Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

Hope. Love. Home. Sanctuary

chimps

4,392 Days of Summer

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I used to live my life for the summers.

Growing up in a maritime New England town, summer was always the “best” season. The warm weather and sandy coastline brought tourists from all over, and my teenage friends and I spent those months playing baseball, mowing lawns, and bringing Dunkin iced coffees to our favorite beaches. Even though I moved to a big city and academics took over, I still wanted to live my life in a permanent state of summer vacation and I developed this dream of expatriating to the tropics and staying there. As a naive young biologist, my plan was to track wild primates through jungles all morning and end each day with a bottle of rum in a hammock overlooking some turquoise lagoon. (Don’t ask me how I planned to fund that kind of lifestyle.)

In an unexpected turn of events, I now reside in an arid place far from the ocean where the summers are short, windy and dry. I’ve grown to respect the other seasons and, for some reason, I can now see the beauty in even the most frigid, gloomy, foggy, damp, and dusty landscapes. The Pacific Northwest is a natural marvel; it’s truly a wonder that the snow-capped Cascades can exist so close to the mossy forests of the Olympic coast, the dusty shrub-steppe of the Columbia plateau, and the wind-blown grasslands of the Palouse. Out here, there’s no such thing as perfect weather; there is just weather, and you better have the right gear for it.

Now, the central region of Washington state is transitioning from a cool and wet spring into a dry and hazy summer. Yesterday was the official solstice, but we have had golden sunlight well into the evenings for the whole month of June. The cattle are grazing heartily on the prairie grasses and make daily pilgrimages back to their watering hole before finding some afternoon shade below the pines. Jamie and the gang have been taking advantage of the extra daylight to go on more group patrols out in their grassy enclosure, and Willy B and his friends have been napping in the Courtyard and sunbathing in the outdoor chute.

I sometimes wonder if, in some abstract way, the summer months have a similar effect on the chimpanzees as they had on adolescent me. As I watch them chase each other around the Hill, harvest wild greens, sunbathe in the Greenhouse and slurp down chunks of avocado and watermelon, it’s easy to forget just how much the chimps also enjoy crunching on icicles, taking in the crisp fall breeze and napping on rainy days. Like true residents of the Pacific Northwest, they can make the most of any season and aren’t deterred by a little precipitation. Although they may not have the same sentimental attachment to summer that I once had, I hope that their entire sanctuary experience gives them a similar sense of freedom, with their only objective being to do whatever they feel like doing within the confines of their sheltered home. Since they’ve just celebrated the twelfth anniversary of their retirement to sanctuary, they have now had 4,392 consecutive days of vacation. That’s a whole lot o’ summer.

Of course, there are those who generally prefer the comforts of the indoors and the word “vacation” just means that they don’t need to get out of bed. To these individuals, the seasonal changes really don’t seem to matter too much and just seem to flow around them. The chief of these stoic couch-potatoes is Negra. “The Queen” will occasionally venture out to participate in an outdoor forage, but she generally has the same low-key itinerary each day, rain or shine. Today, she napped in the Greenhouse under a pile of fleece blankets while the other chimps engaged in summer fun out on the Hill. Happy four-thousand, three-hundred and ninety-second day of summer break, Neggie.

The After-Party

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Chad and I were just watching Honey B sitting on a pile of enrichment as a dragon would perch upon piles of stolen treasure. Chad remarked “Honey B is the kind of person who would leave their Halloween decorations up for months afterwards.” He’s right.

With all of the celebrating we’ve been doing lately, we’re standing beside her decision to preserve her hoard. Heck, we’ll even help her out.

This past week, we celebrated Honey B’s first birthday as a resident of CSNW (her 31st overall). Then, we briefly paused to celebrate Animal Sanctuary Caregiver Day with some vegan pizza and a group walk around Young’s Hill with the chimps. Finally, the festivities culminated in yesterday’s massive birthday bash to celebrate Negra’s 47th year on Earth (and her 12th as a fully-retired sanctuary resident).

