Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

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What’s in a Name?

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One question that we receive pretty frequently is whether the chimpanzees had their names before coming to the sanctuary. The answer, for all of them, is yes. The laboratories or other facilities where they were born or who acquired them, gave them both numbers and names. The numbers were tattooed somewhere on their bodies, often across their chest or inside of their thighs. These numbers are surprisingly large, but we don’t see them very often because their hair has grown over the tattoos.

With Annie, Missy, Jamie, Jody, Burrito, Foxie, and Negra, their names followed them from one laboratory to another. For Mave, Honey B, and Willy B, they were named at the laboratory LEMSIP and their names stayed with them when they went to Wildlife Waystation when they were around five years old. All of the chimpanzees have been referred to by these names for most or the entirety of their lives.

The “B” after  Honey B and Willy B’s names signified that they were the children of chimpanzee mothers who were owned by the Buckshire Corporation, the same facility that owned Annie, Missy, Jamie, Jody, Burrito, Foxie, and Negra.

Upon learning this, some people have asked if we might drop the “B” from Honey B and Willy B’s names. I have definitely thought about this. But then I think about three things…

First, they have always had and been called these names. A name is just a word, but it does provide a part of their identity. I honestly don’t know whether the chimpanzees would be bothered if we started calling them different names, but I would find it strange for people I just met to call me by a name that was different than what I had been referred to for decades. (That said, we do have nicknames for everyone that we use interchangeable with their given names, like JoJo for Jody or Bubba for Burrito. I think this is different since nicknames develop over time.)

Second, one of the tragedies that occurred in their previous lives was being separated from their mothers and/or separated from their children. It’s possible to piece together relationships and genealogy when names have not changed. An ambitious project that demonstrates this is The Last 1,000 which is chronicling the last 1,000 chimpanzee used in biomedical research and identifying when they move from laboratories to sanctuaries or when they pass away. We knew Missy’s daughter Honey B was at Wildlife Waystation because Honey B’s name had not changed. Keeping their names, in my mind, respects relationships that were torn apart and helps us remember that behind each of those names, however the names came about, is or was a unique individual.

Third, why would we change Honey B’s name but not Burrito’s or Negra’s? Burrito is a very silly name. I don’t know who named him that or how that name came about, and I don’t really care to know. I don’t think I would ever name a chimpanzee Burrito. But Burrito is Burrito. He’s grown into the chimpanzee person he is over the last eleven years at the sanctuary. His name very uniquely identifies him, but you all know him because of the colorful personality behind his name.

Here’s Burrito looking out some windows in Phase 1, the new part of the building where he’s currently living:

Negra, the word for “black” in Spanish, is an equally strange and sometimes awkward name. But when I think of Negra I don’t think about the word negra, I think of a somewhat grumpy chimpanzee with blankets over her head who is asking me for her night bag. Or I think of this Negra, who had some serious all-over-body bedhead on Saturday:

If you read my blog post a couple of days ago, you know that I had a certain connection specifically to Honey B’s name before ever meeting her, having just seen her name on a piece of paper. The dog I named Honey B after her will always remain a part of my heart. Honey B the dog somehow grew into her name almost immediately. I don’t think she had a mystical connection to the chimpanzee Honey B, but I am so glad she carried her name. Here’s a photo of Honey B the dog, in case you are curious:

Willy B, Mave, and Honey B Chimpanzee have the opportunity to create new identities at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, but I would like to honor who they are and all the people who have known them over the years by keeping the names they’ve always had. They will reveal who they are little by little and we will know them for the unique and very special chimpanzee people they have always been.

So far, even though they are still at times anxious, Jody and Missy seem to appreciate getting to know the one and only Willy B. I found them both grooming him at the same time in the greenhouse on Saturday. He doesn’t look like he’s hating this attention….

Dominance(?)

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Among captive chimpanzees, the concept of dominance can be a bit of an enigma. As we attempt to integrate the two groups of chimpanzee residents here at the sanctuary, we are having many discussions about the dominance hierarchy. Dominance isn’t the only important thing during this stressful time, but it’s still important.

