In the hunting world, few animals earn the status of legend. But one leopard in Kenya’s Hell’s Gate region did just that—and then some.
In 1969, professional hunter Robert von Reitnauer guided famed Weatherby Award winner Frank Hibben on what would become one of the most talked-about leopard hunts in modern African history. The cat they encountered in the volcanic shadows of Mount Longonot reportedly measured an astonishing 8 feet, 5 inches—earning a spot in the top five Rowland Ward records at the time.
And then… it disappeared. Not the leopard—he was taken—but the record vanished. Whether due to clerical oversight, a misfiled date, or Hibben’s own preference not to list it, no one knows. What we’re left with is a story too remarkable to ignore, and too mysterious to resolve.
A Valley That Hissed and Growled
Hibben’s original write-up of the hunt appeared in Sports Afield in 1970 and was later excerpted in Dianna Rupp’s book Great African Trophies. It reads like a dispatch from hell—describing volcanic vents spewing steam, sulfur-streaked rocks, and a leopard “as big as a lioness” drinking from a geothermal puddle.
The setting was a place the local Masai called The Valley of Evil Spirits. Between steam geysers and the constant hiss of Earth’s breath, it was a natural fortress, and the perfect hideout for an apex predator who broke every rule in the book.
A Leopard Too Smart to Hunt
Hibben and Reitnauer weren’t the first to try. Nine safaris had come before them. Only two hunters ever saw the cat. This leopard didn’t take bait. He didn’t revisit kills. He made off with adult cattle and full-grown zebras, then vanished.
The Masai feared him, respected him, even tried to kill him when their cattle were raided. But he persisted. As one Masai elder put it, the cat had lived in the canyon “since I was a boy.” Truth or legend, the point was clear: this wasn’t just a leopard—it was a ghost.
Thinking Like the Hunted
After weeks of failed bait attempts, including zebra, gazelle, and even warthog, Hibben and Reitnauer made one final gamble: ostrich. They placed the massive bird carcass in a gnarled tree, obscured it with branches, then set up a blind beneath an ancient hunter’s cave marked with rock art.
When the leopard finally fed—once, then twice—it seemed their gamble had worked. On the final evening, as shadows fell and the cliffs hissed, the leopard appeared.
Hibben took the shot.
The leopard leapt and disappeared.
They followed the blood trail in silence, not knowing whether they’d missed or merely wounded a cat that could kill a man in seconds.
And then they found him. Dead. A perfect shot. The ghost of Longonot was gone.
A Legacy Larger Than Any Skull Measurement
Today, that leopard’s skull may or may not appear in Rowland Ward. But what matters more is what he represented: the rare combination of intelligence, power, and wilderness cunning that defines the truly great cats—and demands the very best of the hunter.
Hibben would later write, “He was a giant of his kind, possessing the intelligence of a man. The Valley of Evil Spirits will be a different place without him.”
We at Cat Hunter couldn’t agree more.
Why This Story Matters
This isn’t just about an animal. It’s about ethics, patience, reverence, and the long game of fair pursuit. The Longonot leopard wasn’t taken by luck or bait alone—but by respect, strategy, and grit.
At Cat Hunter, we tell these stories not to glorify the kill—but to honor the animal, the land, and the rare men who do it right.
Stories like this aren’t just worth telling—they’re worth preserving.
Subscribe to Cat Hunter Magazine and help keep the legacy alive: cathunter.com/product/subscribe
Credits:
This article was inspired by the legendary hunt documented by Frank C. Hibben and originally published in Sports Afield (Oct. 1970), later excerpted in Great African Trophies by Dianna Rupp