The rains also draw a line under our most hectic time of year. There is the obvious — orphan rescues, veterinary treatments, bushfires — but also so much ‘invisible work’ that goes on behind the scenes. In this edition of field notes, I would like to shine a light on this hidden corner of our operations.

– Angela Sheldrick

In Kenya, time's rhythm is measured by the beat of the seasons. During the dry season, nature slows down — it is not an ideal time for breeding or births; instead, most animals are intently focused on finding enough food and water to tide them over until the rains arrive.

But for us, the dry season tempo ticks by at a rapid pace. Historically, these are the gnarly months: Rarely a day passes without a field emergency — or more likely, many occurring in tandem. It takes a massive choreography to keep all the wheels spinning, at home and across the landscapes in which we operate. Our efforts encompass the everyday work — orphans to feed, patrols to complete, roads and fire breaks to grade — alongside the extraordinary operations that become the norm this time of year.

During these months, our pilots and rangers go into overdrive. Every day at first light, they set out to scout the landscape for signs of trouble. Sometimes, these signs are unmistakable — fire brewing on the horizon, an elephant stuck in a dam. Others would be missed by most — a snare lying hidden in wait, the smallest spot of pus betraying an arrow wound on an elephant, a lone set of tiny tracks that lead to an orphan.

Countless rescue missions unfold over the course of a single dry season, but there are usually one or two defining operations that stand out for the challenges presented and the resources expended. This year, it was a four-day test of endurance and ingenuity in the tidal mudflats of Kilifi Creek on the coast of Kenya.

It began with an urgent call: Two bulls had become trapped in mudflats, hundreds of metres from solid ground. Working with the KWS, we formulated a plan, sourcing a bulldozer from Mombasa. Tragically, the first bull was already severely compromised from his time in the mud and died shortly after being pulled to solid ground. His friend was even deeper in the mud, and the straps kept snapping under his weight. When we finally hauled him to freedom, he was exhausted and flatly refused to leave his fallen companion. We shepherded him away and left him with water to recover — thinking the mission had been accomplished.

Later that night, however, we received word that he had become stuck again. We had to start from square one, procuring another bulldozer and bringing the right equipment to the scene. Finally, we managed to pull him an astonishing 170 metres to safety. Freedom came not a moment too soon: Just 30 minutes later, the tides came in and the creek filled with water. Had the bull still been stuck, he would have drowned on the spot. This time, teams tracked him 35 kilometres into the night, until he was far from danger.

Not every rescue unfolds over multiple days — some are over in a matter of minutes. In two memorable operations this dry season, we managed to rescue young calves who had become stuck in watering points and reunite them with their frantic mothers, who were waiting nearby. This is always our greatest hope — keeping wild families together.

But it is inevitable that the dry season also leaves orphans behind. We only rescue a young animal when asked to do so by the Kenya Wildlife Service — and this happens when all other options have been exhausted and extensive patrols have confirmed they are alone. Several little miracles have come into our care in recent months, of all species, from a number of elephants to a rhino, giraffe, and hippo. I hope to introduce them in due course.

Every orphan is an enormous commitment. Some come to us with unique medical needs; all require individualised, round-the-clock care. Each is hand-fed a freshly mixed bottle of milk as often as every two hours, using a formula tailored to their species, age, and nutritional needs. They become members of the family, and we get to know each one as an individual. We discover their little quirks and preferences; who likes to be snuggled or sang to, the special foods they enjoy, the daily rituals that bring them comfort. There is no shortcut when it comes to orphans. They receive this same devoted level of care until they are ready to reclaim their place in the wild — a journey that, for elephants, may not unfold for a decade or more.

Indeed, we continue to support our orphans long after they have left our care. Showing the mysterious intuition of animals, elephants usually time births for the more favourable rainy season. But some babies arrive in the heart of the dry season. Our ex-orphan mums know they can return 'home' for sustenance and support, as we provide supplementary food and water to help our wild neighbours through the dry months. And it is not only our ex-orphans who see us as a safe haven — this dry season, several fully wild females have taken up residence around Ithumba after giving birth.

The dry season brings emergencies that test our teams in different ways. Since August, we have responded to more than 30 bushfire call-outs. Often set by arsonists or herders hoping to create fresh grazing land for their livestock, bushfires can be catastrophic for habitats: A single blaze can wipe out tens of thousands of acres, claiming untold wild lives in the process. While our Aerial Unit douses flames from the skies, our Anti-Poaching Teams transform into firefighters and our water bowsers into firetrucks, battling fires on the frontlines and rescuing animals unable to outrun the devastation. We have customised firefighting equipment, including specially designed trailers with pressurised pumps and hoses that hook up to the bowsers, with access to 20,000 litres of water onboard.

During the dry season, plumes of smoke tarnishing the horizon become an all-too-familiar sight — but thanks to rapid intervention, we are able to halt their path of destruction.

