I am a primatologist who spends twelve hours most days in the company of a thirteen year old chimpanzee named Bow. I am also an editor with Inverted-A Press.
The logging continues, but Bow and I are finding ways to ignore it and get on with our lives.
Bow leafs through an issue of the Missouri Consevationist
Yesterday, for instance, Bow watched the loggers for a while without getting too upset. and then he led me in an exercise session indoors.
The loggers are here in the morning, but they leave long before noon. So when I go for my afternoon walk, all is calm, and I can enjoy the wildlife.
Yesterday, I got to watch a leaf fall from the sky, a common buckeye butterfly resting on my path, and two different groups of deer.
Some deer bound away at the first sight of me, and others stare at me long and hard.
This morning, Bow was so accustomed to having the loggers around that he let me go to the post office to mail off some bills and to buy new stamps. I chose the stamps featuring Monarch butterflies.
When I got home, Bow had been good. No accidents, no mess. So I showed him the stamps I had bought. Later he asked me to go out, saying he'd heard the loggers had food. (שמעתי שיש להם אוכל). I went out expecting to see the loggers eating sandwiches. But instead I spotted the twin fawns, nearly grown, taking shelter near the house.
I admit it. I like to watch the wildlife. Sometimes they don't know they are being watched. Sometimes they suspect it. Sometimes when they notice me, they fly away or run away or hide. At other times, they fly right at me and make me step back. But did you know that sometimes I feel watched, too?
Yesterday, I was looking at a dragonfly that was perched on the very edge of a bare Weigela limb. When it noticed me, it flew off like some kind of miniature helicopter. No, really, that's what I was thinking, when I saw it fly off. And then moments later the air was torn by the noise of a giant engine very close to the ground, and Bow, who was in the outer pen screeched and the leaves on all the trees trembled, and then I saw it: a black helicopter flying pretty low over my property.
Keep in mind the the camera makes it seem further away. But it felt really close, and it was a little scary, for me and Bow and the dogs. And then it went away, and I went back to my voyeurism.
In the calm and quiet of the ordinary every day life of the pasture, I spotted a great spangled fritillary on a thistle plant.
When it saw that I had spotted it, instead of flying away, it seemed a little angry at me for my invasion of its privacy, and it flew right at me.
Then it landed not too far away, daring me to come in for a closer picture. I wonder what would have happened if I had flown right at that black helicopter as a response to its presence!
Later in the day, while I was admiring the changing leaves of the maple tree, I saw a squirrel in the adjoining oak tree. I tried to come in closer to get a better view of the squirrel, but it hid on the other side of the branch from me. Giving up, I notice that Nile the cat was climbing up the oak, using only his claws to hang on to the tree.
In the evening, the younger deer was grazing alone in my front yard.
It suspected that I was watching, but until I stepped out it was not sure.
Its mother was waiting just around the corner of the house, so that's why it did not escape into the pasture, which would have been faster. I felt bad when I saw the panic in its eyes.
But the mother and child were reunited and later went back into the woods together. If the black helicopters ever come for me and Bow, I wish we could escape into the woods and disappear, too.
[This is an excerpt from a longer series by Kathy Freeze on her recent visit to Yellowstone. Here Kathy tells of her experiences on Day Seven.]
We all have a place that we call ‘home’. A physical place with 4 walls, a roof and a floor. A table where we share our meals, a place where we sleep, love and laugh often with those we dearly love and adore. Then, there are those places that our spirit and our heart recognizes as our true Home. A place where we feel like we truly belong. This place calls to my heart with a subtle quickening of my pulse and the swelling of my heart as it expands to accommodate the increased blood flow. It touches my soul and whispers in my ear, “I know you and you know me.” It makes me keenly aware that I have never really felt as anchored and centered as I do in this place.
Some people prefer the big city lights and throngs of people all around them. Some people prefer the oceans and the sandy beaches. Some people prefer deserts. Some people prefer their small city lots and well-manicured, landscaped lawns. Some people prefer small towns and others prefer their country homes, with lots of acres separating them from obnoxious neighbors. But me, I prefer only a very few of my most beloved people around me and the solitude of the animals and the mountains. My senses are filled with the energy from this place. There was never a dull moment, even when we were just sitting and watching and nothing was happening. The energy from this place seemed to make the hair rise on the back of my neck as the breeze blew across the valleys and as I stood peering through my scope watching for wolves in Lamar Valley.
