Cle Elum

It’s super hot outside.

July 26, 2020 by Anthony

Well, maybe it’s not that hot.

Today’s temperature is actually only a few degrees above Cle Elum’s average for July, and we’ve had much hotter days recently with even more blistering heat ahead. Still, there was something about today’s weather that slowed everyone down by half and made the shady indoor areas feel twice as good.

The chimps spent most of the day alternating among the preferred indoor nesting spots in what seemed to be an odd game of “musical chimps.” The only exceptions were Jamie and Burrito, who made their caregivers playfully chase them for a few minutes at a time. Even they seemed a bit more subdued than usual, though, and each found some creative spots to hunker down for a prolonged afternoon siesta.

To make the chimps’ midsummer naps even sweeter, the staff set up the shiny new electric fans that were kindly donated via our Wish List. These fans may seem trivial, but they’re helping us to keep the chimps healthy. Although the data are still thankfully deficient, it seems likely that captive and free-living chimpanzees are susceptible to the novel coronavirus that causes COVID-19. As we’ve mentioned on the blog, the sanctuary has been closed off from visitors and most volunteers and the essential personnel have been limiting their social interactions while wearing extra personal protective equipment (masks, gloves, scrubs, etc) around the chimps. We’ve also been trying to keep the building well-ventilated to help disperse any respiratory particles that we exhale, but it’s tough to keep such a large space open and cool (especially on days that lack the trademark winds of eastern Washington). Tomorrow, the ambient temperature is expected to approach 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and the chimps will probably appreciate the gentle breeze created by the new appliances.

Here are some snapshots from today.

Jody (left), Jamie (center) and caregiver Katelyn (right) hang out in front of the fan. Katelyn also used a small handheld fan to help Jamie cool off.

Raspberry Days

July 12, 2020 by Anthony

There are many reasons to love summers in the Pacific Northwest. One of my favorites is something that the chimpanzees also enjoy: an abundance of native berries to snack on.

The raspberry bushes that flank the Chimp House are not new. They were planted many moons ago and have been maintained by dedicated staff and volunteers in the years since. Each summer, the chimps (and humans) seem to get more excited about them. It’s justified, because they’re the most delicious raspberries that I have ever had the privilege of tasting. I’d bet that the chimpanzees feel the same way.

Today, Jamie was especially insistent that humans should be harvesting raspberries and giving her the bounty. If you’re curious how Jamie communicates her demands, I recommend looking at Anna’s post from last summer. Today, Level III volunteer Lisa filled a stainless bowl with the prized berries and then served a handful to the chimps, including the moderately-patient Jamie. They were all thrilled, and we had plenty left over to make raspberry smoothies tomorrow morning. As Diana wrote a few years ago, we make sure that the chimpanzees are provisioned with healthy, unprocessed, species-appropriate foods like fruit, greens and legumes. As we grow larger and need to buy most of our produce in bulk for the chimps, it’s nice to know that there are seasonal treats nearby that the chimps can enjoy for nutrition and novelty.

Lisa, following our health and hygiene protocols, sported gloves, scrubs, and a mask while handling food and enrichment today. All personnel who work around the chimps have to do so with the appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE) in order to prevent the exchange of viral pathogens between us and them. With COVID-19 potentially affecting captive and free-ranging apes, we have elevated our standard hygiene practices and dramatically reduced the amount of personnel present at the sanctuary each day. Normally, the raspberry patch would be a flurry of activity throughout the day as chatty groups of volunteers and interns lazily harvest in the sunshine. Because of our restrictions, however, we must find other ways to complete all the essential tasks with just a handful of personnel.

One permanently-essential task, of course, is play. This afternoon, after Lisa finished handing out fresh raspberries to all the chimps, Foxie coyly suggested that they should vigorously chase each other down the hallway. Foxie kept running from the Playroom into the front rooms and back again, pausing only to pass Lisa a doll, do a twirl, and zoom away again. Foxie, of course, relished a raspberry all the while.

The chimps don’t seem to have any sympathy for us caregivers who have to sprint around the building wearing cloth masks, scrubs and heavy boots, but it’s okay. I don’t think any of us mind breaking from our chores to pick raspberries and hang out with playful chimps.

The Mystery of the Disappearing Jersey Cows

June 28, 2020 by Anthony

It was a chilly morning, smothered by gray clouds and filled with incessant wind.

The chimps did not seem excited when I opened the gateway to Young’s Hill, and they sneered as the wind lashed their faces and caused the prairie grasses to whip around them. Soon, they had all retreated back to the warm security of the Greenhouse. Inside, they used blankets and other enrichment items to make elaborate nests.

All seemed to be subdued by the weather. The exception, of course, was Burrito. As Diana demonstrated in yesterday’s blog and video, Bubba’s appetite for play has been insatiable. This morning, he stomped around the Playroom and Greenhouse while clutching a decapitated doll.

The clouds eventually dissipated and the landscape began to feel warmer around midday. As we normally do on Sunday afternoons, I stayed in the building to write the blog while Chad hopped on the Gator and took care of the cattle. When he came back to the Chimp House about thirty minutes later, he appeared frazzled. Although I was hesitant to ask, I inquired “How are the cows today?”

Chad caught his breath and recounted his tale. Apparently, after mucking the barn and refilling the water troughs, he had trouble locating the cattle to give them their daily fly treatment. He drove all over the property with the Gator, growing more frantic with each empty pasture, until he was on the verge of sending a radio transmission for backup. He began to fear that the cattle had escaped (which wouldn’t be the first time one of us had that thought).