In addition to reflecting on the twelve years since the chimps arrived, we’ve also been absolutely thrilled with the success of our virtual online event, the Queen’s Brunch, through which we will continue to provide for chimpanzees. If you’re inclined to bid on any remaining items or simply make a donation, the event is still going on! In light of everything that has gone on this year, we are blown away by how amazing our supporters have been. This most recent outpouring of contributions, along with all of the assistance we had received previously, has been incredible. Thank you.

Today’s blog features a video of Honey B looking proudly content amid the piles of craft paper, plastic toys and fleece blankets that are left over from her epic birthday party. As J.B. mentioned on Friday, Honey B was reluctant to leave her spread of enrichment items so the crew decided to put everything back as soon as they were done cleaning the floors. We continued that tradition today, and will probably continue to do so until Honey B is ready for some new experiences. For now, though, we’re enjoying the after-party as much as she is.

Happy birthday, dude.

Health and Happiness

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Here at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, we take the physical health of our residents quite seriously.

Each day, the staff works as a team to make sure all of the essential tasks get done, and one necessary chore is the administration of medications to individual chimpanzees. Today, Chad was responsible for getting everyone their prescribed doses and recommended dietary supplements. Currently, we monitor conditions and treatments using paper forms that we then transcribe into a digital database. One of my ongoing projects is to coordinate our transition to a more modern system that allows us to record, discuss, warehouse, summarize and retrieve all of this information in a more centralized fashion. It’s a daunting endeavor, but I’m hopeful that it will enable us to be more efficient while continuing to provide the chimps with optimal health care.

The whiteboard, currently

Some of the chimps’ health concerns are chronic conditions that require long-term solutions. Burrito, for example, receives a daily cocktail of meds to manage his known heart condition. At other times, we may give chimpanzees short courses of anti-inflammatory or antibiotic drugs to help temporary wounds heal. It’s no secret that primates, even in the best conditions, occasionally have altercations that result in injury, so the number of individual chimps on meds waxes and wanes on a weekly basis. Right now, Jody and Foxie are being treated for unrelated, minor bite wounds located on each of their right feet. Jody’s injured foot is the same one that Dr. Erin investigated during her most recent trip to our on-site veterinary clinic. For the most part, though, the other chimps have been loyally serving as Jody’s primary “doctors” by keeping the site clean. Hygiene is almost always a group project for social primates such as chimpanzees, so it’s normal to see them tending to each other’s injuries as the lacerations and bruises slowly heal.

Annie (back left) and Missy (right) groom Jody (laying down)
Jody groomed Foxie a few weeks ago; what goes around comes around!

The cattle have also received some preventative health care lately. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with bovines, their feet are covered by cloven (two-toed) hooves. These structures are composed of keratin, just like claws and nails. The hooves of domestic cattle grow at a constant rate because their wild ancestors ranged across vast steppes and prairies; the constant travel across such rough substrate would gradually wear down their hooves if they didn’t offset the process with new growth.

Betsy, one of the four cattle

Modern cattle, especially those inhabiting large-scale dairies and ranches, need their hooves trimmed regularly since they generally roam over shorter distances and softer terrain. The CSNW cattle have been exploring and grazing a variety of areas since they arrived, including the sanctuary’s expansive South Pasture, so they don’t need trims as frequently as other cows. Still, they need to have their feet checked and their hooves trimmed at least once a year (although we delayed this last trim due to the public health crisis). Overgrown hooves could lead to further problems, such as painful split nails, so we scheduled a professional hoof trimmer to take care of them this past week. He was excited to help out a sanctuary and was awed by Nutmeg’s massive frame. In the beef and dairy industries, steers like Nutmeg don’t live long enough to reach that size. He took a selfie with Nutmeg to show his friends and family, and the gigantic bovine seemed to make a new friend.

