Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

Hope. Love. Home. Sanctuary

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Love for Willy B

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I have to confess, I chose Willy B as my subject for this “Love for…” series on a day that he was being particularly difficult to love. He had woken the other chimps up four times the previous night with his incessant banging and antagonizing, and thanks to the magic of closed circuit camera technology, I’d also had the pleasure of lying awake and listening to his late night performances. The lack of sleep initially made it hard for me to muster up much sympathy for the guy. But isn’t that the perfect time to remind myself—and you—what makes him so deserving of our love?

Willy B was born on November 30th, 1990, at the Laboratory for Experimental Medicine and Surgery in Primates (LEMSIP) in New York. According to his records, his father was Stu. His mother is known to us only by the number that would have been tattooed across her chest: 526. The “B” in Willy B’s name served as a reminder that although he was born at LEMSIP, one or both of his parents belonged to the Buckshire Corporation, making Willy B their property, too. Like his companions, Willy spent much of his childhood in a cage suspended off the floor.

When LEMSIP ended its chimpanzee program in 1996, Willy B was transferred with over 30 other chimpanzees to the Wildlife Waystation in California. He would remain there until 2019, when it too began to close down.

We selected Willy B and his companions, Honey B and Mave, to be the first of the Waystation chimpanzees to move to CSNW due to their small social group and relative isolation at the facility. Willy was our main road trip companion for the 1,000-mile journey, as his transport cage occupied the space just behind the driver’s seat. And I am still feeling the adrenaline from the time he went from sound asleep to trying to topple the van over with his intense cage-shaking on a busy section of I-5 in Central California, all in the blink of an eye.

Little did I know it then, but that incident would be a metaphor for life with Willy. I’ve written about his challenges before so I won’t belabor the point here, other than to say that he has thus far had a hard time remaining in good standing in social groups with anyone other than his two original companions, who have a tolerance for his shenanigans worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize. But knowing how he was raised, we shouldn’t wonder why he struggles with being social. The question is, why don’t they all?

And when you consider how far he has come, Willy’s story is less a tragedy and more a story of hope. Watching him overcome his fear of the outdoors was one of the most inspiring things I’ve been privileged to witness.

And despite the two-year integration of Willy’s group and Cy’s group ultimately ending in failure due to Willy’s chronic self-sabotaging behavior, he managed to make many new friends who often brought out the best in him. He will certainly have more opportunities for additional companionship in the future.

Even when he’s at his most chaotic, you can’t help but love Willy for his endearing quirks. Like the way he plays chase with his caregivers—no eye contact allowed! Or his childlike amusement with Slinkies and bouncy balls. Or his incessant requests to watch videos on our phones, specifically videos of the cute girls (like Jamie) next door. Or the way he is compelled to maximize the crunching sounds when he eats lettuce and celery by chomping down with his molars with his mouth wide open.

It’s true, Willy B can be a but much sometimes. There are times when he is even too much for himself, and he has to find a quiet, secluded place to reset.

I talk a lot about how much I admire Cy and Rayne, and they deserve every ounce of our admiration. But do all of our heroes have to be so noble? What about the guy that was born with the deck stacked against him and gets just a little bit better each day? What about the guy who has to struggle to be good? Isn’t that struggle itself something to be admired? True or not, this is what I will be telling myself when Willy B wakes us up again tonight.

Because I love Willy B, despite who he is and—even more so—because of who he is. We’re so grateful for his Pals who feel the same way, and we hope you will consider sponsoring him, too.

Willy B’s Choice

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First of all, today is Dora’s 36th birthday! Many thanks to our staff as well as interns Sarah and Taylor and Dr. Erin for pulling off a party for the birthday girl even when we were somewhat short on staff. And many thanks as well to Paulette Wrisley for sponsoring the day on Dora’s honor! We’re excited to share photos and video with you all tomorrow when we have time to prepare them.

In the meantime, I wanted to share a video about our boy, Willy B, and the journey he’s been on to become comfortable with the outdoors. I can’t tell you how often I want to be frustrated with this confused, self-sabotaging, sometimes-sweet-and-often-a-jerk, man-child of a chimpanzee. But I know what he’s been through. And I wanted you to get a glimpse as well. It’s really a miracle that he made it out at all. Every time I see him sitting in the grass or walking to the top of the Bray, I feel so proud of what our team has done and what you all have made possible.

