Last month, we launched a project near and dear to our hearts: Field Notes, Volume I is a collection of my favourite Field Notes over the years, complete with stunning imagery and bound in a beautiful hardcover book. We are thrilled with how it turned out and it’s been such a delight to hear how much others are enjoying it, too. You can learn more about the book here.

This month, I am focusing on a very special theme: The treasured family tradition among our ex-orphan elephant herd, returning ‘home for the holidays’ to proudly debut their new babies to the people who raised them. It is a celebration of the power of love — really, what the holidays should be about.

Humans have an innate desire to share good tidings, gathering those we love to mark our biggest milestones and greatest celebrations. We share this trait with our greatest earthly kin — the elephant.

Truly, I cannot imagine a species that expresses unbridled delight more openly than an elephant. No milestone is too big or too small: A chance encounter with a long-absent friend? An entirely predictable reunion with a herd member after mere hours apart? Cue a chorus of rumbles, roars, and trumpets, punctuated by a frenzy of flapping ears and entwining trunks. You couldn’t choreograph joy better. But one celebration takes on a whole new dimension. I am, of course, referring to the arrival of a new baby.

In elephant society, every birth is precious. Pregnancy itself is no small feat: Elephants have the longest gestation period of any animal, carrying their baby for a gruelling 22 months. Expecting mums nurturing life from within while navigating droughts, dry seasons, dangers, and the daily challenges that define any wild animal’s existence.

The birth of a new calf is the greatest milestone in a female elephant’s life. When a baby finally makes their debut, it is as if the rest of the herd understands the gravity of the situation. They gather round to rhapsodise, embracing the little one and offering their support to the new mum. It is a beautiful reminder that elephants treasure family above all else — and that love begins the moment a new addition enters the world.

Here in Tsavo, we are privileged to be part of an ever-expanding elephant family tree. Its roots were planted many years ago, when my mother and father began rescuing the first orphans back in the 1950s. Over the decades, its branches have spread into generations of elephants — from the young orphans still entirely reliant on our care to the grown orphans now thriving in the wild, and even their own offspring.

We are often asked what happens when an orphan returns to the wild. Do they stride off into the bush, never to look back? Or do they continue to visit us throughout their independent lives? While each individual’s rewilding journey is unique, most remain deeply connected to the people who raised them.

Nothing exemplifies this bond more than the most extraordinary tradition among our ex-orphan mums: Without fail, nearly every one of them makes the pilgrimage home soon after giving birth to introduce us to their newborn. Bursting with pride and excitement, it’s as if they feel the celebrations wouldn’t be complete without including their human family in the moment.

Elephant births can happen at any time, but nature seems to favour the holidays. It is a perfectly fitting time of year — a season of joy, when we gather close, reflect on the year’s blessings, and cherish moments with those we hold most dear. And just as we circle home bearing gifts, so do elephants.

These gifts come in the form of tiny miracles — babies born to orphans raised through our Orphans’ Project. We can usually spot a new debut from a mile away: Mum approaches with a sense of purpose, just waiting for us to notice the little one by her side. She brings her calf right into our midst, inviting us to admire the newest addition to our collective family. Some take up residence in the area for several days or weeks, others make only a brief appearance before disappearing from whence they came.

This is not a pilgrimage of necessity or convenience. During the dry season, ex-orphans often converge around our Reintegration Units, knowing we provide fresh water and supplementary lucerne when resources are scarce in the wild. On some days, they congregate in their hundreds.

But by the time December rolls around, nature willing, Tsavo is flush from recent rains. The landscape transforms into a verdant paradise, blanketed in green from the top of the Yatta Plateau to the plains below. Knowing that fresh food and sparkling water holes wait around every corner, elephants tend to disperse far and wide.

Which makes it all the more incredible when we see an elephant appear on the horizon, a tiny baby by her side. She has made this trip home for the express purpose of celebration, often travelling great distances to be there.