The professional trimmer shaves down Honey’s hooves
Nutmeg licks the truck…

The trimming process is fascinating and, admittedly, a bit tense. The cattle have to be herded into a small corral and then led one-by-one down a chute into a tilt table. The tilt table firmly sandwiches them while they’re standing upright and then tips them on their side so that the trimmer can safely shave down the ends of their hooves. This step goes remarkably fast, though, and also gave Dr. Erin an opportunity to give the cattle their injectable annual vaccines. Within seconds, each cow is lowered back down and released. You’d think that they would be upset or afraid, but each of them seemed more interested in the trimmer’s truck and table apparatus. Nutmeg tried to sniff and lick everything, including the truck itself. Just minutes later, the cattle were already marching back to the pasture like nothing had happened.

…and does a blorp.

Of course, health involves much more than medications and procedures. Over the past few decades, countless studies have supported that there are both tangible and intangible health benefits generated from having active lifestyles and enriching environments. Professionals in our field generally use the term enrichment to refer to puzzles, nesting materials, play structures, and other provisions that were once considered non-essential. More broadly, the term can be used to encompass anything and everything that contributes to the health and happiness of the chimpanzees. Burrito’s sanctuary experience, for example, is often enriched by rowdy play sessions in the Greenhouse. Foxie’s is enriched by a variety of dolls. Jamie’s is enriched by exposure to new footwear (and pictures of footwear arranged in a photo book, apparently).

Burrito goofs around outside
Foxie sits in the Greenhouse with a doll
Jamie sits inside with her new book

That brings me to today’s video (embedded above). One of the caregivers on the Saturday shift (Diana? Kelsi? Anna? J.B.?) threw a roll of surplus raffle tickets into the enrichment baskets that were specially prepared for this morning. Maybe the idea was inspired by the ongoing virtual auction and upcoming Queen’s Brunch celebration. (Note: You can see the items up for auction > here <. Have you seen the print of Willy B that’s receiving bids? What a cool-looking dude…)

Mave lays amid the shredded tickets

Whatever the case, the raffle tickets were a hit with Honey B, Mave and Willy B, and we all took a break from our chores to watch them roll around in the piles of torn paper. Staying healthy, after all, can’t be done purely through paperwork and pills. Sometimes it’s having fun (and watching chimpanzees have fun) that makes the biggest difference. Burrito knows this well.

 

 

 

 

“Inspiration is for Amateurs”

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Today’s day of sanctuary (including this blog post) was sponsored by Jenara Miller to celebrate the birthday of our dedicated supporter, Carrie Miller. Carrie is a friend of ours and is a pal of Burrito’s, and we wish her entire family nothing but happiness as they commemorate this special occasion!

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Speaking of anniversaries, it’s almost been a year since I joined the CSNW staff last summer. It’s been a weird trip around the sun, to say the least, but there is nowhere else I would rather be despite all of the unusual circumstances. In the absence of a global pandemic, our organization would currently be preparing for our annual gala and auction which has traditionally occurred every summer in Seattle. With the event postponed, we’re hosting an online auction and a spectacular event called the Queen’s Brunch (and bidding starts tomorrow!). In this way, we plan to celebrate the birthdays of Honey B and Negra while uniting our community virtually. As the new mantra goes: Together, apart.

It’s very exciting, but that’s not what this entire blog post is about. This post is a case study.

When people ask me what the best part of my job is, my default answer is always, to keep it simple, “the chimpanzees.” It’s an answer based on subjective truth. They’re really, really great, even when they’re at their worst.

To be honest, though, there are more specific reasons why I love working at this unique sanctuary.

As caregivers at CSNW, a significant responsibility of ours is to serve as advocates, historians, and storytellers for the chimpanzees since they cannot act as such for themselves. Some organizations are large enough to employ personnel specifically for this purpose, but our small team shares the workload on a rotating basis. Our most valuable tool for this (as you may have guessed by now) is the sanctuary’s blog. I had already been a blog reader for a couple of years before I first visited the sanctuary as an intern, and I developed an appreciation for and familiarity with the individual chimpanzees through this virtual experience.