My motive for sharing this now, if I’m being honest, is that I thought it would be a good lesson/reminder as to what might lie ahead for George. I know that many of you are excited for what’s next once George completes his quarantine, but I want to prepare everyone to be patient. We don’t know how George will react to other chimps after living alone for so long and we don’t know how he’ll react to a 2-acre habitat after being restricted to small cage for most of his life. Some chimps rush to embrace every new opportunity in sanctuary. Others take their time. It’s all up to them.

But at least now George, like Willy B, will have a choice.

Becoming Mave

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An old friend shared a story with us recently that moved me so much I felt compelled to share it with you.

As some of you know, Diana and I worked at the Fauna Foundation in Quebec in the late ’90s and early 2000s. During that time we got to know a few of the people that had known the Fauna chimps when they were at the lab, and the stories they shared were so helpful in our efforts to truly understand the chimps in our care. As it happens, Willy B, Honey B, and Mave were originally from the same lab – the Laboratory for Experimental Medicine and Surgery In Primates (LEMSIP) – and when we announced that we would be taking taking them in, our friend reached out with stories of their early years. She knew them well. In fact, she had helped raise them.

Now, if you’ve been keeping up with the blog you know that Mave is running the show right now. She is smart, brave, compassionate, and fair, and she has taken it upon herself to try to bridge these two families during a critical time. How she came to possess such wisdom and maturity will forever be a mystery, however, considering her early years:

LEMSIP tried to keep babies with their moms for one year before stealing them to live in the nursery (aka “wean”).  It was such a devastating time for baby and mom.  They tried to “wean” babies in pairs so that they would have each other and become cage mates.  They would become inseparable – literally.  Mave and Goliath were such a pair and had been together all their lives.  She was a bit anxious and he was her rock.  He died at the Waystation sometime last year.  They think it was a heart attack […] that is why I am pleasantly surprised that Mave is doing well.
Mave and Goliath in the nursery at LEMSIP
The picture of me in the cage with them shows one side of two 32″ monkey cages that had to be tunneled together for pairs of chimps in the nursery due to cage size violations.  LEMSIP had gotten a variance in the size requirement for years due to the founder utilizing the “dry system” – a stupid way to house primates – no hoses, no drains – just giant rolls of heavy plastic (like a giant roll of saran wrap) rolled out in layers under all the cages.  We had to hand wipe every wall and door and mop every floor.  He felt that avoiding aerosolization of fecal matter and reducing lingering dampness reduced illness like diarrhea.
Mave and Goliath with their caregiver at LEMSIP
I would go into the cage and play with and love on them after Mave stopped coming out. We would have to walk or carry the chimps to and from playrooms (no tunnels or shifting).  One day, I went to carry them to play and Mave would not let go of the cage.  We tried everything (blanket, treat, etc.) and that had never happened.  What typically happened was, sooner or later, older chimps would figure out that they could (and should) refuse to go back into a tiny cage after being out to play.  When that happened it was always their last time out.  It was always a sad, sad day.  But for a chimp to refuse to come out – even with their partner – was strange.  We even tried walking away with Goliath so that she could jump down and follow but she wouldn’t.  Eventually, we took him to the playroom to play with some friends in hopes of her gaining the courage to come out to us.  But instead she was very upset and screamed and cried.  He was so bonded to her that he couldn’t enjoy playing (even though they only got out once per week by that age). He got upset and needed to go comfort her so we brought him back.  After that, I would just have someone lock me in the cage to spend time with them […]
I share this story not to wallow in the cruelty of it all, but rather to marvel at what Mave has become, against all odds.

Seattle Times article and Adventures on the Hill

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Yesterday, the Seattle Times published a great article about CSNW online. It will also appear in the print version of the Seattle Times Pacific NW magazine this Sunday. Please share it widely if you can – we are so grateful to writer Sandi Doughton and photographer Alan Berner for giving the sanctuary and the movement to rescue and retire primates such great coverage.

This morning, the chimps took to the foggy, rain-soaked hill to play and explore.

As usual, Missy led the group outside but quickly sped away and forged her own path across the fire hose vines.

Annie struggled to keep up since she is reluctant to walk quadrupedally (on all fours) outside – especially in wet grass.

Burrito had spent the early part of the morning engaged in wild and varied dominance displays, which did not exactly endear him to the rest of the group. As a result, the girls gave him a chance to cool off for a bit by himself. Here he is wadging what was left of his breakfast chow bag and probably wondering what everyone is so upset about.

Jody managed to keep the Thanksgiving buffet alive for another day after discovering some leftover green beans on the hill.

Foxie kept her Strawberry Shortcake doll close by throughout the morning adventure.

