Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

Hope. Love. Home. Sanctuary

Animal Welfare

man of mystery

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If you tuned in yesterday, you read that Willy B has been asserting his desire to disrupt the routine and, instead of shifting for meals, he has one thing on his mind – keeping tabs on the neighbors, we suspect Annie in particular.

Today was a continuation of this trend. Anna, J.B. and I put our heads together yesterday to attempt to problem solve and try to give Willy B what he wants but also ensure we are able to clean their house.

I think I mentioned this a couple of weeks ago, but I have a blog post percolating in my brain all about how much of what we do in caring for captive chimpanzees is balancing different aspects of welfare and safety.

I don’t know if I’ll ever write that grand post. There’s a hundred examples of this sometimes difficult balancing that we do throughout each day. Rarely are there clear right or wrong answers.

Willy B’s new defiance to the routine illustrates several examples.

Because of the construction happening right now that will give Willy B, Mave, and Honey B more space and variety, we decided to not give them access to the courtyard when construction workers are on site.

There are a few reasons we landed on that decision, but mainly it was about safety. Willy B is still getting used to the courtyard and Honey B and Mave are still curious but not curious enough to take steps outside. The Courtyard is right next to where the construction is taking place. We certainly don’t want any incidents while strangers are in the vicinity.

So, this means that Willy B’s Courtyard time has been lessened and we aren’t actively working on encouraging Mave and Honey B to be adventurous, but rather leaving it up to them for the time being.

Also, the Courtyard was a bit of a quick construction project. It’s not their final outdoor space, rather it’s a stop-gap that we created after the integrations didn’t work out so that Willy B, Mave, and Honey B could have an open-top outdoor space while we continue to work on the expansion for them and for another group of chimpanzees coming from Wildlife Waystation.

In order to create the space quickly, there’s just one electric fence running between the Courtyard and the rest of Young’s Hill – the outdoor habitat that the group of seven access. With just one fence between them, we don’t have both groups outside at the same time. This means we have to balance the needs, desires, and welfare of each of the individuals in the two groups when allocating outdoor access.

This is temporary. Both groups will one day have large open-top habitats, but right now we have to work with what we have. And there’s always the possibility of Mave and Honey B never (or take years to) get accustomed to the big open outdoors. So, part of our future plans include a large enclosed outdoor space too. Balancing. Balancing.

Our routine lately has been going along swimmingly for the most part. There was that one day a couple of weeks ago when Willy B decided to camp outside. Anthony’s post that day covers some of this same material I’m relaying here. At the time, that incident was an anomaly and didn’t impact the cleaning routine. Willy B’s decisions this week, however, are putting a wrench in the routine.

Today, I opened up the Chute first thing in the morning, hoping that Willy B would get his fill of monitoring the other group / watching Annie, and would then come in for breakfast so we could clean. I realized at the time, of course, that this was wishful thinking. He chose not to shift for breakfast. And today Honey B decided to join him in his keeping-the-humans-on-their-toes mission. Mave had a fabulous breakfast and was in high spirits all day, inviting the humans to play chase whenever she could catch our eye.

Based on Willy B and Honey B’s decision, I changed up the routine a bit, eventually closing Willy B in the Chute so that we could clean all of the front rooms. Happily for everyone, it was a beautiful sunny day, and he was quite content napping at the top of the Chute.

With the construction crew off, I decided to wait until after lunch to open up the Courtyard so that Willy B could have some extra time out there, if he chose.

He chose.

Anna and I took turns hanging outside with him most of the afternoon.

It wasn’t so much that he wanted to be in the Courtyard as he did not want us to eliminate the option of him being in the Courtyard, so the few times Anna or I approached the controls to close the door, he would move from the Chute to the Courtyard.

It was nice to be able to give him this choice and it allowed me to do a little photo study of this man of mystery.

Eventually, he let Anna close the door and he came inside just before dinner. Whew!

I had a decision to make now. It was right before dinner, but the seven hadn’t been outside on the hill since this morning. They probably would have been just fine getting dinner and ending the day, which would make things easier on the humans. On the other hand, if they could have twenty minutes or so of outside time, that would be nice.

You can probably guess what I decided to do.

The question now was whether Jamie would allow me to close the hill after dinner. Jamie is controlling by nature and often chooses when the caregivers go home by sitting in the doorway to the hill, knowing full well that we won’t leave until all of the chimps are inside for the night.

After dinner, Jamie looked at me and ran outside. The gig was up, there would be no closing of the door; we were going to walk. Actually, a walk was not exactly what she had in mind. I had to get the gator from the barn so we could race.