Years later, I’m occasionally on the other side of the keyboard. It’s certainly a privilege to write the blog each Sunday, and it’s sometimes unnerving to imagine hundreds of people receiving my words in their email inboxes. It can also be difficult to keep the content fresh and original without veering too far away from our reader’s comfort zones. We constantly walk the line between being creative and being familiar, and we hope to entertain just as much as we strive to inform. When you divide a year’s worth of daily posts among seven staff members, we each write about fifty-two posts annually and each one ends up being a new page in the documented history of the Cle Elum chimpanzees.

That’s a lot of creative work that needs to be completed amid all of the other tasks that we caregivers are also expected to get done (including everything from cleaning the drain filters to walking around the Hill with Jamie). Therefore, although writing the blog can be fun and is always rewarding, it can sometimes feel like another chore to add to our never-ending to-do list.

Today, I went to work with a rough idea of today’s blog theme in my head. This is NOT it. As the day progressed, my tentative ideas unraveled. By mid-afternoon, I had trashed the entire concept and was ready to move on. The necessary decision to change directions left me without a plan as the clock continued to tick. I wasn’t too worried, though. Blogs tend to work themselves out. I doubt that J.B. started his day on Friday with the expectation that Foxie would turn a routine session of positive reinforcement training into a heartwarming and hilarious game of tag. In the words of renowned artist Chuck Close,

“Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work. If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightning to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work. All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself… Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.”

So, I got to work. In this case, “work” consisted of disinfecting an enclosure, looking at some stool samples in the vet clinic, and then following Burrito’s excited head-nods and poignant sputters out to the Greenhouse for a rowdy game of chase. I had my camera with me, just in case one of the other chimps was napping photogenically in a sunbeam or something. Capturing photos of a rambunctious Burrito isn’t usually an option, so taking his picture didn’t even cross my mind. Usually, his style of chase involves banging on the caging, stomping around, and poking fingers and toes through the steel mesh that separates him from his human caregivers. He’s a flurry of limbs and laughter that cannot be captured.

He surprised me with a flash of opportunity, though, and I was unexpectedly prepared. Between his joyful bounces and hearty chuckles, he suddenly flopped onto his belly and calmly stared at me. Time seemed to slow down for a second. I lifted the camera up to my squinted eye and fired the shutter, expecting him to already be a shapeless blur by the time the photons hit the sensor. Shockingly, he laid in that prone position for what felt like a few seconds, allowing the tiny computer in my digital camera to construct several portraits of his goofy and lovable face. Even after he sat back up, he stayed just far enough away from the caging for my 35mm lens to keep him in focus for a few more snaps. Just like that, going to work had given me inspiration. You can all thank Burrito for today’s blog.

 

The Saga of Willy B

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Right now, I know that many folks are struggling to adjust to the new normal: a degree of social isolation, economic strife and general mistrust that rails against our innate drives to be together. No matter what we believe should be happening right now, I think it’s safe to say that most of us are frustrated, worried, and even exasperated. We want this to be over, but it won’t end.

Instead, we must look at our own lifestyles, identify the things that truly bring us fulfillment, and work to keep those fires lit even as boredom, anxiety, loneliness and grief do their best to snuff them out.

Amid this uncertain period of perpetual unease, one new development in particular is giving us all some inspiration: the methodical progress and unexpected bravery of Willy B.

I could sit here writing about this chapter of Willy B’s story for hours on end. Given the gradual adjustment of the three new chimpanzees to life at CSNW, punctuated by a couple heartbreaking setbacks, Willy’s recent exploits have given his tale the flavor of an odyssey. It’s now a epic saga of sorts, complete with a courageous, endearing and hairy little hero. Lately, he seems to be on a vague quest with a yet undetermined goal.