In the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the adjective dominant can be defined as:

  1. commanding, controlling, or prevailing over all others
  2. very important, powerful, or successful
  3. overlooking and commanding from a superior position

These definitions, among others, can each paint a different picture of what it means to “be dominant.” Primatologists tend to use the word in relation to social rank (i.e., where an individual fits within their group’s hierarchy in relation to other individuals). In primates and many other social animals, there is abundant research on the topic of social rank and the benefits that a high rank confers. By having more opportunities to mate and obtain resources, higher-ranking individuals tend to have a greater chance at reproducing and passing on their genetic material. In this way, traits that help an individual achieve a higher social rank can be heavily advantageous. In most primate species, males and females form separate hierarchies and compete within, not between, the sexes. although the resulting structure is often clear, the mechanisms by which dominance hierarchies develop and change are complex.

Studies of free-ranging chimpanzees (e.g., Dr. Jane Goodall’s) have revealed that males and females have somewhat separate social hierarchies. Generally, adult males vie for higher rank using a combination of physical aggression, explosive displays and tactful cooperation. Adult females develop higher rank through experience and tenure. The lowest of the adult males is still usually higher than the highest female. In a community of chimps, males seem to figure out their place in the social hierarchy during adolescence.

Dominance isn’t everything though. A chimpanzee who has a dominant personality may be deficient in other aspects. There’s another component of social rank, perhaps best described as leadership, that seems to affect how long a chimp can hold the rank of alpha after climbing their way to the top. Without an ability to gain the trust of others and manage friendships, a quick, brutal ascension may result in a tragic end. Deposed alpha males can be killed or driven out by their former peers. (For more on this topic, I recommend the fascinating talk by author and primatologist Dr. Frans de Waal.)

If chimps always fought each other in peer-to-peer physical combat, dominance would be easier to study. However, chimpanzees have many ways of diffusing tension and avoiding conflict. They often do this by communicating with one another, thereby establishing boundaries and outlining expectations for how their relationships are going to be in the near future.

Instead of focusing on rare acts of violence, scientists can usually infer social rank by observing pant-grunts. A pant-grunt is a guttural vocalization, often accompanied by an exaggerated bow and/or submissive hand gesture, that is specifically directed from a subordinate towards a perceived superior. It’s a conspicuous overture and leaves little room for debate. When a mother chimpanzee pant-grunts at an adult male, her dependent infant will sometimes pant-grunt in synchrony while clinging to her belly. When a former alpha male concedes that he has lost his position to a rival male, the passing of the torch is usually marked by a conciliatory pant-grunt. Although chimps have numerous cultural traditions that vary between populations, pant-grunts can be heard in almost every chimpanzee social group, captive or otherwise.

Willy B watches another interaction while eating his own food

The Cle Elum Seven are no different. Burrito, although he lacks a dominant personality and seems uninterested in leadership, sporadically receives pant-grunts from the females (even Jamie). Pant-grunts between the six females are rare, although I sometimes see Negra receive them from her peers. Aside from Negra, who generally avoids drama, we usually infer that Jamie is the most dominant female based on her aggressive demeanor and possessiveness. When a situation gets hairy, Jamie’s side is usually the side to be on. Like Burrito, though, Jamie appears to be a poor leader. As Jake’s study of their dominance hierarchy indicated, Jamie’s excessive dominance and unusual social behavior may actually prevent her from being a good leader.

Negra peruses a magazine for peanut butter smears

Rather than constantly beating back rivals and taking their food, an effective leader quashes conflicts before they start and often allows minor transgressions to slide. For example, when the new three arrived, Willy B showed tolerance and tenderness towards his female companions. They, in turn, groomed and acknowledged him. That’s why, as J.B. has often said, we’re hoping that Willy B will step up to be a good alpha, thus providing some stability. So far, Willy B has not revealed himself to be a tyrant or a bully, so he may be the keystone individual that CSNW needs to have a cohesive, stable chimpanzee community.