I have to hand it to Jamie, she knows how to end a day.

Willy B also did not want a door closed during dinner – the door to the Chute. Eventually his stomach and curiosity made the decision for him and I closed the door while Anna passed out grab bags.

Now everyone is tucked in and sleeping soundly, and I’m awake-dreaming about the new spaces taking shape for Willy B, Mave, and Honey B and new chimpanzees and all of the ways they will be able to choose to keep the humans on their toes.

Here’s some exciting progress on the construction.

Doors!

Stairs!

Thanks for tuning in to today’s blog! Happy Thanksgiving week to everyone.

The Reflection of Oneself and Others

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Chimpanzees are an highly intelligent species. You probably know this by now if you have been following the blog for a while. One test chimpanzees have passed numerous times is the Mirror Self-Recognition Test. This test simply shows that an individual knows that the reflection they are looking at in a reflective surface (i.e. mirror) is in fact their own and not a separate individual. Only a handful of species have passed this test to date, including all the large-bodied apes (including humans), elephants, dolphins, orcas, and magpies.

The chimpanzees here are no exception. They all seem to like to look at their reflections. Willy B absolutely loves staring at himself in the mirror!

While Willy B, and most of the other residents, like to stare at their reflection, Honey B uses it a tad differently.

First and foremost, the large Looky Lou mirror in the Mezzanine is a giant swing toy!

Once she has her fun swinging on this giant pendulum, she will stand there holding it. Then ever-so-slightly, turn it to make sure the humans watched her “coming in like a wrecking ball.”

And she will make sure we were watching from multiple angles.

Even when we arrive with camera in hand, she will watch us intently taking pictures, but through the reflection of the mirror.

Honey B is so clever and fun spirited. Her intelligence never ceases to amaze us, as do all the residents here! Just the other day I was quickly reminded of how clever they really are, especially with the use of mirrors and other reflective surfaces. As I was in a (what I thought was) blindspot in the kitchen, I heard Burrito Bronx cheering and banging on the mesh from one of the front rooms. This is usually Burrito talk for, “Hey you! It’s play time!” I didn’t think it was possibly directed to me because how could he see me? Then it hit me! The door leading to the chimp area was positioned ever-so-right that he could see me through the reflection of the window on the door! Since this discovery, I’ve noticed he will position himself in the front rooms if he has the slightest hint any of us are in this blindspot trying to get some work done. “Silly humans!”

As a bonus to end the day, here are some photos of Negra and Jody today!

 

Terroir

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As I drove through the canyon on my way to the sanctuary this morning, I thought of a passage from science-fiction author Jeff VanderMeer.
Natural places are no different than human cities. The old exists next to the new. Invasive species integrate with or push out native species. The landscape you see around you is the same as seeing an old cathedral next to a skyscraper.

VanderMeer’s work, perhaps best described as ecological horror, explores how humans perceive and withstand environmental changes. Watching their surroundings undergo both subtle and dramatic transitions, no matter how neutral they are at their core, alters the emotional fibers of his characters.

Driving up the sanctuary’s driveway, I could see that the contractors had just finished covering the new wing of the chimpanzee building, which is hopefully just a few months away from completion. I reminded myself that I was an intern here just a couple years ago. Now everything looks a bit different. We have a new driveway, new barn, new structures, and new wing of enclosures. There are new residents (both bovine and chimp), new staff, and new protocols. It’s hard to believe that sanctuary itself hasn’t even existed for two decades yet because it hasn’t stopped evolving.

The land where the Chimp House sits was once an uninteresting pasture, but there were saloons and homesteads all along our stretch of highway. The nearby towns were base camps for coal miners and pioneers, and the surrounding forests have been sculpted by the flames of many wildfires and saws of many loggers. If you go back far enough, the Yakima and Snoqualmie people served as stewards of these lands for thousands of years. On a grander scale, massive herds of prehistoric bison and elk grazed the icy tundra that existed before humans arrived on the scene. Now, in a plot twist that would be just as confusing to the coal miners as it would to the prehistoric bison, ten retired chimpanzees call this place their sanctuary home.

What has not changed, in my lifetime at least, is the terroir of this place. For those of you who share my apathy for wine, terroir is a French word used to describe the suite of environmental and agricultural factors contributing to a wine’s quality. Importantly, though, terroir is not something that can be measured. It’s not just a composite of rainfall, or soil, or topography. It is an amalgamation of all these things into one noticeable character, and it can only be sufficiently experienced via taste.

