The Wild, Wandering Life of Peter Beard: Half Tiger, Half Byron
- dthholland
- Apr 16
- 5 min read
When Peter Beard went missing from his Montauk home in March 2020, the disappearance felt oddly poetic. A man who had survived being trampled by an elephant, broken a pelvis in five places, and blown enough cocaine “to impress Keith Richards,” simply vanished into the woods. Three weeks later, his body was found by a local hunter. There were no signs of foul play. It seemed, most likely, that Peter Beard, nicknamed “Walkabout” for his restless spirit, had wandered off—just as he always had throughout his 82 years.
Beard was an extraordinary figure—an artist, photographer, diarist, and conservationist, who was as comfortable in the company of elephants in Kenya as he was holding court at Studio 54. He was often described as “half tiger, half Byron,” and evoked comparisons to Peter Pan, Tarzan, Hemingway, and even Saint-Exupéry’s Little Prince. Yet, there was no true template for Beard, whose eccentricity, charm, and magnetism often cloaked a life of intense contradictions.
A Gilded Childhood and the Call of Africa
Born into a lineage of privilege in 1938, Peter Hill Beard was the great-grandson of James J. Hill, the railroad magnate behind the Great Northern Railway, and step-grandson of tobacco heir Pierre Lorillard IV. He grew up on Fifth Avenue, summered in Southampton, and was educated at Buckley, Pomfret, and Yale. But despite his WASP-adjacent upbringing—he once clarified his family were “mackerel snappers,” a derogatory slang for Catholics—he never seemed at ease within the neat confines of high society.
Africa, with all its beauty and brutality, captivated Beard from an early age. Inspired by Isak Dinesen’s Out of Africa, he travelled to Denmark in 1961 to meet her. Dinesen not only received him but helped him acquire land near her former coffee farm in Kenya, which he dubbed Hog Ranch after the warthogs that roamed it. That piece of land would become his sanctuary, studio, and sometimes his stage.
In Kenya, Beard documented the ecological catastrophe unfolding in the wake of drought, colonial legacies, and poaching. His landmark book The End of the Game (1965) captured the devastation of elephant and rhino populations and secured his reputation as a conservation photographer. But Beard didn’t merely observe from a distance—he was a participatory artist. His canvases, photographs, and diaries were often splashed with paint, ink, and sometimes his own blood, echoing the visceral style of his friend, Francis Bacon.
A Myth Made Flesh
“He created his myth,” said Ruth Ansel, who worked with Beard on his monumental 2006 Taschen monograph. “Others perpetuated it. I think 90 percent of the myth is true because he did live that life.”
That life included not only breathtaking imagery but also outlandish tales and troubling contradictions. His time in Kenya was not without controversy. In one incident, Beard tied a poacher to trees and allegedly gagged him—a crime that, by some reports, earned him a suspended prison sentence and a whipping. Others close to him dispute the severity of the punishment, suggesting it was largely mythologised.
His approach to wildlife was similarly provocative. He photographed elephants from dangerously close distances with a 50mm lens, often intentionally agitating them for more dramatic images. In other works, he staged tableaux using skulls and dead trees to underscore environmental collapse—artistic license that some conservationists found questionable.
Still, his imagery had impact. As Phillip S. Block of the International Center of Photography remarked, Beard “made visible the invisible.” He was a “concern photographer” with a platform few others had—thanks in no small part to his social ties and celebrity magnetism.
Hog Ranch and the Art of Chaos
Hog Ranch became a bohemian outpost—half salon, half safari camp—where models, royals, astronauts, and artists mingled beneath the acacia trees. Guests included Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia, Neil Armstrong, and a constant stream of models, friends, and partygoers. Beard drank vodka and beef bouillon “bull shots” and charmed guests with wild tales and even wilder collages.
His fashion shoots in the African bush were the stuff of legend. Model Janice Dickinson recalled a Playboy shoot where crocodiles were anaesthetised and their jaws tied shut. He once asked his crew what cameras they’d brought to a major shoot—his own were all broken. Beard’s chaotic genius, however, always seemed to manifest in the end.
The Women in His Life
Women were a constant in Beard’s life—muses, lovers, wives. His second wife, model Cheryl Tiegs, described him as “the most handsome man on the planet,” but their marriage collapsed under the weight of infidelity, volatility, and emotional abuse. He was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and Tiegs believes it contributed to his unpredictable behaviour and cruelty.
After Tiegs, Beard married Nejma Khanum, whom he pursued relentlessly after meeting in Kenya. But fidelity remained elusive. He maintained a long relationship with model Maureen Gallagher and was described by one lover as “impish,” by another as “mean and intoxicating.”
His daughter Zara, born in 1988, was a rare anchor, those closest to him say he adored his daughter. “I don’t think he ever loved anyone,” said his friend Peter Tunney, “except Zara.”
The Later Years: Injury, Lawsuits, and Legacy
In 1996, Beard was trampled by an elephant, an incident captured on film, and one that left him with lifelong pain. He later returned to New York, where he spent increasing time with Nejma and Zara. But the years brought legal battles, declining health, and artistic chaos. Nejma became his de facto agent and archivist, working to preserve—and sometimes control—his legacy.
Controversy followed Beard into the gallery world, where he was known to sign deals while drunk and offer conflicting stories about the origin of his work. Allegations of unauthorised sales and unpaid debts circulated, though defenders argue these were misunderstandings rather than malice.
Despite it all, Beard’s work continued to attract acclaim. His collages—augmented with quill-pen scribbles, blood, and paint—fetched high prices and appeared in exhibitions worldwide. His diaries, often considered as important as his photographs, revealed a man enthralled by beauty and despair in equal measure.
A Final Walkabout
In the last years of his life, Beard was frail and often confused. He had suffered strokes, dementia, and was reliant on caretakers. When he disappeared from his Montauk home, there was initial hope he had simply embarked on one last adventure. “If I ever end up like that,” he had once said of old men in wheelchairs, “I’ll just go into the sea.”
His body was found in a wooded area near Camp Hero State Park. He had no heart medication, no phone, no wallet. Police confirmed there was no foul play. For a man who had defied death so many times, the quiet end seemed, in its own way, improbable.
“He belonged to the world,” one friend said. Others noted how lonely he had become, a man defined by connection and chaos, now adrift in solitude. And yet, in death, as in life, Peter Beard left behind a compelling enigma.
