There are moments in life that remind us of just how fragile, but resilient, nature can be. For Kiara and I, one of those moments came in the form of a tiny African tree squirrel. While he has many little nicknames, he is and always will be Thatcher to us.

It all began in March when Selina mentioned strange little cries coming from the roof of her room. For days, she could hear the faint, desperate calls of a baby squirrel, until one afternoon, she found him on the floor, cold and alone. His mother was nowhere to be seen. We took it upon ourselves to save and raise him.

Thatchy was only about four weeks old when we found him, so incredibly small, with bright but uncertain eyes, his fur still thin and his movements shaky. He fit perfectly in the palm of Kiara’s hand, tail and all. We didn’t hesitate. Something in that moment stirred a quiet instinct. Triggering that unspoken connection between people who live close to the wild and the creatures that share it with us. We knew we had to give him a chance.

Let me tell you, we quickly learned that raising a baby squirrel is not for the faint-hearted. The days blurred into nights of feeding every four hours, warming a little bean bag so his tiny body could stay heated, and making sure he always had gentle hands to hold him. He needed more than just food, he needed comfort, warmth, and presence. And somehow, between the chaos of lodge life and the rhythm of the bush, he became part of our Leopard Hills family.

As the weeks passed, Thatch grew stronger. His movements went from clumsy and unsure to taking playful leaps (creating extra stress for Kiara), his small squeaks became confident chatter, and his curiosity seemed to know no end. Teaching him to eat solids was both a challenge and a joy, watching him nibble for the first time felt like watching a child take its first steps. Every little new moment or behaviour filled us with pride and awe.

From the beginning, we agreed on one thing: Thatch would be raised to live wild and free. We wanted him to grow up knowing the trees, not the walls, the wind, and not just the hands that fed him. So, when the time came, we opened the door and let him decide for himself.

He didn’t go far.

Now that he’s grown, Thatch has made his home in the roof of my room, the same way his story began, an irony definitely not lost on us. He roams freely through the trees and the staff area, living the wild life he was meant to have. But every day, without fail, he still returns. He finds us, jumping down from the branches, chattering with excitement, ready for a scratch behind the ears or a quick cuddle before running off.

There’s something profoundly grounding about that. Thatcher has taught us both so much. For myself I’ve learned that love isn’t about possession. It’s about giving freedom and still being chosen. In a place where life and nature are so deeply linked, this little being has become a symbol of resilience, and trust. Every time we see him scampering across the staff garden or popping up on Kiara’s veranda, I’m reminded of how lucky we are to witness the small, miraculous bonds that form between us and nature.

Thatch may be a squirrel, but he carries the spirit of something much larger: A reminder that kindness and care can go far beyond one simple choice.

The first rains had barely settled the dust when we set out on our morning bush walk. The air was thick with that earthy scent only Africa knows — damp soil, sun-warmed grass, and the promise of new life. Around us, the bushveld was still mostly brown, brittle twigs cracking underfoot, but every so often, a hint of green betrayed the quiet awakening of spring.

We paused often, listening to the faint chatter of queleas and the distant call of a hornbill. Then, just off the path, something caught my eye — a glimmer of soft lavender among the dry stems. At first, it looked like a burnt stick rising from the ashes, a remnant of last season’s fires. But as we drew closer, it transformed before our eyes — a miracle of resilience.

It was Xerophyta retinervis, the Baboon’s Tail. From its charred, lifeless stem burst a crown of delicate, star-shaped flowers, each petal a soft violet kiss against the wilderness. It seemed almost impossible — beauty born straight from what once looked dead.

We stood there in silence for a moment, humbled. In that single bloom was the story of the bushveld itself — harsh, unforgiving, yet endlessly renewing. As the sun crept higher, catching the petals in its golden light, I couldn’t help but smile. Spring had arrived, quietly but unmistakably, through the courage of a single flower.

As we set out on our morning game drive, our goal was clear — to find a leopard. Luck was on our side when we stumbled upon not one, but two. The male, Euphorbia, rested high in a magnificent Sausage Tree along the banks of the Sand River, where he had hoisted his impala kill. Below him, the female, Maxiabanci, watched intently from the ground, her golden eyes never leaving him.

While we sat there absorbing the magic of the Sabi Sand, three Bateleur females appeared on the scene, circling curiously before attempting to scale the tree to reach the carcass. In a swift display of agility, Euphorbia dragged his prize even higher, settling among the thinner, more precarious branches—well beyond the reach of the less adept climbing lions that had started to approach.

The air soon filled with tension and sound: Deep, guttural growls and snarls reverberated through the morning stillness, like the revving of powerful V8 engines. The lions made several bold attempts to reach the tree, but eventually realized their efforts were in vain. One by one, they climbed down and walked off in defeat, leaving Euphorbia high above, victorious and unbothered, guarding his hard-earned prize as the morning sun crept higher over the Sand River.

After being away for over a year, returning to the Sabi Sand felt like coming home. At Leopard Hills Lodge, the staff welcomed me with incredible warmth, making me feel like part of the family right away. Their kindness and professionalism truly set the tone for this new chapter.

In just seven days, I’ve seen seven different leopards — and each encounter was unforgettable. It’s been a powerful reminder of the beauty and magic of the Sabi Sand. The drives along the Sand River have also been a highlight, offering breathtaking scenery and extraordinary wildlife moments. Being back among the Big Five has been incredible, and every game drive feels like a new adventure.

Overall, it’s clear that Leopard Hills is the place to be.

The combination of exceptional wildlife and the amazing team here makes it truly unforgettable.

If you’re interested in experiencing an awe-inspiring South African safari, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with our reservations desk at book@leopardhills.com.

Alternatively, click here and make use of the quick and seamless online booking process and start planning your ideal vacation today.

We look forward to welcoming you to Leopard Hills Private Game Reserve.