Mave grooms Willy B the day after their arrival.

With Jody, Annie and Missy now in a state of cohabitation with the new three, they have all been cautious and submissive towards Willy B. In turn, Willy has remained stoic amid all the drama. He seems to be equally interested in the new surroundings and still focuses on his favorite foods. He’s observant and reserved, but not overly reactive. All he has to do is sit there and the females will pant-grunt at him anyway. Of course, it sometimes helps to acknowledge their efforts, but he certainly doesn’t over-do it.

Willy B investigates the Greenhouse

Somewhat surprisingly, the other females have also been submissive towards Mave. It’s possible that, in the absence of fellow males, Mave has evolved into Willy’s biggest supporter. She is definitely playing a peacekeeper role, and may be helping Willy B to keep his alpha status. It will be interesting to see whether Burrito and Jamie, who are both relatively dominant, recognize Willy as their leader. There may be some drama before we get to that point, but the goal is to give the chimps what they need to form a sustainable and healthy social group.

Willy B (male, left) and Mave (female, right)
Mave
During a sweet moment, Honey B gingerly places the end of a firehose vine in Jody’s mouth. Two two seem to view each other as peers and have been exchanging frequent overtures

An Unlikely Story About Honey B

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This is a story I first told at our gala in June. Though now it has a very exciting ending or maybe more of a beginning of an ending. It’s a lot of words… feel free to skim and skip down to the photos of Honey B I took today.

PREFACE

I don’t myself believe in fate, but I could see how this tale might be interesting for those who do believe in predestination.

CHAPTER ONE

The story begins when I was working at a sanctuary called the Fauna Foundation in Quebec, Canada. The fifteen chimpanzees that I worked with at Fauna had all been used in biomedical testing at a laboratory called LEMSIP in upstate New York. When LEMSIP was closing in the late 1990s, there was a scramble, led by LEMSIP’s head veterinarian, to get the chimpanzees into sanctuaries instead of being shipped to the Coulston Foundation, a laboratory in New Mexico that was ill-regarded even within the laboratory community and had amassed numerous animal welfare violations.

The sanctuary world was very small at that time and there were not many places for chimpanzees. Gloria Grow, founder of the Fauna Foundation, had never cared for chimpanzees before, but she had a sanctuary for wayward farmed animals and she wanted to do something more.

A former LEMSIP employee had given Gloria a list from 1993 of all of the chimpanzees who lived at LEMSIP. We would pour over that list, looking for relatives of the 15 chimpanzees who arrived at Fauna in 1996. She helped to identify where some of the other chimpanzees went, whether to other sanctuaries or to Coulston.

Over the course of the three years I worked at Fauna, I spent hours looking at that list with Gloria’s handwritten notes on it. I wondered about the personalities behind all of those names. I wondered if they were okay.

I don’t know why, but some of the names just stuck with me. Honey B was one of the names on that list.

I had heard that Honey B was the half sister of Jethro, a large adolescent guy at Fauna who loved to play chase. I knew that Jethro, Honey B, and another chimpanzee at Fauna, Binky, had all been together in the “nursery” at LEMSIP after they were taken from their mothers.

 

CHAPTER TWO

In 2005, I found myself outside of New Orleans at a shelter that was taking care of dogs and cats that had been left behind after Hurricane Katrina. This was a few years after J.B. and I left Fauna for other academic and professional adventures. We were living in upstate New York at the time, and there was no way (well, maybe there was a small way) I was planning on bringing home a dog to our peaceful feline household.

But a dog at the shelter adopted me and her owners did not want her back. She was not the dog I would have chosen if I had been deliberately searching for a pup. She chased cats and didn’t want anything to do with other dogs, or other people for that matter. But she decided I was her person, and I accepted this without questioning it for very long. I broke the news to J.B. over the phone and he also didn’t question it.