One of the ecologists in VanderMeer’s novels uses the concept when describing a mysterious landscape, the feeling of which he cannot sufficiently explain using scientific language alone. It resonated with me when I first read it because it makes so much sense. I thought of all the places I’ve been lucky enough to live and work in, including this sanctuary, and recalled the unmistakable terroir of each. I wish the followers and donors, many of whom have never even visited this part of the country, could all come to this place and (without disturbing the residents) experience it for themselves. There’s nothing quite like walking around a dew-covered Young’s Hill in the morning and hearing a chorus of anticipatory pant-hoots rise up from the Chimp House, and words don’t do that experience any justice.

I know that having you all visit wouldn’t be possible, even in the absence of a global pandemic, so I hope you will all be content to view some photos that I’ve recently taken of this beautiful place as it continues to evolve into something else.

 

let’s hear it for the bovines

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If you are not in the mood to read words at the moment, watch the video above and scroll down for some photos.

Yesterday was my day to muck out the cattle barn and feed the bovine family.

The staff person assigned to “cattle care” for the day generally carries out this task after the morning duties in the chimp house – mainly serving the chimpanzees breakfast and doing a lot of cleaning.

J.B., Anna, Kelsi, and I got done with the chimp house cleaning pretty early, and I decided to finish up some donor thank yous before heading out to give the cattle their hay.

Because it’s winter, the cattle are given hay in their barn, which is on the side of the property where our home office is located. (side note: during the summer months they graze the pastures, helping with fire protection, and do not need supplemental hay.)

I tried not to look out the window too much, but I could feel them staring at me as I was finishing the thank yous. They are quite aware of the schedule and they are not shy to remind us when we are behind.

One funny thing – they had hay leftover from yesterday; they almost always do, but that does not matter. They want the new hay and they want it delivered on time.

Thank yous complete, I went to the old barn on the property and wrestled a half-opened bale of hay into our gator (utility vehicle). I was quite aware as I was struggling to do this that if anyone had been watching they may have thought I was attempting to perform some sort of slap-stick comedy routine; at one point I laughed out loud at myself.

I finally triumphed over the bale of hay and was able to deliver the good stuff to the bovines.

As Chad described earlier this week as part of wishing her a happy birthday, Honey is the sassiest of the bunch and does not put up with any nonsense from the humans. As they were all contentedly eating from the hay feeder, I went around to each one and pet them, even sneaking in a hug of sorts with Betsy and Nutmeg, who very graciously put up with my affection.

When I got to Honey, she looked at me askance. I touched her head gently and she flipped her head up to remove my hand. I did it again, and she repeated her head flip, but with a little less enthusiasm. And then, rather than backing away or trying to get me to back away, she returned to eating. This was progress in our slowly developing relationship, so I left it at that and left her in peace while I mucked the barn.

Four cattle leave a surprising amount to muck.

One other side note that might answer a question you have: we often use the term cattle or bovines because there are technically just three cows in the group: Honey, Betsy, and Meredith. Nutmeg is a steer (of formidable size but mostly gentle spirit), not a cow.

I finished up, luckily did not get the gator stuck in mud, and went back to the office after changing my shoes and jacket. Then I grabbed the mail to take to the post office.

As I was driving to town, I noticed that I smelled of hay and perhaps a bit of manure, and I thought to myself that this is why I love living where we do. No need to put on any airs, you know what I mean?

I reached up to scratch my head, a piece of hay fell into my lap, and my finger got stuck in what I quickly realized was smoothie.

I had served Mave, Willy B, and Honey B breakfast earlier. Honey B likes to hang on to her smoothie cup herself. She had stopped drinking from it and I reached for it, thinking she was done, and she proceeded to spit a mouthful of smoothie on my forehead. Honey B could also be described as sassy; maybe there’s something in the name.

So, for the second time that day, while all alone, I laughed out loud at myself.

What a very strange and enchanted life I have, going to the post office with chimpanzee-spit smoothie in my hair and smelling of cattle.

Truly, it is enchanted. Here’s that video which is also above. I took the first bit of this video last week and J.B. took the other clips today:

J.B. also got some great photos of Betsy and Meredith today:

Betsy (foreground) and Meredith behind her
Betsy in profile with her thick winter coat
Meredith
Betsy and Meredith with the neighbor’s horses in the background
gratuitous photo of handsome Willy B by J.B.
messy paper double chimpanzee nest found in the loft of the playroom this morning

 

Sweet and Sassy Honey Turns 13!