Just as he was about to call Katelyn and I to join him in the search for four missing Jerseys, he saw movement down in the wetlands. Sure enough, hidden in the thick vegetation that grows along a seasonal creek bed between the pastures, Chad found Betsy, Honey, Meredith and Nutmeg. The cattle had not escaped, but they were remarkably camouflaged.

I found this story amusing, but was also obviously relieved to know that the cattle were safe. A few minutes later, I grabbed the sanctuary’s camera and trudged up the hill to take some photographs of the intrepid bovines. Honey had climbed out of the ravine and appeared to be on high alert as she watched me approach. (Honey is the ultimate skeptic.) Betsy and Meredith were grazing together in the shady areas beneath the Ponderosa pines, and Nutmeg was still browsing in the muddy creek.

Going into the vegetation to forage is nothing new (e.g., J.B.’s photo of Nutmeg from Friday), but we’re still constantly amazed by how wild the cattle have become despite their commercialized past.

One of the ponds (located below the creek)

4,392 Days of Summer

June 21, 2020 by Anthony

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.

Twelve Years Ago Today

June 10, 2020 by Diana

I am not very nostalgic, and I’m quite bad at remembering and acknowledging anniversaries and birthdays within my personal life (sorry friends and family).

I’m also not the most patient person. I tend to just plow ahead into the future, driven by a feeling of urgency that time is passing and there’s a lot to get done.

Today, however, I was struck with some deep nostalgia thanks to Facebook reminding me of a post I made on my personal page this day twelve years ago.

It simply said, “is anxiously awaiting seven chimpanzees”
(this was back when many people bizarrely worded their Facebook status updates in the third person – it was a thing, it wasn’t just me).

Wow, did that memory ever bring back some feelings.

Here I’ve been plowing ahead in my usual fashion, anxiously preparing for our upcoming first-ever virtual event on Saturday, without taking the time to truly contemplate what the event is celebrating, all that has occurred between that date twelve years ago and now, and all of the people who have been a part of the sanctuary during those years.

This nostalgia drove me to the blog. I posted twice on the blog on this day twelve years ago.

The first post was a brief thanks to those who had attended our housewarming party days prior, an update that founder Keith and J.B. had visited the chimpanzees at Buckshire (J.B. had made a point of telling me that Negra was great and was going to love her new sanctuary home), and a reference to an article that has long since disappeared from the internet.

The second post was the first report from the road! Keith and J.B. were following the truck that was transporting the seven chimpanzees from Pennsylvania and the post included a photo of the truck and trailer that held those seven precious lives and one of Jody in the transport cage on the truck.

In just a few days we will be celebrating twelve years of sanctuary for this ragtag group of seven chimpanzees who have embedded themselves into the hearts of people who have gotten to know them both in person and at a distance through this blog.

We will be celebrating Queen Negra’s 47th birthday. We will be celebrating the addition of the three Californians who joined us less than a year ago.

And we will be celebrating all of forages, naps, play sessions, and adventures that the next year, and even the next twelve years, await these chimpanzees and future chimpanzees who will call Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest home.

I hope you will join this celebration, The Queen’s Brunch, on Saturday at 11:00am PT. You can set a reminder via Facebook right now. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to watch even if you don’t have a Facebook account.

Originally, Saturday’s celebration would have involved a party for the chimpanzees and a separate in-person gala event in Seattle for about 200 human attendees.

With the pandemic, we had to pivot to an online virtual celebration.

Our budgeted fundraising goal for the original in-person gala was $200,000. Not knowing when we pivoted (and still not knowing!) what to expect from a virtual event and what will come of our postponed gala very tentatively scheduled for September 18th, we set the fundraising goal for The Queen’s Brunch at a much more modest $50,000.

Thanks to everyone who has donated and bid on online auction items so far, we are inching towards half of that goal as I type this.

I’m still plowing forward because there’s a lot to be done and a lot at stake.

But I will certainly take a break to celebrate Honey B’s birthday tomorrow! In addition to all of the lovely details that Katelyn wrote about on Monday, did you know that Honey B has a particular nesting style? It’s related to her sarong-wearing that Katelyn mentioned. After creating her nest base, she takes a blanket and wraps her lower half in it, tucking herself in perfectly.

Then she’s ready for sleep

Thanks to Earthrated for the new cozy green blankets.

I will also take some time to think about just how much has transpired since the day that truck pulled up in the driveway with seven chimpanzees who had no idea what was ahead for them.

I will especially think about the last twelve years of sanctuary for the chimpanzee who will always be my queen.

This is one of the very first photos I took of Negra at the sanctuary:

And this is the photo that Anna took of her a few years ago that we’ve been using as part of the logo for The Queen’s Brunch (available in pillow form to buy now).

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who has been a part of her life and a supporter of the sanctuary at any point during the past twelve years and even before, when it was all just a dream.

Courage, little by little

May 16, 2020 by Diana

Willy B has gotten a lot more confident in the courtyard. He usually just marches right out there like he’s been doing it for years. He does, however, still stick to the boardwalk and usually keeps to the parts of the platform by the posts.

So today we decided to scatter pieces of food (instead of one whole piece of fruit) all over both tiers of the platform.

The photos that J.B. took today are in sequence and tell the story of Willy B’s exploration for the day. You can see he gathered the food and then ate it in his comfortable spots near the post, but still, he went to the middle of the platforms. We’ll continue to push his comfort zone in different ways so that he gets used to being on the grass too. Little by little.

The last photo in the sequence shows what a great view there is at the top of that structure. I wonder how he feels when he’s up there.

Another Few Steps, Another Adventure

May 3, 2020 by Anthony

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.