All gifts made to the NhRP now through midnight on December 31st will be doubled. Donate now to support our critical work for nonhuman animal rights in 2026.

I imagine the first thing Zuri felt wasn't the warmth of her mother, but the cold, hard press of a concrete floor.

Under the fluorescent light of the Pittsburgh Zoo’s elephant barn, a newborn Zuri wobbled on unsteady legs. She didn't know about metal chains or zoo schedules yet; she only knew the low, vibrating rumble of her mother, Moja, anxiously calling to her from several feet away.

Zuri reached out her small trunk toward the sound of her mother—searching for the familiar scent of family. Unsteady on her feet, Zuri took her first wobbly steps in this world toward her mother whose trunk reached for her through giant metal bars that separated them. 

Elephants are famous for their memories, and I often wonder what memories Zuri carries with her.

I imagine she remembers the day, eight years after her birth, when the gates of the zoo opened not to free the elephants, but to take Moja away forever. Did she pace the zoo’s tiny outdoor exhibit dreaming of the miles of forest and soft earth her ancestors walked for generations?

For 17 years, Zuri’s world was a small fraction of what an elephant's world should be. Every meal, every bath, and every night’s sleep happened within the same concrete walls where she was born. In the wild, she would have been a traveler, an explorer, and an integral part of her herd—roaming a vast, diverse landscape and sleeping under a blanket of stars. 

When my colleague Courtney and I visited our clients at the Pittsburgh Zoo this year, I stared at the stall where Zuri was born. All those years—decades of forced separations, forced births, the loud echoes of endless visitors, the stench of urine and feces—those memories, those traumas, are all baked into those walls. 

This year, Zuri was transferred to the same breeding facility her mother was sent to years ago. But this wasn't a family reunion or a return to nature. It was no more than a transfer of inventory—the zoo’s decision to breed Zuri and doom another generation of elephants to a lifetime of captivity. 

This is why we filed a new habeas corpus petition on behalf of Zuri and her half-sister, Victoria, who was also moved to this breeding facility. We now have two active lawsuits in Pennsylvania challenging the unjust confinement of five elephants: Zuri, Victoria, Savanna, Tasha, and Angeline. Our lawsuits demand that the courts recognize the elephants’ right to liberty and order their release to a sanctuary where this right will be respected. 

As this year comes to an end, Zuri’s future remains on our minds at the NhRP. Our fight for her right to be free continues. 

Will you help us continue our fight for Zuri—and all autonomous nonhuman beings—who deserve to have their fundamental rights recognized under law? 

All end-of-year donations are being matched by a group of generous donors until midnight on December 31st.

Zuri’s life began behind concrete and steel. With your help, those walls don't have to be the end of her story.

With gratitude,

Kelly Holt

Digital Director, the NhRP

P.S. This month we’ll be sending out more emails than usual as part of our end-of-year fundraising campaign. It’s important to us to allow you to choose what kinds of emails you’d like to receive while this campaign is ongoing. Make your selections here.

The NhRP is a nonprofit, tax-exempt 501(c)(3) corporation (Tax ID #: 04-3289466). It is solely through your donations that we can continue to work for the recognition and protection of fundamental rights for nonhuman animals.

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