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Today, Honey Cow turns 13 years old! Here are a few facts about Honey!

Honey and her bovine family recently celebrated her second year here. Honey is one special bovine. Of the four cattle, she wears the sassiest of pants in the bunch.

If she feels the herd is moving to slow for her liking…

She is not afraid to pass everyone up and take the lead.

When caregivers go to serve the cattle hay, minerals, or any other treat, Honey is the one of the ones to first run up to them, but will also nudge you away for being anywhere near her and her food (it sort of reminds me of when petting a cat).

Though she is not the biggest in her group, her personality is far larger than most.

She arrived here two years ago with her daughter, Meredith.

She also arrived here with her friend, Betsy, whom she was featured with in a reality television show and was saved with from the dairy industry.

You can also sponsor Honey by becoming a Bovine Buddy to her!

Happy Birthday, Honey! We couldn’t imagine not knowing you!

Riding the Waves

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The chimpanzees began their morning with a raucous exchange of displays between the two neighboring groups. Screams, barks, drumming and hoots reverberated throughout the Chimp House. The neighbor effect is very real.

The following breakfast services were predictably tense. On one side of the building, Jamie was irate that the poor human caregiver wouldn’t give her someone else’s chow bag. The white paper bag sat awkwardly in the bottom of the food chute as Jamie loudly won the ensuing argument, but Negra quietly absconded with the prize during the chaos. In the Mezzanine, Willy B flexed his dominance by intimidating the female chimps and claiming Mave’s chow bags. Willy has grown more patient and tolerant in his time here, possibly due to our efforts to promote cooperative feeding. However, like all high-ranking chimps, he still needs to assert himself occasionally. This morning was one of those moments.

Generally speaking, chimpanzee behavior is characterized by short chaotic episodes during which the social hierarchy is challenged. These conflicts can either reform existing relationship dynamics or reinforce them. Instability and tension, however, are not just unpleasant; they’re downright exhausting. Adrenaline is unsustainable and requires a long reset afterwards. For this and many other reasons, chimps spend most of their time engaged in relatively peaceful activities such as grooming, foraging, and rest. I don’t know if chimpanzees have a “love language,” but low-key quality time would probably be it.

Given today’s hectic beginning, it was not surprising that the sanctuary’s residents had calmed down by lunch. The Seven were all about doing laps around Young’s Hill, while Honey B and Mave spent a large chunk of the day grooming and playing chase. Once our team was finished scrubbing enclosures for the day, I took a moment to go sit just outside the caging in the Mezzanine and observe the chimps. Willy B was the only chimp up there, lazily turning over some blankets and toys that had just been distributed by caregivers.

Willy B stared at me for a second, made a gentle hoo, and retrieved a fluffy blue blanket that had been draped over the nearby bench. He dragged it towards me with his knuckles, stopping only when the edges of the blanket were pushed up against the bottom of the steel mesh that separated us. Willy then leaned forward and, like a collapsing Imperial AT-AT, took a gargantuan nose dive into the shaggy pile.

He laid there for some time, face buried in the folds of the blanket. It was difficult to tell if it was a moment of pure exhaustion or zen-like bliss. I followed suit, sprawling out on the smooth heated floor. He lifted his head to reveal his brown eyes, which briefly showed a flash of skepticism, before apparently deciding that it was okay for me to join him on the floor. As I laid on my back, looking up at the passing clouds through the Mezzanine’s skylights, Willy began to take longer and longer blinks until he slowly fell asleep.

Even though I’m used to the routine by now, I noted how odd it felt to see Willy B gradually drift off into a light nap. He seemed to be at ease amid his surroundings despite being a hurricane of hair and muscle just hours earlier. I also felt slightly honored that he had chosen to be in my proximity without asking for anything else. I reminded myself that the never-ending waves of chimpanzee emotion, with peaks of chaos and troughs of serenity, are not something to be necessarily battled against. Rather, they are all part of the chimpanzee experience, adding value to each other. As Anna once told me when I was learning to manage the complex dynamics among these unique chimp individuals, “you’ve gotta ride the waves.”

I decided not to take any photos of Willy B’s nap; doing so would have likely caused him to sit up and stare into the camera lens. Instead, here are some photos our team has taken of chimpanzees resting during the peaceful eyes that separate many tumultuous storms.

   

   

Have a great night, everyone!

