Jody had some enthusiastic greetings for her friends this morning…
dominance
The other side
It would be easy to compare groups of chimpanzees to the mafia. Or to middle school cliques, for that matter.
Sometimes I worry that we don’t talk enough about this side of chimpanzees.
The side that may seem to contradict the gentle, curious, charming, loving moments, like these photos I took today of Foxie, Burrito, and Missy grooming:
Or this photo of Foxie with a Dora doll, out exploring the hill:
It is absolutely the truth that chimpanzees are caring, loving, warm, goofy, playful, and amazing. And it is absolutely the truth that chimpanzees are brutal, violent, scheming, and dangerous. Often, it is the very bonds that they exhibit with one another that is the flip side of their capacity for violence.
It’s just like humans, when you think about it.
We, like them, constantly separate ourselves into groups – whether the group is a biological family, a mob family, a nation, or a preteen clique. This separation, by definition, means there are those in the group, and then there are those out of the group.
Humans, like chimpanzees and other primates, develop a loyalty to our chosen or assigned group – a need to protect the group from outsiders or any potential harm and a drive to defend our collective territory and resources.
In many ways, I admire this when I observe it in the chimpanzees at the sanctuary. Take Missy, for example. You might not know this, but this 100 pound petite goofball of a chimpanzee can be extremely intimidating:
Missy will defend her group, and Jamie, the group leader, like no one I’ve seen before. When the chimpanzees first arrived in 2008, the humans were definitely the out-group, and Missy reminded us of this frequently. If we attempted (innocently) to pick up dropped food on our side of the caging, Missy would come flying out of nowhere, land directly in front of our face clinging to the caging, scream, and shake the steel. The other chimpanzees would immediately back her up and join in by threat barking and screaming and sometimes spitting water (Jody would almost always go to a fountain and get a huge mouthful of water).
It wasn’t a good feeling when this happened, but I felt it was good sign. First of all – these seven chimpanzees had every right to hate humans. They didn’t hate us, but they certainly had that right based on their past treatment by our species. Second – it really illustrated how solid they were as a group, and these instances probably helped them feel more united in this strange new home.
Missy rarely jumps at us these days. After a few months or maybe a year or so, she seemed to feel less threatened by us. I pick up food in front of her and Jamie all the time, and she now knows I’m just going to give it to her once I pick it up. Plus I’ve learned on an individual basis what each of the chimpanzees is comfortable with, and what they aren’t.
New caregivers have to be more cautious. Trust is not automatic – it has to be earned between primates. And caregivers have to always be on our toes. I know plenty of humans who have been injured by chimpanzees; it happens in a fraction of a second.
We have many rules in place and a very extensive training period for new caregivers. Our basic philosophy is to never put ourselves in a place or position where we can be hurt.
We have a deep respect for each of the chimpanzees – all sides of them, and it’s not our job to try to fit them into our rules of behavior, but rather to respect theirs.
Hierarchy
Yesterday, during the party, Negra and Jody found themselves eating from the same pinata.
Negra, being dominant to Jody, decides that she’d rather not share. As Negra pulls the pinata away from Jody, Jody gets upset and begins to just slightly bare her teeth out of fear. Negra then displays a facial expression known as a full open grin. As you can see, her upper and lower lips are drawn all the way back, exposing all of her large and powerful teeth. This is a sign of fear or excitement, and is often seen when social conflict breaks out.
Jody responds with a full closed grin. Her lips are drawn back like Negra’s, but her jaw is closed. She is upset that Negra has pulled rank, so she goes to Burrito and Foxie for reassurance.
After being reassured by Burrito and receiving a kiss and a hug from Foxie, Jody returns to Negra, who offers her an extended arm in reconciliation. Jody accepts.
And the Queen gets the pinata.
As it should be.
This is all very similar to the conflict we showed a couple of weeks ago, but in this case all of the behavior was ritualized and no one was harmed in the process. As aggressive as they may be, chimpanzees are also very good at negotiating peaceful settlements to their disagreements. Part of this is due to their dominance hierarchies, which can help predetermine the outcome of smaller skirmishes without the need for fighting.
We mentioned before on this blog how difficult it can be to describe the dominance hierarchy at CSNW. One reason is that these seven chimpanzees had little social experience before coming to the sanctuary. They had to start figuring out how to be chimpanzees when they were already well into adulthood, with no role models to emulate and no culture to absorb – just seven misfits trying to figure things out as they went along.
But another explanation is that the majority of the Cle Elum Seven are female, and in the wild, the hierarchy amongst females is often less linear than it is for males. In some communities, the females seem to be ranked in broad groups rather than by the individual.
I would say that is true for the Cle Elum Seven. It’s clear that Jamie, Negra, Jody, and Burrito are dominant individuals, but among them, it’s not always clear how they are ranked. The hierarchy is complex, fluid, and context-dependent. For example, Burrito’s dominance displays are respected and tolerated by all of the females, but Jamie can steal his lunch with impunity. Jamie gets upset when Jody gets a hold of prized food, but she is not always successful in her attempts to steal it away. Negra always submits to Burrito, but she steals from Jamie and Jody. Honestly, it can get confusing.