Freedom

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Freedom is a tough concept. You recognize it more by it’s absence than it’s presence, and it’s easier to describe when comparing one situation with another. Yet most people agree that freedom is one of the most important aspects of life for individuals and for groups.

It’s clear that the chimpanzees lacked even the basic freedoms when they were in the laboratory. And it’s clear that the sanctuary has provided them with immense freedoms, like the freedom to chose how and when you want your day to end, like Katelyn wrote about Jamie on the blog yesterday.

One of the things that really struck me about Monday, when Jamie decided to extend the day, was the choice that Annie made to stay in the greenhouse. While all of the other chimpanzees (minus Jamie, of course) were inside the building in their nests, Annie decided to camp out. She didn’t seem the least bit concerned about what Jamie was doing, she was just making her own decision.

This morning, as volunteers Denice and Sandra were finishing the daily cleaning of the front rooms, I grabbed the camera and headed to the greenhouse. Though it was windy, I was expecting to find several chimpanzees out there. Instead, I found just Annie. And this is how I found her:

Annie sleeping in her nest

 

Just like the other night, she was perfectly relaxed, nesting comfortably, with no one else around.

Annie sleeping arm under head

 

I think each day the chimpanzees are discovering more and more of the freedoms afforded by a life in sanctuary. It’s such a beautiful experience to be able to both witness and share this process.

Annie holding her foot

 

It’s especially poignant with Annie, because she was so anxious when she first arrived at the sanctuary. Her confidence just seems to keep growing and growing.

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Tomorrow we will have a party for the chimps in celebration of the United States’ Independence Day, but, just like everyday, we will also be celebrating the independence of seven chimpanzees and welcoming, as each day passes, their discoveries of what freedom in a sanctuary means to them.

Power

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It’s impossible to overstate just how much power Jamie has over the staff and volunteers at CSNW. Sometimes, as I walk up the driveway to the chimp house in the morning, I find myself saying a silent prayer to the chimp gods that she is in a good mood. And if she isn’t, I pray that her attention will be directed at someone other than me.

But the chimp gods don’t seem to hear me, because this is the face that often greets us.

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Or worse, this:

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This is when you know it’s going to be a long day.

My love and admiration for Jamie is limitless. She is brilliant and creative and brave. But she also possesses a thirst for power and control unlike anyone I have ever known.

In the normal course of life at the sanctuary, Jamie and I sometimes find ourselves disagreeing about what should be done. I think Foxie should be given a banana, Jamie does not. I think I should open the chimps’ door to the greenhouse, Jamie does not. I think I should be able to stand at the sink and quietly scrub the chimps’ toys, Jamie does not.

When Jamie disagrees, she makes sure she is understood. In fights with the other chimps, she usually wins simply by screaming louder and longer than anyone else, but she’s not afraid to get physical if need be. She makes her opinion known to her caregivers with a mouthful of water or a handful of feces. And let me tell you, I don’t care how strongly you believe in doing something…flying feces always has a way of making you reconsider.

This particular character trait is not something I would look for in a human friend (especially the feces throwing). But with Jamie, it makes me admire her even more. How on earth did someone so in need of control and power, so determined to be respected by humans and chimps alike, ever survive life in the laboratory?

There needs to be a chimp equivalent to the word “dehumanizing,” because that’s what life was for her. You could see it in her eyes when we first met her in the lab.

web Jamie at Buckshire

And if you couldn’t see it in her eyes, surely you couldn’t miss it tattooed across her chest.

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When the chimps first came to the sanctuary, I was so excited. But I can barely look at those photos of her now. She looks so powerless.

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I always wonder what the Cle Elum Seven chimpanzees would be like if they had lived in the wild. If they had been raised by their mothers. If they had raised their own children. How much of the chimpanzees we know and love would we recognize?

I have a feeling Jamie would still have been a force to be reckoned with. I think it’s in her bones. But she would have been able to play by chimpanzee rules in a chimpanzee society, without ever knowing the indignity and humiliation of life in captivity.

To us, sanctuary is all about finding what each individual chimpanzee needs to be happy. And for Jamie, that’s easy…total and absolute power.

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So if being grumpy makes her happy, that’s cool with us.

web Jamie sit log bridge beneath structure YH IMG_6302

 

 

Negra’s Journey

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In celebration of Negra’s 39th birthday and the 4th anniversary of the chimps’ arrival at the sanctuary, we take a look back on the journey that brought Negra to us.

Thank you for all that you do to help us provide a home for Negra and her family.

(This video is narrated so you will need to turn your volume up)