In this month’s Field Notes, enjoy some beautiful imagery that brings the magic of Bumpy to life.

– Angela Sheldrick

By now, most of you are probably familiar with Bumpy's origin story. I certainly wasn’t anticipating a tiny hippo to land in our midst that morning — but then again, we have learned to expect the unexpected.

Bumpy was rescued by the Kenya Wildlife Service in early May, after they received reports of an orphaned hippo calf at Oloiden Resort in Naivasha. They arrived to find a tiny, days-old calf nestled beside his mother's lifeless body, desperately nudging her with his blunt little nose. Based on the level of decomposition, he had been trying in vain to rouse her for at least 24 hours.

Hippos are very territorial creatures. Infanticide is not unheard of, with dominant bulls killing a rival’s offspring to prioritise their own bloodline. Breeding rights aside, mother hippos often secret their newborns away from the crowded chaos of the herd, a heated environment where fierce fights break out and then are forgotten as quickly as they began. This is all part of hippo society, but can be fraught for a small, fragile calf. The injuries on Bumpy’s mother suggest that she died in an intra-species fight — very likely protecting her baby’s life.

It was a logistically challenging water rescue, and the KWS team did a heroic job. Our SWT/KWS Rift Valley Mobile Vet Unit drove the little orphan down to Nairobi, where he was entrusted to our care. The name ‘Bumpy’ fell into place quite naturally; looking upon him, we just felt it fit.

Given the ordeal he had been through, we wondered if Bumpy would arrive quite wild, but the opposite proved to be true. He was just happy to be ‘home’ — for he very quickly made us his home. After Bumpy spent a cosy first night slumbering in the crook of Keeper Simon’s arm, Taru flew him down to Kaluku, where he would continue his journey with us.

Kaluku is an ideal place to raise an orphaned hippo. It sits at the heart of riverine Tsavo, dominated by the Athi River. Unlike seasonal rivers, of which there are many in the landscape, the Athi flows year-round. It is home to several resident pods of hippos — pods that, thinking long-term, Bumpy may reintegrate into in the fullness of time.

However, it will be a long time before we are ready to consider that step. Bumpy is only three months old, having come to us within his first week of life — but already in that time, the wobbly, grief-stricken orphan we rescued has blossomed into the undisputed king of his own little kingdom. He pads confidently between his cosy stable, where he spends his nights, and his personal pool, where he spends his days.

True to hippo form, Bumpy adores water. He also takes any opportunity to showcase his aquatic prowess. If he sees someone approach his pool, he dives into an adorable and utterly captivating routine. As he's gotten bigger and stronger, his swimming choreography has become even more elaborate, featuring an ever-changing dance of porpoise dives, barrel rolls, and ballet across the pool floor. One of his favourite moves is to float on his back like an otter, with only his round belly and flapping feet visible above the water.

Every burst of action is followed by a good, long rest. Bumpy often naps with his body fully submerged save for his head, which he rests on his Keeper's foot, or else tucked between his Keeper's legs. If he wants a deep, undisturbed slumber, he sleeps underwater — hippos have an incredible reflex that allows them to float to the surface for a breath of air, then sink down again, without ever waking up.

Bumpy is absolutely hooked on his Keepers, Festus and Jackson. He follows them like a small, rotund shadow, chattering away in his noisy hippo grunts. If he's in his pool, he peeks his eyes and ears above the water to closely monitor their movements. If he's outside, he can usually be found nestled between their feet or napping on one of their laps.

Bumpy isn't the only orphaned hippo at Kaluku. Musumbi, who was rescued nearly a year before him and is about 18 months his senior, greeted the new arrival with little more than a disinterested glance before plodding back to his own pool. Over the past two months, that aloofness has softened into a polite, though distant, interest from his older counterpart.

We have given Bumpy and Musumbi their own personal pools, so as to avoid any territorial tension. While they remain happily separate, they do occasionally boop noses. Unlike elephants, which form multi-generational family herds that raise their young communally, hippo pods are territory-based and can be quite transient. Neither Bumpy nor Musumbi crave each other’s company; they have their own space and their own routine, and seem quite content with their current situations.

But that’s not to say that Bumpy isn’t a social butterfly — friendships have come from elsewhere in the Kaluku family. Gruff, Bibi, and Moshi the buffaloes have become thoroughly smitten with Bumpy. Buffaloes are wallowing creatures, so it's not entirely surprising that they would gravitate towards his pool paradise. Gruff, who loves attention from any source, has grown especially affectionate towards his new hippo friend. Pips and Twiggy, our resident giraffes, often find a reason to plant themselves near Bumpy, quietly observing his aquatic life.

And then there's Wangalla, Kaluku's littlest elephant. She usually only has eyes for her Keeper, Misheck, but has clearly developed a soft spot for Kaluku's littlest hippo. They make an absolutely adorable pair. Wangalla doesn’t quite realise that Bumpy isn’t an elephant. Mimicking how her ‘big sister,’ Korbessa, behaves towards her, she treats Bumpy like a younger sibling to fuss over.

While Bumpy may be bemused by the elephant’s antics, he always likes to see what she is up to. In the early morning, they often loiter outside the stockades together while their Keepers prepare for the day ahead. Wangalla tries to soothe him with trunk touches (another trick she learned from Korbessa), while Bumpy bumbles around. One day, little Wangalla — who doesn’t yet have full command of her trunk and can’t even dust herself — attempted to toss red earth over his rotund body. This was a step too far for Bumpy and he made a beeline for his pool.

If Bumpy’s days are for action, nights are for rest. After enjoying his evening bottle al fresco, he needs no encouragement to toddle back to his stable for bed. We have set up a soft mattress parallel to his Keeper’s bed, topped by a plush pillow. Bumpy usually does some sort of a dive atop the pillow, then shuffles around a bit to get comfortable. Before long, his button eyes close and he drifts into a deep sleep.

A few short months ago, Bumpy was found alone and frightened. Today, his days are full — splashing in his pool, sleeping by his Keeper’s side, and drawing an ever-growing circle of friends to his little corner of Kaluku. His story with us is just beginning, but already he has made our lives so much fuller.