Now, we needed a name for her. The name that I landed on was Honey B. Not Honey Bee, though I’m sure that’s what most people thought of when I mentioned her name. No, this somewhat surly Chow Chow from Louisiana that was my new best friend was named after a chimpanzee I had never met.

 

CHAPTER THREE

Honey B the dog, J.B., me, and our three cats (Cuba, LouLou, and Peanut) moved from our Victorian house in upstate New York to work at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest in 2008, just a month before Annie, Missy, Jody, Jamie, Foxie, Burrito, and Negra arrived from Buckshire, the laboratory holding facility where they had lived for decades. Buckshire leased out the chimpanzees they owned to different laboratories, including LEMSIP before it closed down.

Buckshire provided us with some of the medical records of the seven chimpanzees who now called Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest and Cle Elum, Washington their home. I was looking through Missy’s record, and lo and behold, I discovered that she was the mother of the chimpanzee Honey B! I dug up the old LEMSIP list that for some reason I had moved with me from Quebec to Massachusetts to New York to Washington and confirmed this information.

I thought, “what are the odds of that?!”

Honey B the dog didn’t pay much attention to the chimpanzees, but after the chimps’ two-acre outdoor area, Young’s Hill, was built, J.B. and I would take her on walks around the outside of the perimeter fence. Despite her lack of affection for more than a few (okay, two) people, she was a really easygoing dog in a lot of ways and didn’t need to be on a leash. Every once in a while, she and Missy would run down the hill on opposite sides of the fence together.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

In May of this year, I learned that the chimpanzees at Wildlife Waystation were in need of new homes. I knew that Honey B the chimpanzee, the daughter of Missy and the namesake to my beloved now-deceased Chow Chow, lived there. I had still never met her. Side-note: Missy’s son Josh also lives at Wildlife Waystation.

We were just wrapping up the first phase of the expansion at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, expecting to bring three or four chimpanzees in need to (hopefully) expand the chimpanzee family of seven.

After visiting Wildlife Waystation, we knew we could and needed to immediately help at least some of the chimpanzees there. J.B. and I met all of the 42 chimpanzees. They are all wonderful and deserving. Their groups vary in size, but there were only three groups of an appropriate number for us to consider bringing to CSNW. After talking to the care staff about personalities, it seemed clear that Honey B and her group mates Willy B and Mave, would have the best chance of integrating into our group of seven.

Less than three months later, J.B. and I drove down to California and returned with Honey B the chimpanzee and her two friends.

Four days ago, mother Missy and daughter Honey B touched each other for the first time after 30 years of being apart. It was clear from the records we have that Honey B was taken from Missy when she was less than a day old, and there’s no indication that they recognize they are related, but we hope there’s a chance they will become friends.

Left to right: Honey B, Missy, Annie

Nobody Puts Bubba in a Corner!

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Today was a chilly autumn Sunday. Many parts of the Inland Northwest received their first snowfall last night, and much of the Cascades was covered in a dusting of white powder. Down here in the canyon, the weather was damp and cool and the skies were gray.

The chimps were slow to perk up this morning and seemed a bit groggy, making me think that they might spend the whole day napping and grooming in the Playroom. I watched Burrito for a bit before breakfast; he had a difficult time keeping his eyes open as he sat on one of the benches, and it made me smile. He lazily rolled over and drifted off several times, only regaining his alertness each time he heard promising sounds from the kitchen. It felt oddly familiar.

Negra even stopped by to participate in a quick session of grooming, but Burrito only gave her a few minutes of attention before redirecting his gaze out the window and returning to his solitude.

Everything changed when we walked around the building to open the door to Young’s Hill. Burrito and the others immediately got excited. His sideburns stood on end and his demeanor changed completely.

Lately, the seasonal shift has not deterred the Seven from enjoying Young’s Hill. Instead, they seem to relish the outdoors even more now that the weather is gloomy and wet. After being here for over a decade, the Seven are true residents of the Pacific Northwest and seem to embrace the mild temperatures of spring and fall. As I recently overheard one Washingtonian say, “I’ll pass on snow and heat, but I’ll hike in the rain all day.”