Imagining what will come over a hill at any moment was enough to make me want to stay in Lamar Valley the rest of the trip. But, we only had a partial day left to spend in the park, before we needed to start packing and heading out the next day.
Headed into Lamar Valley early morning on Day 7, this pronghorn buck struck a nice pose on the hillside on another misty, damp, cool day.
My job today was to watch out the left-hand side of the RV as we cruised along slowly, determined to find the Druid pack. Not far into the drive, I called out “*something* at 9 o’clock”! I had spotted 5 pronghorn running like crazy on a far away hillside. As soon as we were stopped, I grabbed my spotting scope and tried to watch as pronghorn scattered and zigged and zagged around the hill. Before I could get fully focused, I swore I saw a light-grey wolf in pursuit as they topped the crest of the hill and then they were gone. I wasn’t 100% sure of the wolf spotting though, as I knew that Pronghorn are the second fastest mammal on the planet, able to attain speeds around 53 mph. So, it made the sighting questionable - after all, why would a wolf waste energy on chasing something they weren’t likely to catch?
We decided to move on and ran across another wildlife jam. We were too late to see them, but the jammers had spotted the Druid pack hunting in the nearby hills and they were headed east. We decided to head back west, find a spot, park and wait. And wait we did. After another hour or two, we moved even further east, near the Yellowstone Association Institute and heard from the crowd gathered there that there was a report the wolves had been spotted chasing a herd of bison and they were headed this way. We waited & waited for the herd and/ or the wolves to top the hill, but they never did in the 45 minutes or so that we waited.
After spending over 4 hours in Lamar Valley and eating our lunch there, we decided to head back to the VRBO to start laundry and the packing. On the way back, yep, another jam! Passersby told us the Momma black bear and her 2 cubs, who had eluded our cameras the last 2 trips through this same area, was actually down at the river in the ravine and could be easily spotted from the cliff’s edges. Sure enough, there she was, carefully, patiently guiding her young cubs across the rocks.
I guess the cub thought if he would stay close enough she would help him.
SQUEEEEEE!!!!!! A BABY looking so ADORABLE and so scared to follow Momma into the water. Some reassurance and a gentle nuzzle from Momma.
But she isn’t giving in. Yes, we are going forward and you must follow if you want to live. Doesn’t he look so vulnerable and cute huddled on his rock? I want to hug him and squeeze him and call him ‘George’!
Momma heads out and leaves the youngsters standing there looking helpless.
The one to the left decides he isn’t going to be left behind, but the one on the right is still unsure of his footing and the rushing water. He loses his footing and slips into the rapids. The onlookers panicked, thinking he was going to be swept downstream and his mother was going to let him drown. From my viewpoint, she never even looked back at him, and I never heard him frantically calling for her help.
After what seemed like an eternity, the little cub managed to get out of the most powerful part of the flow and made his way into the shallower area to join his mother. But now, the little fellow on the left is afraid to move. I guess he saw what happened to his brother and is rethinking his strategy?
Nope, still not moving! But the other little guy is make some progress toward his mother, even if he is losing some ground being pressed downstream.
More rough water to cross and Momma has made it to shore, the little guy presses on.
He makes it to shore with Momma, who is still not looking worried and still hasn’t looked back, but what about his brother?
He’s there....can you see him?
There he is! They are soaked but they made it and Momma acts as if she knew they would all along. I admire this Momma -- she just taught her cubs a valuable life lesson -- you have to learn to be strong and survive on your own. Or die.
The cubs spent a lot of time shaking off the water, stopping to paw at their ears, as they walked along this beach. I must have taken over 100 photos, but I won’t post all of them here....just a lot of them. ;-)
Such cute little guys!
The only time I saw Momma look back at them. She loved them enough to let them do it on their own.
There have been no major developments here recently, but sometimes no news is good news. That's because so much of the news is full of sensationalism, and "we had a nice day" is not news.
