May 25, 2026

Ming, London’s Wartime Panda

During World War II, a giant panda named Ming became one of London Zoo’s most beloved residents.

During the Second World War, while air raid sirens and blackouts had become an inescapable part of life in London, children still lined up to cuddle and shake hands with a giant panda named Ming.

Ming was born in China’s Sichuan province in 1937, at a time when war had already begun reshaping ordinary routes and ordinary plans. Instead of taking the usual route toward Shanghai, Ming and five other panda cubs were loaded onto trucks and driven across rough roads and through territory known for bandit activity before eventually reaching Hong Kong and boarding a ship bound for Britain.

By the time Ming arrived at London Zoo in 1938, she had already completed a journey stranger than most people would experience in a lifetime.

She was also the first giant panda cub Britain had ever seen.

Today, it might be difficult to imagine pandas as a novelty. They appear in documentaries, toys, memes, conservation campaigns, and on enough mugs and calendars to fill a small shop. But in the late 1930s, most people had never seen anything remotely like Ming before. And they loved her immediately.

Children gathered around her enclosure, fascinated by this black-and-white fluffy animal that looked both unusual and strangely familiar at the same time. Among those visitors were Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret, who were photographed inside Ming’s enclosure, tickling her stomach and spending time with the young panda.

Then the war arrived. Like many zoo animals during that time, Ming was moved away from London for safety as bombing intensified. But she returned repeatedly during the war years, and people continued to visit her at the London Zoo. For many of them, spending an afternoon watching a panda wander around, snack, and just be a panda felt like a pretty good place to be.

She did not have a wartime role in the way some animals did. She was just Ming the giant panda.

One of Britain’s most famous photographers, Bert Hardy, later captured a now well-known image that made it appear as though Ming had taken control of a camera and started photographing Hardy's son, Mike. Honestly, she already seemed comfortable enough with public attention.

Ming died in late 1944 from unexplained causes. She was only seven years old.

After her death, The Times wrote that she had "gladdened the universal heart," which sounds slightly dramatic until you remember that people had spent years lining up just to watch a panda exist. And during wartime London, that turned out to be enough.

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