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.
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 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:
Just like the other night, she was perfectly relaxed, nesting comfortably, with no one else around.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Or worse, this:
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.
And if you couldn’t see it in her eyes, surely you couldn’t miss it tattooed across her chest.
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.
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.
So if being grumpy makes her happy, that’s cool with us.
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)
Watching Missy run uphill amazes me. I’m not sure how it looks on video, but the volunteers that helped build the enclosure can tell you that just walking up that hill will wear you out. It’s just another sign of the chimps’ inherent strength, and their desire to experience the simple joys in life.
Please be sure to tune in to Nightline tonight for a very important story about how chimpanzees are treated in laboratories. I just previewed some of the footage and it’s heartbreaking. Knowing Jamie, Burrito, Foxie, Negra, Annie, Missy and Jody were in similar facilities… There are no words!