I did hear an encouraging news story recently, and I will share it with you:
A domesticated monkey by the name of Harley in Chillicothe, Missouri gave its owner the slip and went for a little walk around the neighborhood. A sheriff's deputy, alerted to fact that monkey was missing and had been spotted, found Harley a few houses away from home. Knowing the monkey well from previous meetings, he had a quiet conversation with Harley, and then he asked the six year old Capuchin to get in his truck so he could take him home. Harley complied and hopped into the truck. The officer took him home, and that is the end of the story.
This is exactly how law enforcement and domesticated primates should interact. I love this story, because nobody was hurt, the officer treated the monkey decently and the monkey reciprocated by doing as told, and nobody blamed the owner, and no confiscation or arrest took place. It is such a non-incident that arguably it does not qualify as news. But I'm glad it made the news, because we are constantly bombarded with bad stories to the point where people don't realize this is the normal course of events, and the others are unfortunate flukes.
For instance, every day around here, nothing much happens, even though Bow is a post-pubescent male chimpanzee and all sorts of self-appointed experts will suggest that there is no way a human can co-exist peacefully with a chimpanzee who is not an infant or a toddler.
Now I cannot report that something spectacular happens here every day, though as a researcher I would like to have more breakthroughs. Like most people, our family has very routine lives, day by day. There are lots of quiet little moments that do not mean anything in particular to anyone else, but there is contentment, and certainly there is peace.
Of course, we might like to have more in our lives -- an island for Bow and a mate -- and better proof of what he can do. But this does not mean that our ordinary lives are without interest.
The peony is unfurling itself, slowly and surely with the help of the ever watchful black ants.
There has been a resurgence of wildlife sightings on my property. I sat on my porch a couple of days ago and saw both a rabbit and some deer.
Certainly they were cautious and stayed far away, but I am wondering if Mother Cat is still around watching the kitten in the barn, I continue to drop in on the kitten and offer it food, and it seems to be doing well.
I hope the mother is still around, though, so it can teach the kitten how to hunt. I am not adopting it, so it needs to learn the skills of a free cat. I hope, however, that most of its kills are mice, not rabbits.
There is one rabbit that I keep seeing around, but I don't know how many others remain completely invisible to me.
Sometimes the rabbit seems to wait for me to draw closer before it bounds away.
After the wild roses blossomed, I got to witness a wide variety of bees and bee-like insects enjoying them.
Even the bumblebees have moved on from the tulip tree flowers to the wild roses.
The roses vary in color depending on where they are growing.
The roses deep in the woods seem most pink. But already, some of the roses are starting to fade, and the newest wildflower to bloom is the daisy.
They stand crowded together in the field and sway in the breeze.
I report on all of these developments to Bow, and he sometimes actually sends me off to explore outside, to make sure no one is trespassing on our property. He has a concern about unwanted invaders that he also sometimes shares with Lawrence. Lawrence has told me that many times Bow has sent him out to check that no one was out there. But if the visitor is someone Bow knows, like the delivery lady, he is always happy to see them and spend some time socializing with them.
Bow is very cooperative when it comes to filming. He was relaxing this morning when I wanted to shoot some video of him, and I asked him to look at me. He did, but when he saw I was filming, he decided on his own it would be a good idea to make faces at the camera.
I think the key to peaceful living is getting to know people and developing a relationship. Just like the monkey in Chillicothe, Bow understands language and responds well to people he knows and trusts. A big city would not be a good place to raise a non-human primate, because it contains so many strangers, and you can't possibly get to know them all. That's why so much bad news seems to come out of big cities, especially when strangers confront strangers.
It's not that strangers are necessarily bad, but it's not possible to develop instantaneous relationships with people you have only just met. I think there is a lot more room for misunderstanding in a big city not just for non-humans but for humans as well. Once you know someone, you know what to expect. If they are autistic, or hard of hearing or have some other disability that makes them not respond in the same way as others, you can make allowances for the differences, and things will go smoothly. Even humans do not belong to a cookie cutter array of pre-set behaviors that everyone can predict. Knowing what to expect from each individual cuts down on unnecessary discord. We can learn to make allowances for people we know, and strangers can become friends. But until we get to know someone well, just like Bow, we all tend to be on our guard.
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