In recent weeks, I think that other staff have done an amazing job describing each step in his journey. If you’re looking to catch up, I suggest skimming the previous blog posts about Willy, the Courtyard, and the tall wooden structure that he is gradually conquering one ladder rung at a time. If you are really feeling ambitious, you could skip back to last June when we first announced that we would be welcoming three chimpanzees from the Wildlife Waystation, including a mysterious dominant male named Willy B.

Today, I’m focusing on one particular chapter describing one short event. It occurred over the span of an hour today in the Courtyard.

We’ve been setting food items in small caches throughout the Courtyard to entice Willy B and the others to explore. Gradually, Willy B’s bottomless appetite is leading him to venture into parts unknown. He recently made sporadic forays out onto the boardwalk until he determined that each section was safe. He then grew comfortable sitting at the end of the boardwalk and began to investigate the base of the multi-tiered wooden structure that it leads to. Last week, he climbed the tower, and he has been slowly acclimatizing to the new sensations of sitting on wood decking, perching high above the ground, and being able to see clear over the Chimp House. He’s made tremendous progress, but there are still areas of the Courtyard that he has yet to explore. For example, the structure has two thin spits of decking that jut out toward the rest of Young’s Hill. These pier-like extensions are connected by a web of twisted vines (“the ropes”) and a large hammock, all made from repurposed firehose.

Here is an old photo of caregiver Chad testing out the hammock after it was first made and hung inside the building. It was moved outdoors when we realized that the chimps didn’t seem interested unless we placed food on it.

 

Today, I placed a whole apple on the hammock. Willy B will do almost anything for an apple, but I wasn’t sure if he’d have the confidence to go after this one. He’s an athletic and intelligent individual with a bold personality, but he’s not as skilled at climbing as an adult chimpanzee should be.

Well, he tried. He tried hard.

First, he scouted the area.

Then, he tested whether the new sections of decking were safe to sit on. They were.

Suddenly, shockingly, Willy B dropped down below the decking and swung himself over towards the hammock.

He was so close. But then, with the visible apple just out of reach, he turned back. It seems that he wasn’t yet confident in his ability to make the final swing over to the hammock. From the safety of the decking, he surveyed the area from above a second time.

He dropped down again and swung back to the hammock, gripping the firehose vines with his chubby chimpanzee feet.

This wasn’t the right moment to try out the hammock, though. He backtracked all the way to the safest spot in the Courtyard at the base of the structure. There, he checked in on the neighbors, nibbled on a slice of tomato, and let out a muted display.

After expressing himself as only a chimpanzee can, he gave the ropes another try.

Again, he retreated and regrouped.

He mustered up the bravery and strength to make one more push. He got so close, but seemed hesitant to put any weight on the hammock and did not reach out to grab the apple.

Willy b even thought about lowering himself to the ground to find a new route over to the hammock, but he apparently decided the dirt and grass were too strange for today. He paused, suspended from the decking with his toes skimming the blades of grass, and then hoisted himself back up without ever planting his heels on the firm ground below.

Fortunately for Willy B, he gets several apples each day (along with many other nutritious foods). Importantly, he’ll get another shot at the elusive hammock apple for as many days as he needs. If he’s ambitious enough, he’ll conquer the ropes tomorrow just as he has so many other unusual obstacles in his path. We’re hopeful that he will eventually grow to enjoy climbing and exploring even without the promise of a shiny red apple to propel him forward, just as a chimpanzee should. Either way, I look forward to watching the saga continue.

Another Few Steps, Another Adventure

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The sanctuary has a relatively small staff, so each of us knows how to do the essential duties and can safely manage the sanctuary on any given day.

