Matriarchs are the leaders and nurturers of elephant society, but bulls are their emotional equals. They are guardians and guides — creatures of profound intelligence and loyalty.

These are just a few of their stories.

– Angela Sheldrick

So many special bulls dot the history of Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, but Burra and his remarkable bond with Mweiga will always have a treasured place in my heart.

We rescued Mweiga in 1999. It soon became apparent that she had a congenital heart defect, which only became more pronounced as she grew older. While we knew she would never live to old age, we made it our mission to give her a wonderful, sheltered life for the time she had with us. For ten years, there was not one day that Mweiga was without the company of friends. Even as her peers grew up and reclaimed their place in the wild, someone always took it upon themselves to stay back with her.

Burra was one of those friends. At the time, he was only six years old — an age when many of his peers were exploring their independence. But Burra felt a pull to Mweiga, and remained by her side like a bodyguard. He was intensely loyal and protective. When wild elephants approached, the young bull would rush forward to evaluate them. Only after he was satisfied they presented no threat to Mweiga would he escort her over to them.

As the Voi Keepers noted at the time, “It is interesting to find that the bulls are equally as caring of Mweiga as the females. This month it has been Burra who has been with her 24 hours a day. He remains behind to keep pace with her, when the others hurry ahead having decided to go elsewhere; he peels off with her to return to the stockades in the evening, leaving all the others having fun out in the bush, and he quietly watches her take her ration of milk without attempting to snatch the bottle from her.”

Burra remained by Mweiga’s side, day and night, for the final weeks of her life. He was there on the evening of 22nd December 2007 when, after a wonderful day with all her friends, Mweiga’s heart suddenly stopped. Burra desperately tried to lift her, but once he understood that she was gone, he escorted the Keepers back to the stockades before joining the ex-orphans.

The ex-orphans didn’t return for the rest of the month — for Burra, the anchor that had been keeping him at Voi was no longer. While we mourned Mweiga’s passing, it was such a balm to know that she felt loved and supported for every minute with us. Burra, meanwhile, has completely reintegrated back into the wild. We saw him out on the Dika Plains one recent wet season, amongst a huge herd of elephants and clearly thriving.

And then there are the many, many stories from our Ithumba Reintegration Unit. Ithumba is an imposing place — endless skies, craggy cliffs, dense Commiffera bush, and big elephants. But it wasn’t always that way.

When we established our Ithumba Reintegration Unit 21 years ago, the remote northern sector was a very different place. Water access was scarce and a history of poaching still weighed heavily on the minds of wild elephants. As we worked with the KWS to improve the landscape, installing desperately needed water infrastructure and improving security in the area, we wondered when — or really, if — the elephants would make their return with time.

Ithumba's revival began with a single wild bull. He appeared out of the bush like a lone scout, initially keeping his distance with a healthy caution. As time passed and his trust in us grew, he became a permanent fixture for three whole months. He felt so comfortable in our presence that he even took to slumbering outside the stockades. Those familiar with elephants will know that they sleep remarkably little, because they must constantly be on high alert. The fact that he saw us as a safe place to rest recumbent speaks volumes.

We nicknamed the bull Rafiki — ‘friend’ in Swahili. From this single friend, a steady stream of elephants soon followed in his footsteps. The bulls came first, scoping out the area and making sure it was secure. Only after they had confirmed reports did the females and their babies come, too. Slowly but surely, Ithumba came back to life as an elephant haven of the north. I was there just the other day, in the presence of about 120 wild bulls who had gathered outside the stockades for water.

In fact, the Ithumba teams bond with Rafiki has blossomed into a widespread friendship with Ithumba’s wild bulls. An amazing trust has developed over time — these elephants are as wary of people as any other wild animal would be, but have embraced this select group of Keepers into their society. Building this trust didn’t happen overnight; it took many years to earn.

But now, they even come to us in times of need. Two years ago, for instance, a wild bull appeared at our Ithumba Unit and calmly walked into a stockade. Despite the bond we have with Ithumba’s elephants, this behaviour was highly unusual, so the team went to investigate.

They found he had been struck in the ankle by an arrow. Once the bull was satisfied that his message had been received, he exited out of the stockade and positioned himself beneath a nearby tree, where he quietly waited. We mobilised the SWT/KWS Tsavo Mobile Vet Unit, who treated his injury. Joint wounds can have lethal implications, so this intervention very likely saved his life.

One might forgive the bull for feeling reticent about returning to a place with people— after all, he had been wounded by human hands. However, he clearly understood that we fall into a special category and offer sanctuary. Our ex-orphans act as incredible messengers in this regard and clearly spread the word among their wild friends. For instance, this particular bull arrived with ex-orphans Zurura and Kasigau. He continues to visit us regularly, just to say hello and appreciate the help he received in his hour of need.