In true Northwest fashion, the Seven set out into the wilderness of Young’s Hill. Burrito led the way.

We have been excited to let the chimps go outside for the past few days because we just completed a modest expansion of the Young’s Hill enclosure. J.B. led the extension of the electric fencing downhill so that the perimeter now links up to the end of the shiny new chute (and the recently-constructed wing that houses Willy B, Mave and Honey B). We will soon be updating our followers about the new three and their gradual introduction to the outdoors, but for now the Seven long-time residents are exploring the additional space and using it to get a better view of their new surroundings

Today, Missy and Burrito each spent some time in front of the steel gateway leading into the chute. Burrito displayed and Missy even attempted to open the hydraulic door to crawl inside. Both seemed to be eager to get inside the building and come face-to-face with their new neighbors. (Fortunately for us, the doors are sturdy and didn’t budge in either scenario.)

Back in the Chimp House, the new arrivals (“The Californians”?) spent most of the day playing and lounging but immediately peered out of their bedrooms each time that one of the seven walked by. Willy B seemed most interested in Jamie and her foraging skills, while Mave tried to pant at Burrito through the sealed window. Honey B was more focused on the caregivers and kept nodding at us and soliciting attention as we completed tasks nearby.

It’s always interesting to see how quickly chimpanzees can alter their mood, thereby exhibiting a completely different set of behaviors. It still amazes me to see all ten of them snoozing in various corners of the Chimp House then suddenly hear a thunderstorm of pant-hoots, drumming and screams resonating throughout the building.

Even as the mornings get colder and the chimps spend more time in their overnight nests, it’s reassuring to see that they can still make a little excitement for themselves on a gloomy autumn day.

 

Four Thousand Sleeps

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As I’m writing this, the chimp house is very, very quiet. The most noticeable sound is the hum from the printer on the desk next to me – a sound  that is downed out during the day when there is a bustle of activity on the part of the humans and often loud chimpanzee vocalizations coming from both wings of the building.

In this moment, all ten chimpanzees are deep asleep after a full day of exploration, eating, socializing, playing, and displaying.

Chimpanzees are masters at sleeping. Seeing a chimp either casually day-napping or deep into a night’s sleep makes me want to close my own eyes and drift into that other world of unconsciousness.

Burrito, Annie, Jody, Jamie, Negra, Foxie, and Missy have had (if I did the math correctly) 4,122 sleepful nights at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest.

BURRITO

 

ANNIE

 

JODY

 

JAMIE

 

NEGRA

 

FOXIE

 

MISSY

 

Willy B, Mave, and Honey B have only been here 41 days. I think this photo that Katelyn took recently is the only close-up we have of any of those three sleeping. Hopefully we will have many, many more days to capture and share images of their unique faces in peaceful slumber.

WILLY B

Goodnight from everyone at the sanctuary. Sleep well.

Beautiful Jamie

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The seven chimpanzees are pretty busy these days trying to keep up with/spy on/display toward/get excited over the happenings of the new neighbors. And when nothing much seems to be happening with the new neighbors, the seven are quick to stir the pot, if you will, anxious for responses from Mave, Honey B and Willy B. They haven’t been as interested in spending their usual amount of time with the humans or other typical activities.

Lately, Jamie has even been forgetting to collect her boots from the chute at night! So when I saw her sitting in the front rooms in an as of late, rare, quiet moment I had to scurry down the hall with the camera. (I am laughing and shaking my head as I type this because while everyone else is in bed for the night, Jamie is at this very second, repeatedly kicking the “howdy door” and hooting and screaming at the top of her lungs attempting to elicit a sign of life from her neighbors who are all quietly tucked into their nests for the evening and choosing to ignore their loud and unruly neighbor).

They are who they are. And we love them all the more for it.

Happy autumn everyone!