Nevertheless, we refer to Jamie as the alpha of the group because she regularly fights for dominance and usually gets her way. Negra, on the other hand, seems to earn respect without trying.
All she wants is her night bags, a quiet nap, and occasionally, someone else’s pinata.
When the going gets tough
There’s always been a lot of tension between Jamie and Jody. Though Jamie is the alpha of the Cle Elum Seven, she’s never been secure in her leadership. She views everyone as a potential threat to her status as leader, and every action they take as a potential sign of disrespect. Jody, however, is strong willed and independent, and she refuses to submit to Jamie’s incessant demands for obedience.
Most of the mealtime conflicts here at CSNW follow the same script: Jody takes food that is rightfully hers. Jamie is upset that Jody took food. Jamie screams for ten minutes straight while following Jody around and demanding the food.
In their first few years at the sanctuary, Jody would break down and acquiesce. But over time she discovered that Jamie was more bark than bite, so she learned to hang onto the food in contention. And just the other day, when Jamie began her screaming routine over a piece of celery, Jody decided that she’d had enough, and she chased Jamie out onto Young’s Hill. Jamie was forced to take refuge on a climbing structure while Jody returned to the greenhouse to enjoy her celery in peace.
This one interaction doesn’t mean that Jody has taken over the alpha position in the group. She just doesn’t seem to have the drive or the backing to follow through with it. But it’s a good example of why the two might not always enjoy each others company.
Unless, that is, there is trouble afoot.
This morning, Jody was spooked by something out on the hill.
The others sensed her alarm and began to gather around.
But Jody wasn’t looking for their help. She knew exactly who she needed on her side in a situation like this.
She walked down the hill to meet Jamie, who was just coming out to check on the commotion. As soon as they met, Jody offered Jamie a kiss and embraced her in a request for reassurance.
Together, they joined up with Foxie and Burrito to patrol the area.
Jody may not always consider Jamie her best friend, but when the going gets tough, who are you going to turn to? The guy who hides behind a tree?
Or the boss?
Nature without nuture
Burrito is a male chimpanzee.
You may not be all that familiar with chimpanzees, but if you’ve ever known a male human being, you’ve pretty much got Burrito figured out. Because if there’s one thing us guys share above all else, it’s that we are compelled by forces beyond our control to do stupid things.
I like to think that each male chimp has a little devil on his shoulder that whispers bad advice into his ear all day long:
Hey – since everyone’s asleep right now, wouldn’t this be the perfect time to throw this barrel across the room and make a lot of noise?
Pssst…you know what really impresses girls? When you hit them on the back of the head.
I bet the caregiver will give you extra food if you spit a little of it back in her face.
Don’t get me wrong…the little devil is not all bad. Chimpanzee society is organized into a dominance hierarchy, and you need the little devil to help you stake out your place. But the trick is to keep him under control. Over time, most male chimps learn that they can ignore him once and a while, or at least limit his influence. When they are young and they act inappropriately, they get reprimanded by their mothers or put in their place by the adults in the group. And at the same time, they learn to model their behavior after the adult males in their community so that they can harness all of that testosterone effectively. But what happens when you are raised without a mother or without any other chimpanzees at all?
When Burrito first came to the sanctuary, he seemed genuinely surprised when the girls got mad at him. He would fly around the room like a Tasmanian devil during his displays and when they began to react, he would push it even farther until they all ganged up on him. Afterwards, he would lay by himself and nurse his wounds, with a pathetic Why me? look on his face, as if he had been minding his own business when the girls just spontaneously attacked him.
There are all sorts of subtle interactions between chimps that keep their society running smoothly. For example, when a subordinate chimp submits to a dominant chimp, the dominant chimp accepts this submission by extending a hand to be kissed, or reaching his arm around them for reciprocal grooming. But Burrito never learned how to be a chimp and these social situations seem to make him nervous, so he has developed an alternative strategy: close your eyes and pretend nothing is happening. Not surprisingly, this doesn’t work very well.
In a way, Burrito is like a kid that never grew up, and adult behavior just doesn’t make sense to him. He knows that he wants to be dominant – that it’s his rightful place to be dominant – but he can’t quite figure out how to make it happen. So he has been stuck in limbo. Strong enough to be feared, but not wise enough to be respected.
Every once and a while, you get a little glimpse of that male chimp swagger, and you start to think that he may just figure this whole alpha thing out after all.
But I wouldn’t hold my breath…
Sharing
Chimpanzees can be very aggressive, but it’s easy to focus too much on this aspect of their behavior. What’s truly remarkable is how often they are able to resolve a conflict, or avoid a potential conflict, through such simple things as reassuring touches and gestures.
While not exactly the same, I often tell people that you can begin to understand chimpanzee dominance by watching The Godfather. In the following video, Negra plays the part of Don Corleone.