I reflected on this topic in a previous Field Notes, written in 2020. At the time, we had just met Chyulu’s new baby, the 38th calf born to one of our ex-orphans. Four years later, the number of wild-born babies has exploded to 69 at our current count — and that number is even greater, as it only includes the calves we have been introduced to. This year, the holiday season has delivered many little miracles into our midst. In December alone, we met three new babies born to our ex-orphans.

The celebrations started in Umani Springs, at the very beginning of the festive season. On the afternoon of 3rd December, we noticed Lima Lima rolling around on the dust pile, trying to soothe her heavily pregnant belly. We wondered if this might be early signs of labour, and Keeper Evans even put his ear to her side — a house call from her personal obstetrician!

The next morning, Quanza — who is known for being a very understated elephant – rushed over to the staff quarters and made a real scene, charging around and yelling at the top of her lungs. We have never seen such behaviour from her before. Finding no one there, she continued her quest, ultimately intercepting Head Keeper Philip as he drove back from the mud bath.

Quanza directed Philip to a small patch of trees just outside the stockade, where Lima Lima and Sonje were quietly standing with a brand new baby sleeping between them. Lima Lima had given birth earlier in the morning and had sent Quanza off to alert her family!

Word soon got out, and Keepers and elephants alike bolted through the trees to reach their beloved Lima Lima’s side. This was clearly the moment she had been waiting for: The proud new mum woke up her son and showed him off to her family, inviting everyone to come close and introduce themselves. We have named her baby Lenny.

Everyone, human and elephant alike, was beside themselves with excitement — everyone that is, except Mwana. As Umani’s first grandchild, she saw this newcomer as unwelcome competition and much sulking ensued. (I am happy to report that, in the weeks since, Mwana has come around and is proving to be an excellent 'big sister' to Lenny!)

Umani Springs is our newest reintegration unit, established in 2014. Lenny is only its second grandchild, following in the star-studded footsteps of Mwana. We know that more babies are on the horizon — Sonje and Zongoloni are both pregnant, and we hope that Quanza’s time will come soon — but to already have two born to a unit just a decade old is truly extraordinary.

While the festivities carried on in Umani — as is the way there, Lima Lima has continued to link up with the orphan herd by day, allowing all of us to bask in the baby glow of Lenny — there were more to come in Ithumba.

On the morning of 6th December, framed by the first rays of sunlight, Kinna appeared from the eastern side. She had been away for over a week, but this was clearly no ordinary visit. Her gait was purposeful, her ears outstretched, and the rest of her herd — daughters Kaia and Kama, along with Kilabasi, Kofi, Nasalot, Noah, Nusu, Mundusi, Roi, Tusuja, and Ishanga — seemed charged with anticipation. We quickly realised why: Kinna had a tiny baby girl by her side! We’ve named her daughter Kito, which means ‘precious jewel’ in Swahili.

Not ten days later, yet another little miracle entered our midst. Lenana, who had been absent for nearly two months, arrived at the Ithumba stockades with her firstborn, Lapa, and a little baby boy, who we estimate to be about four weeks old. Unusually, there was no visible excitement among the elephants, suggesting that they had already met the baby out in the wild. This visit, it seemed, was exclusively for our benefit.

The picture of pride, Lenana paraded Laki, as we named him, around the stockade area so he could be properly admired. With introductions to her human family complete, mum and her sons headed back into the green wilderness.

While elephants aren’t bound by any human calendar, this time of year is their holiday season, too. After the tribulations of the dry season, nature delivered rains and bounty prevails. We never, for one minute, take for granted that we are invited into these festivities. The ex-orphans and their babies embrace our presence as if we were any other elephant — a trust that has been passed down through generations and one that does not extend to all humans. While these calves have only known a wild existence, their mothers and nannies have communicated that we are part of the family.

These beautiful moments are the proverbial bow that ties up the end of the year. The elephants we rescue have not always known happiness — some have been harmed by the human hand, while others have faced abandonment or injury. But as these scenes remind us, they live fully in the here and now. In this season of joy, what a privilege it is to join in their celebrations.