Just as fire poses one kind of threat, dwindling resources create another: human-wildlife conflict. Elephants are clever animals. When food becomes harder to find, some rascals look to greener pastures — specifically, bountiful farmland outside the park. While they are just following their natural instincts, they can be a dangerous and destructive presence, and communities understandably don't welcome them.

Just this week, our Aerial Unit responded to a case involving several dozen bulls congregated on community land. These situations can be a powderkeg for human-wildlife conflict. The mission was a success: Thanks to our helicopters working in tandem and KWS support on the ground, we shepherded 31 elephants off community land and back into the park that day — not bad for an afternoon's work. In the past three months alone, we have pushed 87 elephants out of harm's way and back into protected areas.

But sometimes, shepherding by air is not possible. Some elephants flatly refuse to be guided, and in these cases, we must mobilise a full ground translocation — immobilising the elephant and transporting him by truck to safety. Earlier this month, we successfully translocated a problematic bull who had outmaneuvered all attempts to be shepherded through the park fence.

As the weeks wore on, his continued presence on community land had become a serious problem. He was causing damage to crops and water tanks, and his increasingly aggressive behaviour was putting lives at risk. Because he was not a fence-breaker but rather had an aversion to the fence itself, he simply needed safe passage back into Tsavo East National Park.

Exactly a week later, we mobilised another translocation — this time for a bull who had become a nuisance to communities on the western boundary of Tsavo West. Unlike our first candidate, he had no such qualms about the fence. In fact, breaking through had become something of a nightly tradition, upon which he would see himself into the community and help himself to crops and water. He had to be rehomed much deeper in the park, where he wouldn't get himself into trouble.

Translocations require carefully orchestrated resources — from a fixed-wing plane to spot the elephant, a helicopter to dart him and shepherd him to an open area, the backhoe and crane truck that provides transportation, and of course the teams providing support on the ground. But the payoff is worth it, protecting human and wild lives alike. In the last couple of months, we have undertaken three translocations.

All of these operations — the rescues, the reunions, the translocations — are the visible face of our dry season work. But behind the scenes lies an entire infrastructure of daily labour that makes everything else possible. This is the invisible work I want to shine a light on, because without it, we could not respond to a single emergency.

Consider water. With the dry season comes an inevitable increase in human-wildlife conflict, as elephants and other creatures venture onto community land in search of food and water. By creating water sources deep within protected areas, we are able to reduce the friction between human and wild lives.

To date, we have drilled and rehabilitated 51 boreholes across Kenya, strategically located far from communities to draw wildlife deeper into the parks. These are managed and maintained by our teams — which is a significant undertaking. Each sits in a remote location with pumps and mechanical systems that demand trips across difficult terrain for weekly cleanings and regular maintenance.

In areas where boreholes are not a viable solution, we bring in water on wheels. Our water bowsers source water from a borehole or well-flowing river, which they then distribute where needed most. We have a fleet of eight bowsers, five of which have a holding capacity of 20,000 litres. Bowsers are essential in delivering water to our Ithumba and Voi Reintegration Units, which serve older dependent orphans, ex-orphans, and wild elephants. Day after day, these trucks make their rounds, adapting to needs in the field.

Just as vital as water are the roads that connect all these remote corners of our operations. We help maintain a vast network of security roads throughout the park and protected areas. This is more than a full-time job, as each route must be regularly graded and patrolled, with quick action taken when a fallen tree or flood renders it impassable. But reliable and open passage through the park is absolutely vital. It allows rescue teams to make a timely arrival, security personnel to conduct their patrols, and emergency responders to reach those in need. Roads also act as important fire breaks, stopping or delaying the momentum of a blaze so teams have the opportunity to tackle it.

Our works team acts as unofficial rangers in the park. They really are unsung heroes — during the dry season, they routinely log over 800 kilometres driven in a given week. Because they are on the ground, covering so much territory, they notice things that would otherwise be lost forever: a trapped animal, a lone orphan, an injured elephant. Innumerable lives have been saved over the years thanks to their quiet work. They often provide the crucial first reports and essential support in all manner of operations, from rescues to treatments to firefighting.

And then there are the 'wild borders' that prevent illegal activities, secure wild habitats, and mitigate human-wildlife conflict. The Trust funds and maintains over 450 kilometres of electric fencelines across vulnerable boundaries, with dedicated teams patrolling and maintaining them every single day. This invisible work has been ongoing in the northern sector of Tsavo for 25 years now — in that area alone, 63 kilometres of fenceline silently and efficiently keep communities and elephants safe. Our fenceline teams provide critical security oversight, as early detection of illegal incursions often leads to successful interventions by our anti-poaching units.

This is the invisible work of conservation. The water that flows through arid areas, the roads that remain passable year in and year out, the daily patrols that catch problems before they become crises — this is the foundation upon which conservation work can flourish.

As the rains begin to fall and the landscape transforms once again, we can share a collective sigh of relief. The dry season tests everyone — wildlife and conservationists alike. But it also reveals the extraordinary resilience of nature and the dedication of those who work so tirelessly to protect it.