Now that it is entering its third decade, Ithumba’s first babies are growing into big bulls of the north. It is remarkable to reconcile the magnificent creatures they have become with the tiny orphans we rescued years and years ago. Bulls like Kenze, Rapsu, Tomboi, and Challa are in their early twenties now, leading entirely independent lives, but they still make the pilgrimage home every so often, checking on the humans who raised them and the orphans who are still in our care.

And that is what is so incredible about bulls. It is a well-documented fact that many of our female ex-orphans return home regularly — to share the news of a new baby, or simply to enjoy of the Keepers and dependent orphan herd — but bulls feel the same pull of nostalgia.

We were reminded of this a few months ago, when bulls Jotto and Musiara returned after exactly a year’s absence. These boys have a special place in our hearts: Both were absolutely tiny when rescued — Jotto in 2016, Musiara just a few months later — and so we had the unique privilege of watching them grow up from true infancy.

The years went on and these pint-sized little chaps blossomed into increasingly capable young bulls. As is typical of orphans rescued at a very young age, Jotto and Musiara took their reintegration journey gradually, tiptoeing into their independence at a pace that felt right for them. Last year, after much experimentation, they well and truly flew the nest. Their last visit to the Ithumba stockades was in April 2024, but we knew they had taken up residence further afield, as our teams spotted them some 30 kilometres from Ithumba.

Fast forward a year. Right on schedule, the Keepers led the dependent orphans down to the mud bath for their 11 o’clock milk feed and swim, as is their daily routine. Imagine their surprise when they found two familiar faces waiting for them: Jotto and Musiara, relaxing by the pool as if they had never left! Despite all the time that had passed and all the wild they had experienced, they still remembered their old routine to the hour.

This was clearly nothing more than a nostalgic check-in with their old family. It was the thick of the rainy season and Tsavo was a blanket of emerald green, with food and water aplenty. The pair remained around Ithumba for a few weeks, making sure they caught up with everyone they needed to catch up with, and then drifted back into the wilderness together.

In reality, the reputation of bulls as solitary creatures is largely undeserved. You usually find them in fluctuating groups of two, three, or even more. They look up to their elders and clearly enjoy the company of friends. While babies are raised by the matriarchal herd, bulls have their own nurturing part to play. They act as mentors to younger generations and guardians of the vulnerable. We have often found young orphaned elephants in the company of big bulls, who have assumed the role of protector.

Bulls play a pivotal role in our Umani Reintegration Unit. This is a unique herd, anchored by Murera, our physically compromised — but incredibly capable — matriarch. Grievously maimed by poachers as a baby, many thought Murera had little hope for survival. But she beat the odds in every respect and turned into an absolute triumph, leading our orphan herd and giving birth to Umani’s first wild-born baby.

However, because of her injuries, Murera will always be physically compromised and walks with a limp. Aware of her own limitations, she chooses to sleep in the stockades every evening, appreciating home comforts and the security it affords. Murera’s peers, who are now leading wild lives, still choose to link up with the dependent herd nearly every morning, so they operate as a family unit. The females — Lima Lima, Sonje, Zongoloni, and Quanza — are the driving force behind this mission, but they are always joined by one very special bull: Mwashoti.

Mwashoti is fiercely devoted to Murera. Although he feels the tug of independence, he also refuses to leave her orbit. Their relationship goes way back: Like Murera, Mwashoti experienced unconscionable suffering at the hands of humans. He was rescued in 2015 with a poacher’s snare slicing into his foot, cutting down to the bone. It was a long and painstaking road, but he eventually made a full recovery in our care.

The moment Murera met Mwashoti, she adopted him as her own — she understood all too well the trauma and physical pain he endured and made it her mission to help him heal. Murera is a formidable elephant and commands absolute respect, but will always have a soft spot for her first ‘child’. She now has a biological daughter of her own, Mwana, who looks up to Mwashoti like a big brother.

All our Umani bulls are enormously loyal to their female family. Jasiri, Faraja, Alamaya, and Ziwa are now leading fully wild lives, but they continue to return home for regular check-ins. Ziwa has been ensconced into an all-female wild herd, who are terribly protective of him and vice versa.

We see the same bonds across all our orphan units. In Voi, Laikipia — who grew up alongside Mweya and Edie — continues to spend much of his wild life with them. Challa, one of our most stately Ithumba bulls, dotes on females like Mutara, Kinna, Loijuk, and Nasalot, and their wild-born babies. Even in the Nursery stage, some young bulls take on the role of ‘gentle uncle’, acting more like nannies than boisterous boys. Toto, at Kaluku, and Taroha, at the Nursery, are two examples of this.

It is an incredible privilege to be in the presence of nature’s giants, let alone to have such a special bond with them. Elephants constantly astonish us, but perhaps it is bulls — and the many, many layers beneath their stoic, formidable appearance — that hold the greatest surprises of all.