Still, we all have certain skills and interests that translate to specialized roles apart from the core caregiving responsibilities. Anna leads the volunteers and staff, Katelyn manages the office, Kelsi coordinates our outreach program, Chad curates the enrichment program and has a mustache, Dr. Erin is the dedicated veterinarian, and I have started focusing on projects related to animal health and behavior. At the helm of all this are the sanctuary’s co-directors who do most things as a team (although Diana is chiefly responsible for the development of the organization while J.B. primarily oversees the sanctuary’s operations).

It’s somewhat unusual for sanctuary directors to participate in activities like cleaning enclosures, maintaining the property and folding laundry. Anyone who knows Diana and J.B., however, won’t be surprised to read that they are still involved in various tasks around the sanctuary on a daily basis. For example, it’s not unusual to see J.B. play chase with Burrito, fly the drone, do hours of office work, hang up safety signs, drive to Wenatchee to pick up produce, help serve chimp dinner, weld together a Foot Box, and then mow the lawn in the span of a single work day. Diana and J.B. have regular shifts when they are scheduled to do chimpanzee care, but that doesn’t prevent them from helping out on most of the days in between. Sometimes, they even do things for the chimpanzee and bovine residents when we’re not expecting them to be working at all.

That’s exactly what happened this morning.

As Sunday’s lead caregiver (a responsibility we all share on a rotating basis), I pulled into the driveway a little before 9:00am. I always scan the surroundings as I cruise up the dirt road towards the Chimp House, but my heart skipped a beat this morning because there were cattle in a place where we don’t usually have cattle. Had anyone been sitting in the passenger seat, they would have heard me mumble “Oh, $#%&.”

Betsy, Honey, Meredith and Nutmeg were trotting around the expansive pasture which separates the chimpanzee’s outdoor enclosure from the neighboring ranch to the South. As of Thursday evening (the last time I was here), the fencing was incomplete and it looked like it might be a few more days, if not weeks, before the pasture would be ready for our herd of four rescued bovines. Some projects, such as giving the cattle their spring hoof trim and breaking ground on the new wing of chimpanzee enclosures, have been temporarily postponed due to the ongoing public health crisis. We had previously discussed hurrying the fencing project to give the cattle some more grass to turn into mass and gas, but it was unclear when we would get around to it.

Before accelerating up the driveway, I squinted at the distant fence-line and was both relieved and shocked to see that the posts were connected by shimmering aluminum wire. This wasn’t a jailbreak event and the cattle were still safely enclosed. Someone had finished securely enclosing the pasture.

I looked further up the hill and eventually spotted J.B. on the Gator, proudly watching over the three cows and one enormous steer-child. Sure enough, he had just finished enclosing the pasture by himself on a Sunday morning so that the cattle could have a full day to acclimate to their new digs. I probably shouldn’t be surprised by this sort of thing anymore. It’s become normal that the sanctuary looks like a slightly different place every time that I leave for a few days, and little changes can accumulate quickly. It really makes me appreciate how Anna can return from a three-month maternity leave and jump right back into managing the Chimp House during a global pandemic. To see such changes taking place, even in the most uncertain of times, is evidence of the slow but steady growth of the sanctuary.

That wasn’t the only big change to happen while I was away. We have recently been brainstorming ways to help Willy B, Honey B and Mave to adventure out into their section of Young’s Hill. On Friday, just two days after we all decided to start putting out more food on the boardwalk that extends out into the grassy enclosure, Willy B took his first steps out of the chute and into the open courtyard in order to retrieve some scattered food. Even though he appeared hesitant and calculating, it also clearly took some extraordinary guts. We’re not sure when the new three were last able to walk on real grass or go outside without caging overhead (if ever), so Young’s Hill must be a scary place for them. I wasn’t at the sanctuary on Friday, but I was happily bombarded by texts and videos from the staff who were working. Willy did it again on Saturday and I, once again, spent my afternoon smiling while watching the uplifting video over and over on my couch at home.

