Altering Reality

I love the way that photography can stop time, converting a split-second moment into an eternal freeze-frame. Not only does it give us an opportunity to properly appreciate something that we would most likely have missed in real time, it can also give the photographer the ability to subtly alter reality. Normally, when I think about freezing time, I envisage something like an elephant splash containing thousands of droplets of water all visible and stationary at once, however it was only when I remembered the preceding moments before this photo was taken that I realised I had inadvertently captured something that felt very different to what had actually occurred.

This female leopard had been dozing at the foot of the rain tree when she was startled by a passing herd of elephants, kicking up the dust just a few metres behind her. Acting on instinct alone, and with her eyes as wide as yellow saucers, she leapt up the tree in two lithe bounds before racing across the branch and coming to an abrupt halt no more than a couple of seconds later. I captured a few shots in that short time, but this one stood out because she appeared so relaxed, nonchalantly tip-toeing along the branch without a care in the world, while casting me a side-ways glance - a very different scenario to the one that actually occurred. 

The effect was completely accidental - neither the shot before or after gave off the same impression – but I found it a useful reminder of the power of a single photograph to shift our perception of reality, even if it is only in a subtle way. Maybe that's why they say 'the camera always lies'.

Cat Fishing

This image was almost two years in the making but turned out very differently to my original vision. When I first heard that a leopard had been seen fishing in the flowing Savute Channel at night, I converted a camera body to infra-red in the hopes of capturing it. The fishing window of opportunity is very narrow however, numbering only a few weeks in the entire year and was only made possible when the receding flood funnels the catfish through narrow stretches of shallow water. Poor rains the following year looked set to scupper my chances as instead the channel, which had only been flowing for five years following a 30 year dry spell, was once again disappearing fast.

The catfish had nowhere to go and were trapped in a handful of pools in the river-bed, so I spent several weeks rotating between drying pools waiting for one of the resident leopards to take advantage of their vulnerability. Eventually I was rewarded with this female jumping into the muddy pool with instantaneous success, remarkably doing so in broad daylight.

Not only is the behaviour remarkable by itself, it has been learnt by the oldest female since the channel started flowing and has been subsequently taught to her two litters of offspring. Last year's average rains both locally and in Angola on top of the preceding drier years has meant the flood is set to once again not reach the channel in 2016. Given its history and with the dusty river-bed now bone dry, this mercurial tract of water may not flow again for many years after the lifetime of these enigmatic cats, so it is anyone's guess if and when this unique behaviour may be repeated.