I love this line, written by my mother, Dame Daphne Sheldrick. To spend time amongst elephants is to witness the truth in her words — life revolves around babies in a hustling, bustling cocoon of love.

In this edition of Field Notes, let’s visit the ‘perfect world’ of Umani Springs, where four new babies have woven the most incredible family.

– Angela Sheldrick

In the animal kingdom, as with the world over, family takes many forms. But to me, there is none more ideal, none more sacred, than the elephant family.

Perhaps it is because mothers spend so long nurturing their calves from within — the gestation period for an elephant is 22 months, the longest of any mammal. By the time a baby finally makes its earthly debut, it is already an intrinsic part of the family into which it is born.

Over the years and decades, we have had a unique vantage point into elephant families. Generations of orphans rescued, raised, and rewilded through our Orphans’ Project have gone on to have wild offspring of their own. To our immense honour, we have been embraced into this ever-expanding family tree: When a new branch is born, the proud mum often makes the pilgrimage ‘home’ to debut her baby to the people who raised her. To our knowledge, we are the first and only people in Africa to be afforded this privilege — a rare privilege indeed, considering how highly elephants treasure their family and how fiercely they protect them.

But nothing could have prepared us for the exquisite elephant family we would become a part of in Umani Springs.

Umani has always been a unique situation. Our third and newest Reintegration Unit, it was established to provide a home for Murera and Sonje, orphaned elephants who came to us with serious, poaching-inflicted injuries that would affect them for the rest of their lives.

When Murera and Sonje graduated to Umani Springs, we had no idea what the future had in store. We had hopes — our A-team was assembled, the environment was generous, and the elephants were incredibly determined — but there was certainly an element of uncertainty. Sonje and Murera arrived in the company of trusted female friends Zongoloni, Quanza, and Lima Lima. Many more orphans followed in their footsteps, forming the foundations of a remarkable family.

Over the past decade, our Umani herd has defied all expectations and proved that every miracle is worth chasing. When we rescued her, people thought that Murera would never walk again. How wrong they were: We can attribute much of Umani’s success to Murera’s leadership; she is both an anchor and a trailblazer, straddling two worlds with aplomb

Because of her physical vulnerabilities, Murera has chosen to remain part of our stockade-dependent unit. By day, she leads the herd deep into the Kibwezi Forest and Chyulu Hills, roaming as freely as any other wild elephant. But come nightfall, she opts to return to the stockades, appreciating the support and secure environment we can provide.

Incredibly, most of the semi-independent orphans — the ‘nightclubbers,’ as the Umani Keepers affectionately call them — also straddle both worlds, only in the opposite manner. Sonje, Lima Lima, Quanza, and Zongoloni, along with gentle bull Mwashoti, decided to spend their nights out in the wild several years ago. But still, they continue to link up with the stockade-dependent herd nearly every morning. There are powerful heartlines at work in our Umani herd, weaving a unique and incredibly bonded family.

We waded into uncharted waters when Murera went out and mated with a wild bull, giving birth 22 months later to Umani’s very first ‘grandbaby’ on 12th March 2023 (I have written about Murera’s gift, precious Mwana, here and here.) Her leap into motherhood inspired her friends, and it wasn’t long before we realised that Lima Lima, Sonje, and Zongoloni were also in the family way.

Fittingly, Lima Lima — who has never met a race she didn’t want to win — was the first of the trio to give birth. She went into labour just a stone’s throw from the stockades, delivering a perfect baby on 3rd December 2024. We named him Lenny.

Just a few weeks later, Sonje presented us with the most remarkable Christmas gift: In the early hours of 25th December, she strode up to the stockades with a beautiful, newborn girl by her side. We named her Sulwe.

And then, only Zongoloni remained. We joked that she endured the world’s longest pregnancy. While there is always some guesswork involved with an elephant’s due date, as one rarely knows when conception occurred, we predicted that Zongoloni would give birth first. She is large-bodied by nature, but as their pregnancies progressed, her belly soon surpassed Sonje’s and Lima Lima’s.

But the months passed, the other babies arrived, and still Zongoloni kept us in suspense! Even she seemed fed up with the waiting game; she has always been a capricious elephant, but her mood swings reached a marked new level in the final months!

Finally, on 24th April 2025, Zongoloni lumbered up to the stockades, clearly in labour. We knew that this was the day we had all been waiting for. A few hours later, she retreated to the nearby forest. A yell, followed by the rumbles and trumpets of her friends, told us that her baby had arrived. We named him Zigi.

Motherhood has a way of reframing priorities and shifting rhythms. Now that the majority of our ‘nightclubbers’ had entered this new phase of life, we wondered if the Umani dynamic would change. Would things continue to hum along as they always had, with the wild and stockade-dependent factions of orphans uniting each morning after spending the night apart? Would Murera remain the matriarch, or would our nightclubber mothers chart a different course? The choice would be entirely their own, but we wondered if our Umani family as we knew it was about to change forever.

And what changed was this: a reassuring, resounding nothing. Lenny, Sulwe, and Zigi slotted seamlessly into the patchwork of Umani, just as Mwana had two years before them. As reliable as a trusty old clock, Lima Lima, Sonje, Zongoloni, Quanza, and Mwashoti continue to join up with Murera, Mwana, and the stockade-dependent orphans almost every morning, spending the day as one herd before peeling off for their respective nighttime accommodations.

Our new mothers had spoken, loud and clear: They want to bring up their babies in the bosom of the same supportive, loving family that raised them. To be part of this remarkable, complex family is a privilege indeed. Born out of the small herd size and the handicaps of some of its members, our Umani orphans have always been unusually close, even by elephant standards. The addition of four babies has rewoven the threads of our herd, forming an even tighter knit.