Ellie / Buttons the Elk: Story and Update

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This post fulfills two things:
1) My long-held desire to present the tale of Buttons/Ellie the Elk as a children’s story
2) Answering your inquires from this post about what happened to our elk friend (scroll to the bottom of the story for that update)

Buttons The Magical Elk

Once upon a time, there was an elk who stood apart from her species.

She grew up an orphan, adopting humans as her herd. They named her Buttons.

She was a very curious elk and not easily frightened.

When she was about two years old, she wandered away from the farm where she grew up.

She discovered very interesting animals living at a property nearby.

Who would have guessed there was a chimpanzee sanctuary in the neighborhood?!

The chimpanzees at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest were curious about this new visitor and sometimes walked together around their outdoor habitat on opposite sides of the fence.

Jamie and Ellie bottom of Young's Hill

The humans at the sanctuary loved her. They called her Ellie, not knowing she had been named Buttons.

What a treat to have such an unusual companion!

She did cause quite a bit of mischief, however…

She wandered further and further away from her childhood home, finding more human friends in a nearby village, having many adventures, and causing more mischief.

She was an elk, after all. A large, powerful, wild animal.

Not a dog.

Nor a cat.

Nor a cow.

Her human friends worried about her future.

Shouldn’t she be with others of her kind?

One day, a small herd of wild elk passed through the sanctuary property. Her sanctuary human friends hoped Ellie would join them and discover the life of an elk. But, alas, Ellie ignored the other elk and stayed put.

Word of the magical elk traveled throughout the land, gaining the attention of officials who became concerned.

She was far too comfortable around humans, even those she did not know.

Something could go wrong. She could easily hurt someone. Someone could hurt her.

An officer in charge of wildlife decided it was finally time to find a new home for Buttons. But where?

Officer Scott knew there were elk nearby who stayed in one spot for the winter, so his team put Buttons on a trailer and moved her to this herd.

Some of her human friends in the village were very worried and even mad.

Why would they take Buttons away from her home and the people who loved her?

Her human friends at the sanctuary hoped for the best – the chance for Ellie to be an elk.

She didn’t know how to be an elk in such a big group, though. She stayed away from them and searched for a way out.

Officer Scott looked high and low for other options for Buttons. A place for her to be herself and be safe.

The sanctuary humans offered to keep her at the sanctuary, but knew that would mean she would be an elk of one and not able to wander far.

Officer Scott heard from the zoo over the tall mountains – they had a small group of elk and could take Buttons!

Buttons/Ellie had another chance to be an elk! There was even a male in the group, Goodwyn. How would Buttons react to a male of her species in a small group?

A year and a half later, the sanctuary humans asked the zoo humans how Buttons/Ellie was doing, and this is what they said:

The Roosevelt elk (cows Willow and Lily) hang out together and the Rocky Mountain elk (bull Goodwyn and Buttons) are seen mostly together. Buttons, now being the oldest of the cows, is the dominant female and enjoys pushing those young cows around. During this rut season, Goodwyn seems to direct his attention to Buttons (he’s had a vasectomy, so there will be no baby elk).

Buttons continues to be a blessing to keeper staff in her willingness to shift and engage with us. She loves her afternoon carrots and leaf eater biscuit “cookies.”

Even though Buttons was raised with people and interacted mostly with people, she certainly knows elk language and behavior, and is confident in our little herd.

Buttons had found her home. A place where she could be her mischievous self but also live with others like her.

The zoo humans even shared some beautiful photos of her at her Woodland Park Zoo home:

photo credit: John Loughlin/Woodland Park Zoo
photo credit: Jeremy Dwyer-Lindgren/Woodland Park Zoo
photo credit: Jeremy Dwyer-Lindgren/Woodland Park Zoo
photo credit: John Loughlin/Woodland Park Zoo
photo credit: Jeremy Dwyer-Lindgren/Woodland Park Zoo

 

Not long ago, as the sun was rapidly sinking, the sanctuary humans heard strange animal calls near the property. Sounds they had never heard before.

It was the loud cries of bull elk calling back and forth across the valley! The sanctuary humans rushed quietly up the hill, squinting to try to see in the dark.

When they got to the spot where Ellie used to walk on the other side of the fence with the chimpanzees, they heard heavy breathing and pounding hoofs and saw the shadowy figures of dozens of elk running through the woods.

They wondered if these elk were Ellie’s original family.

They wondered what her life would have been like if she had been able to stay in the wild.

But they know, like the chimpanzees they care for, that sometimes wild animals can’t go back to the wild.

Sometimes the happy ending isn’t perfect, but it’s still happy.