Issue 2025.02

Capturing an Elusive Cat

Eastern Mongolia Manul female shortly after leaving the den at sunset. The mother would routinely leave the den to hunt voles to eat and to bring back to her kittens. Sony A1, Sony FE 600mm F4 GM OSS. Exposure: 1/250 sec., f/5, ISO 1000.

↑ Eastern Mongolia Manul female shortly after leaving the den at sunset. The mother would routinely leave the den to hunt voles to eat and to bring back to her kittens. Sony A1, Sony FE 600mm F4 GM OSS. Exposure: 1/250 sec., f/5, ISO 1000.

How I Photographed Manul Cats in Mongolia

Words and Images by Sebastian Kennerknecht

It’s safe to say that I am mildly (ok, wildly) obsessed with cats.

Over the last 15 years, I have traveled to the far reaches of the planet photographing wild cats, large and small. My aim: to tell their stories through the lens of conservation and generate the awareness and action that will help these species thrive. 

On some of my more recent assignments, I have documented the rapidly disappearing clouded leopard habitat due to extensive logging in Borneo and shown the inspiring coexistence of shrimp farmers and fishing cats in Thailand. 

Eastern Mongolia Three-month-old manul kitten licking lips after a failed hunting attempt. Though not as successful as its mother, I watched this kitten catch two different voles over the course of 30 minutes. Sony A1, Sony FE 600mm F4 GM OSS. Exposure: 1/1000 sec., f/5, ISO 640.

The manul, also known as Pallas’s cat, has long been a species I’ve hoped to spend time photographing. This distinctive-looking small cat has ears set low on its very flat face, resembling a Scottish Fold house cat. These features allow it to survive the harsh winters of its native habitat, and more recently, have contributed to its viral reputation as “grumpy cat.” 

The Planning

Determining where to photograph the manul was the first challenge: these roughly house cat-sized felines have a massive range, found from the Caucasus east to central Asia where they primarily predate small rodents and birds. To help make my geographic plans, I first looked at general political stability and safety across that range, which narrowed the options. 

I then looked at the overlapping range of competing species, like the Eurasian lynx and snow leopard, both of which are likely to decrease manul densities and make them more wary, thus more difficult to photograph. And so, I landed on a target destination: Mongolia.

Then, I had to think about the “when.” Like all of my work, my goal was to photograph the manul while keeping any disruption to the wildlife at an absolute minimum. However, unlike my field assignments, this location had to be appropriate for our Cat Expeditions clients, without putting any undue pressure on the cats. 

The open steppes of Mongolia, with its vast grassy hillsides, would allow the cats to see us approach from a significant distance, and unsurprisingly, hide accordingly. Not great for photography. In the winter, males would be out fighting for territory; more visible yes, but under a great deal more pressure from extreme weather. 

As a photographer, I have always prided myself in ethics that prioritize the well-being of wildlife over the image. In this case, I had to ask myself if it was even possible to photograph the manul without disturbing them? 

The Solution

The solution came by working closely with local manul biologists and considering the overall ecology of the species. When manul females give birth to kittens, they do so in rocky outcroppings, which are quite limited across the Mongolian steppe. 

In late spring and early summer, any of these rock piles has a high possibility of a female manul utilizing it as a protective base from which to give birth, raise kittens, and go out and hunt for meals for their young. The best time to find the cats became clear. 

Our final challenge: how to photograph such a shy species with minimal disturbance. This same group of biologists had been successfully observing and photographing manul families using camouflaged hides. Building on the great ideas of this team, I continued to iterate on my own custom blind and staging process to help make us even more concealed, and hopefully get the shots we were after. 

Eastern Mongolia Five-week-old manul kittens at den, waiting for their mother to return. I was shooting with such a long lens, I had to stop down to ensure both cats’ faces were in focus. Sony A1, Sony FE 600mm F4 GM OSS. Exposure: 1/1000 sec., f/8, ISO 640.

Knowing that the cats would be hunkered down inside their rock-pile den in the middle of the day, we chose this time to enter the blind. Like any blind work, staying completely silent inside the blind was imperative. Patience is one’s biggest asset. 

The Result

With my 600mm f/4 lens slightly poking through an opening in the blind, it was time to wait. As the sun’s heat began to dissipate and afternoon turned into evening, a little kitten suddenly gathered up the courage to peek through the pile of rocks, the beginning of a beautiful sighting. Its tiny round eyes were filled with curiosity for the world around it, including the hide.

Time continued to build the kitten’s confidence, and it emerged further, showing us more of its tiny body. The first kitten’s adventurousness was infectious and its siblings soon followed suit. A second head popped up. The cuteness factor was off the charts and I was smiling from ear to ear. 

With time, even more manul kittens emerged. This litter had a total of four tiny balls of fluff. Once they were completely comfortable and relaxed, the siblings started to play, swiping at each other’s hind legs, pouncing on necks, rolling over each other – an obvious training ground for these tiny hunters.

My cards were chock full of sweet, playful kittens, but we had yet to glimpse mom. An adult female’s features are more pronounced, and I wanted to highlight these unique characteristics. 

Based on my own research and that of the local biologists, I knew she would be out hunting voles (small rodents that are related to hamsters), both for herself and her kittens, catching around 12 voles a day, at least. Though I couldn’t go search for her, I knew she would eventually come to the den to bring food to her young.

Suddenly, the four kittens got visibly more agitated. I could see in their postures this was excitement, not fear. My angle was obscured and I never saw mom enter the den from its backside, but then, she was there. 

The kittens frolicked all over her, ecstatic in her presence. One of the kittens shadowed her closely while its siblings played and practiced their hunting skills in the grass nearby. I felt so honored to witness these intimate moments without disturbing them.

As she walked towards the hillside’s ridge, she turned, looking straight at me. I let the shutter fly with that anti-climactic mirrorless silence, though my heart was beating loud enough to make up for it. Years of research and effort had finally come together in this moment, and I couldn’t have been more excited.

See more of Sebastian Kennerknecht’s work at pumapix.com.