Everyone still looks up to Murera as their leader — no direction is chosen, no definitive action taken without her rumble of assent. She is the glue that holds our family together, and a testament to the power of a strong matriarch. Her body may be compromised, but her strengths as a leader and a nurturer transcend any physical setbacks.

In elephant society, the shortcomings of one are the strengths of another. So it is with our herd. Lima Lima can be quite a wayward mother — she has always been nosily curious, easily distracted, fun-loving, and a hopeless flirt. Motherhood hasn’t dampened these qualities. When she goes off on one of her jaunts, Murera and the others step in to watch little Lenny.

But Lima Lima has her own critical role to play. Murera does not have mobility on her side, so Lima Lima serves as her eyes and ears. She is a remarkable scout and security system, honing in on the slightest sign of danger and communicating any risks to the Keepers. Should the herd encounter wild animals, Lima Lima is the first to step up and provide a distraction so the others can find a safe exit route.

We have found that motherhood has hardened Sonje and softened Zongoloni. Sonje has always been Murera’s co-matriarch, but now she leads with a firmer hand. She is very protective of her daughter and puts her above all else. Zongoloni, meanwhile, was historically known as a rather mercurial elephant. While she still has her famous moods, it has been a real pleasure to see a new, more nurturing side to her.

And of course, there are the babies. When Lenny first arrived on the scene, Mwana was downright churlish — she clearly realised she was no longer the ‘only child’ of Umani and begrudged her change in circumstances. Murera handled it with her usual measured competence, giving her churlish daughter a few days to sulk and sort out her feelings in private. The turning point was a ‘family meeting.’

As Keeper Philip noted: ‘Mwana ironed out her grievances following a meeting chaired by Murera and Sonje. The resolution was that every elephant within the Umani herd must respect Lenny and accept him as their new baby boy, just as they had done with Mwana. It was agreed that the family was growing, and they all needed to live together peacefully.’

By the time Sulwe and then Zigi arrived, Mwana had matured into a model big sister. She is a real testament to her mother and the herd that has raised her. When she was an infant, Mwana nursed from her own mother, Murera, but also all the expectant mothers, especially Lima Lima. Now, Murera is returning the favour. With a diet bolstered by porridge, lucerne, and range cubes, she has the unique advantage of producing more milk than your average elephant — which means she can be generous. Murera allows Lenny to nurse from her as if he were her own baby, while Mwana placidly watches on. We know that, a decade down the line, when Mwana is ready to become a mother herself, she will be an excellent one.

Mwana may be small, but she is also incredibly protective of her family. When interlopers arrive on the scene — be it a single, roving baboon or a surly herd of buffalo — she charges at them without hesitation, heart-shaped ears spread at full sail. (It must be said that Mwana doesn’t present the most intimidating security force, but the back-up of Mwashoti, Maktao, Kapei, and co. quickly has the desired effect!)

There’s something about our Umani females — they are a force to be reckoned with! Stout Sulwe is three weeks younger than Lenny, but she was born larger, stronger, and bolder. She is courageous and capable, just like her mother. One afternoon, Sulwe showed her bravery when several warthogs emerged from their burrow and caught the group unawares. The nannies quickly gathered the babies, but Sulwe stood her ground and blew a squeaky, shrill trumpet to help chase the intruders away.

Lima Lima has always been a milk fiend of note. She is long since weaned, but after giving birth to Lenny, decided it was time to help herself to milk bottles again — she apparently sees it as an orphan-turned-mother’s due, and who are we to deny her?! Come the midday milk feed, she happily leaves her son in the dust, one glinting eye on the bottle waiting for her.

Our Umani grandbabies are not bottle-fed — they get all the nutrition they need by nursing from their mothers, like any other wild calf — but they still like to join the dependent herd's race to the midday milk feed. Ears flapping, trunks wagging, desperately trying to trip each other up, Lenny, Sulwe, and Zigi sprint as if their entire futures are at stake. Lenny, who shares his mother’s speed and flair for competition, usually emerges the victor. Interestingly, the babies show no desire for the bottles — as soon as they reach the ‘finish line,’ they meander over to the mud bath while orphans have their milk.

As the youngest Umani grandchild, it is little surprise that Zigi is the most spoiled. Crafty Kiasa, who started sleeping wild the moment the new babies arrived on the scene, is his main nanny — she clearly realised that in order to nab this coveted position, she must be a constant presence in their lives. Amali and Enkesha, who still retire to their stockades at night, must resort to outwitting Kiasa by day if they are to spend any time at all with Zigi. Zigi seems to enjoy it when the girls fight over him.

We often joke that Umani has gone from a herd to a kindergarten. The whims, wants, and needs of the babies eclipse all else, shaping our lives in the Kibwezi Forest in the most wonderful way. With the orphans’ blessing and invitation, the Keepers are part of this rhythm. Mwana, Lenny, Sulwe, and Zigi see Philip, Adan, Simon, Evans, Sora, David, Boniface, and Thadeous as equal members of the Umani herd, no different from any elephant. However, it is important — and telling — to note that this acceptance does not extend to all humans. Theirs is a relationship built upon earned trust and the dedication of a lifetime.

In the years to come, our Umani family tree will continue to blossom. Earlier this year, Murera decided she was ready to have another baby. She left the herd with a singular goal in mind, returning after an uncharacteristic absence of several days. Based on the signs, we believe her mission was accomplished, and look forward to our next grandchild in less than two years’ time.

In the meantime, life goes on in the Kibwezi Forest — the ‘perfect world’ Daphne spoke of, playing out before our very eyes.