white snow, is a calming sight to behold.

Recently,on a hot summer day in 2012,I was sitting on the ground taking my lunch break. With my back against a tree, I ate slowly in silence when I was ratcheted out of my daze by a noise coming from behind me. I was surprised and excited, for as far as I knew only leopards wereactive at that time of day. As the noise became louder, I froze in place – the desire to see a leopard was playing off against the fear of seeing one so close and alone – I waited. As I waited, the noise grew, a crescendo of snapping sticks and crunching leaves until finally I could hear it breathing. In what must have been a second, but felt like a year, I waited.

Then a head poked out of the brush, dispelling all my eagerness and fear. It was decidedly not a leopard. With its distinctive white and black striped head, I realized that it was nothing more than a curious badger. It must have been attracted to my food and it continued to approach me. However, when I threw a small piece of my bread towards it,the badger seemed to have no interest. Instead, it walked by the bread, and by me, and continued on its way.

Continues later..........   Reply