We had a touchy situation. According to our Bushmen, we had three leopards feeding: a big male, a medium male and a female. This cat looked big on the branch and in relation to the zebra quarter. He had big shoulders and a powerful neck, but the angle was just oblique enough to obscure the certain evidence at the base of his tail. So we waited while Jamy studied the cat. I tried to keep my breathing even--not much chance--and clenched my suddenly sweaty hands to reduce the tremors.

Four eternities passed--we staring at the leopard, the leopard staring at us-- before Jamy said about what I expected: "It's a male, but I'm not certain it's the big male."

I nodded, studying the cat some more. I knew what the Bushmen had said, but they weren't here in this blind, and we were. This was not a huge leopard, but it was a good male in perfect light, in northern Namibia, where legal hunting ends a half-hour after sunset. It's not my place to go against a professional hunter; he has the license, and he takes the flak. So I leaned back slightly and whispered, "It's a nice tom. Don't you think we should take him?" Only much later did it occur to me that the pressure I was feeling was nothing compared to that bearing down on Jamy.

I don't recall the reply, but I felt the nod and leaned forward slowly into the rifle. Now I had to fight back the jitters, throw off that leaden cloak and do this. It was a very simple thing, really. The rifle was set nicely in a good rest, and I'd put the crosshairs slightly above the branch. My guess had been pretty close; all I had to do was muscle the butt down a fraction to bring the crosshairs up the backline of the foreleg, then right another fraction into the shoulder. Of course, those who think it's really that simple haven't tried to do it with a leopard's yellow eyes burning into their souls. The slim, trim Kimber was now a howitzer, and it took all of the strength I had to muscle the crosshairs into position; and strength I didn't know I had to keep them there. As I took a final breath and eased the safety off, I noticed I could now see the testicles clearly. People do weird things in the presence of a leopard, and see what they want to see, but there was no mistake here.

The crosshairs were steady on the shoulder, one-third up and in the back third, when the trigger broke. The rifle was a .375, a lot of gun for a leopard, but despite the recoil, I saw the cat propelled high and left, exiting the field of view at 10 o'clock. I didn't know if it was impact or muscle, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Releasing the rifle into its rest, I sat back in the chair and took several deep breaths.

Jamy commented later that my reaction was interesting. Most of his leopard hunters, he said, were immediately agitated, wanting to know if the shot was good, what had happened, where the leopard had gone. Jamy put this down to experience, and I let him think so. After all, I've done a feature-length DVD and co-authored a book strictly on leopard hunting, so, of course, I'm an expert. Except that I've taken few leopards myself, and I've never before seen a shootable leopard on bait in beautiful light like that.

I knew where the crosshairs had been when the trigger broke, but I also knew that cat had launched out of the tree--not collapsed on the branch, as I'd expected. I wasn't worried--yet--and now it didn't matter. Suddenly I was very tired, and I just wanted to sit for a few moments, catch my breath, and let that crushing pressure float away on the cooling air. We had the incredible luxury of daylight, and in due time we would find what we would find.

The leopard ascended before he descended, so it wasn't a fall but a trajectory. I had hoped we would find him at the terminus of that trajectory, but I knew better. I'd taken the safe shot, toward the rear of the shoulder, and I knew the big .375 bullet had passed through without extreme damage. We found the mark in the sand where he'd landed, and then we missed the line, going past him. Then the Bushmen were with us, and they started us over again, angling to the right. The leopard was right there, ten yards into the grass No pressure.