We are best known for our work with orphaned elephants and rhinos, but our family is so much bigger and more varied. This has always been true, even during my parents’ early days in Tsavo, decades before the Trust’s inception. While David grappled with the prodigious threats of the era — not to mention the inherent challenges that come with a landscape like Tsavo, which in those days was a sea of endless, uncharted bush — he always made time for all creatures. No animal was below his regard; the life of an ostrich was just as important as an elephant.

With Daphne by his side in Tsavo, their eclectic herd of orphans continued to grow. My childhood was dotted with an assortment of wonderful, wild creatures that my parents rescued in Tsavo — Baby the eland, Rufus the rhino, Bunty the impala. For me, these little creatures were friends and playmates; we stood eye-to-eye and had so many wonderful adventures on the slopes of Msinga Hill.

Today, our Kaluku Headquarters reminds me of those early days. Sitting on the doorstep of Tsavo East, buffered by the Athi and Mtito Rivers, it is the ideal base for our field operations — and also a perfect place to raise a lovely assortment of orphans who need a supportive place to grow up and ultimately reclaim their place in the wild.

Over the years, we have rescued a wonderful patchwork of creatures, including zebras, impalas, buffaloes, ostriches, hippos, waterbucks, bush babies, Egyptian geese, kudus, dik-diks, giraffes, warthogs, oryx, ground and tree squirrels, even a Verreaux's eagle-owl. Everyone pitches in: I’ve nurtured everything from Egyptian geese hatchlings to serval cats in my sitting room; my sons regularly re-route their aerial patrols at the request of the Kenya Wildlife Service to pick up a little orphan in need of rescuing. Our Operations Manager, Frans, is incredibly talented with animals and has turned his house into a little nest for our smallest creatures.

All our Keepers have an innate way with animals, but Peter has something special. He comes from the community neighbouring Kaluku. When he joined us in 2019 as a gardener, we quickly realised that we had a unique talent on our hands. He has a magnetic quality with animals — a radiating kindness that they instantly respond to. Peter has also been such an important bridge, sharing what he has learned about wildlife and conservation with his community.

‘Peter’s herd’, as we affectionately refer to them, is constantly changing. As especially long-lived and slow-to-mature animals, orphaned elephants and rhinos are unique in how long their rewilding journey takes. Most creatures grow up relatively quickly, hearing the call of the wild as they reach maturity. We offer both a place to land and a launchpoint; new rescues find the support and care they need to thrive, and when they are ready, a seamless transition to a wild life among their kind. This is the beauty of Kaluku’s location, with the great Tsavo ecosystem unfolding before it.

No matter how little or long his little charges remain with him, Peter’s dedication is absolute. He knows the quirks and preferences of every orphan. The milk formula varies depending on an orphan’s species and age. Peter personally mixes and distributes each bottle — which is a fascinating feat of choreography to behold! All the animals jostle round, nudging and nosing to be closest. Unfazed, Peter focuses on feeding whomever is on deck while a zebra mouths his arm, a buffalo suckles his trouser leg, and a giraffe peeks over his shoulder. As wonderful as it is to be at the epicentre of this adoration, it could also be quite overwhelming — but Peter never loses his cool.

In fact, this choreography is a constant, daily dance. All the little animals adore Peter and keep very close tabs on him! At the moment, our zebras, Brutus and Bombi, are the most enchanted. If they know Peter is around but are unable to find him, they start braying through the bush in search of him. The buffaloes give him a slightly longer leash, but keep careful tabs on his movements.

We recently rescued a little eland who was found alone by Big Life Rangers. Roan went to collect him in the Super Cub and delivered him into Peter’s care. Richard, as we named him, is still recovering in his stable — so for now, Peter brings the friends to him. When it’s milk time, Peter gathers his little shadows of hooves and horns, and the group clomps into the young eland’s stable. As he says, “This helps Richard become comfortable with our herd, so that when he’s ready to come out into the bush, he already has many friends.”

Whenever Richard is ready to go out, he will join a very special little group. No matter who is in the herd or how many different creatures there are, our eclectic herd always operates like a family. As they grow older and the wild instincts of their particular species take hold, they naturally start to drift away and seek their own kind.

But during this precious nursery phase, the orphans bond around the love and connection that most creatures crave. We find that one usually takes on a ‘mother goose’ role, shepherding the others through their days. At the moment, Pips is mother goose, following in the great giraffe tradition set by Twiggy. There was also Sala, a kudu who happily served as a surrogate parent to an assortment of antelope, even as she raised her own biological babies, and Izera, a uniquely nurturing male eland. They act as Peter’s deputies, keeping the herd together and looking after everyone in the bush.

The arrival of Bumpy has added a new tenor to things. Unlike most of the orphans, our little hippo is largely aquatic and spends much of the day lolling and twirling in his pool. However, he is still very much part of the herd. Wangalla is particularly enchanted by Bumpy — as she heads into the bush each morning, the tiny elephant pops over to his pool and extends her trunk in greeting before continuing on her merry way. Bombi and Brutus are also great fans and often plant themselves poolside in the afternoon.

Kaluku really has become a haven for all creatures. I think our orphans have a lot to do with this; because they are so clearly embraced here, wild animals have also come to learn that we are a safe place. The airstrip and main lawn at Kaluku often look like a wild social club, dotted with a wonderful assortment of ex-orphans and wild friends.

To spend a lifetime among wildlife is to know just how special each individual is. No species is more or less worthy of a loving family and a wild future. It is a great privilege to be in a position to provide that — just as it is to see remarkable Kenyans, like Peter, become guardians of their natural heritage. To me, that is real conservation at work.