Today, I had the joy of seeing two amazing events first-hand: Willy going out into the courtyard for a third straight day and the cattle being brave enough to venture out into a new pasture. It’s strange to see how the two events parallel each other despite the obvious fact that cattle and chimpanzees behave quite differently. I’m ecstatic that the sanctuary’s residents are opening up to new experiences, regardless of whether they have hooves or big hairy feet. I’m also really proud of our sanctuary’s team (and community of supporters) for providing them with these opportunities to go beyond their past experiences. It gives me confidence to see us surging forward, one little unexpected step at a time.

The Cattle
Betsy
Honey
Meredith
Honey (L), Betsy (C), Nutmeg (R)
Nutmeg (L) and Betsy (R) [Note that despite the obvious size difference, Betsy is actually Nutmeg’s mother]
Honey
A swallow perched on the electric fence today
The view from the sanctuary during last week’s initial wildflower bloom
Missy eating a kiwi while watching J.B. drive around the pasture this morning

The Honey B Chonk

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Chimpanzees are intelligent, emotional, and complex. They deserve the utmost respect.

This is their home and their retirement, and it’s their right to be however they want to be. This fact makes me appreciate how chimpanzees can be not only relaxed but also downright goofy. When they group is in a playful mood, even the most stoic of chimps can be a total dork. For us caregivers, stopping to appreciate these weird moments helps to keeps things lighthearted and reminds us what this sanctuary thing is all about. It’s perfectly okay to laugh along with them.

In the past, we’ve highlighted some of the comical new behaviors that the chimpanzees invent in their spare time (e.g., Annie’s and Honey B’s waistbands, Willy B’s slinky moves, Missy’s choice of grooming tools, Mave’s toe socks and Jamie’s flamboyant scarves). Of course, none of these creations are purely spontaneous and random. Even the most innovative aspects of their behavior are influenced by both their current surroundings and past experiences.

Honey B’s behavior seems to be especially shaped by her previous and ongoing interactions with humans. As one of the more inquisitive and interactive chimpanzees at the sanctuary, she likes to be involved in whatever her caregivers are doing and seems to enjoy making us happy. It’s in her nature to be helpful. We try not to bother the chimps with unnecessary requests, but we do have to ask them for certain favors that help us caregivers to do our jobs. On a daily basis, for example, we ask the chimpanzees to shift from one enclosure to another so that we can safely go inside and clean up. They usually do this without any coaxing because there is something more interesting to do elsewhere. Sometimes, however, there are objects or materials blocking the hydraulic doors that prevent us from remotely operating them and therefore delay shifting. In those moments, we can usually ask a passing chimpanzee to kindly remove the obstruction. Honey B, however, exceeds the expectations.

A few weeks ago, the three chimps who live in the new wing were shifting out of the upstairs Mezzanine and into the new front rooms and chute on the ground floor. There was a tangled slinky that was preventing Kelsi from remotely shutting the door behind them. We asked Honey B to remove the toy, which by then resembled a bird’s nest, and she eagerly scrambled to disentangle the entire thing before tossing it through the open doorway. Then, for safe measure, Honey B collected nearby slinkies (which weren’t tangled and weren’t blocking the door) and chucked them downstairs as well.

In the following weeks, she has surprised us all by continuing to throw available enrichment items through doorways before they we close them. Every morning she flips the previous night’s blankets and night bags through the lower-level doors before heading up to the Mezzanine for breakfast, and she has even started to hurl larger toys down the incline of the chute and out into her group’s alcove of Young’s Hill (now known as “The Courtyard”). With the input of a few enthusiastic and amused volunteers, I have unofficially named this behavior The Chonk. I’m not sure how well this name fits the behavior since the term chonk is usually applied to overweight cats on the internet, but the sound of the word makes me chuckle. (Thanks, Elizabeth C!)

I would love to know exactly what Honey B is thinking as she yeets enrichment out onto the Hill, but I can only speculate. I sincerely hope that, whatever her motivation may be, that she’s having as much fun as I am.

Keep on chonkin’, Honey B.