Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

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Conflict and Reconciliation

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A quick word of warning: If you do not wish to see footage of chimps being aggressive towards one another, please skip this video.

Recently, Grace posted to our social media accounts asking people to submit questions for Q&A posts on our blog. One of the questions jumped out at me: What is the best and worst part of your job? I immediately thought of dozens of things I like best about this line of work – we get to provide the chimps with life-changing and long overdue experiences like going outdoors and climbing trees, we help them form new friendships, we are treated on a daily basis to displays of intelligence and emotion that many people still believe are reserved for humans alone, and we get to do the thing we love with people we enjoy working with in a breathtakingly beautiful environment. Oh, and I get to drive a tractor sometimes. Maybe I should have put that first? Anyway, how could I choose just one “best” thing?

But when it comes to the worst part of the job, there’s no question in my mind what it is: it’s the violence.

Chimpanzees are naturally aggressive. Not all the time, mind you, or even most of the time. Aggression actually makes up a very small part of their daily activity and is just a tiny facet of their overall demeanor. Most of their waking hours are spent resting, quietly grooming, exploring, and playing. And most of their interactions with one another are overwhelmingly friendly and cooperative – and often extremely gentle, tender, and loving. But these hours upon hours of peace and playfulness are punctuated by boisterous displays of dominance and, on occasion, acts of real, raw violence – violence between the very people we have dedicated our careers, and in many ways our whole lives, to caring for. For us caregivers, it amounts to a lot of worrying about a thing over which we have very little control.

Which brings me to this video. I’ve been wanting to share it for a while, for a couple of reasons. First, when a chimpanzee gets injured here at CSNW, people naturally ask who was fighting and why. Our answer is usually some form of “I don’t know” and “I don’t know.” It’s not because we aren’t paying attention, but rather because the nature of chimp fights make them hard to interpret at times. They can happen quickly with little warning, they rarely occur between only two individuals, and the individuals who get into a fight in the first place are not always the ones who come away injured. I’m grateful for the many books and documentaries that have demonstrated chimpanzees’ remarkable capacity for strategic aggression, but reality is often so much messier. Yes, chimps sometimes exhibit coalitionary aggression for the purpose of social status. But in addition to being Machiavellian, chimpanzees are also xenophobic, insecure, jealous, petty, anxious, and just plain cranky, and any and all of these can serve as the impetus to bite someone’s finger off.

Second, it’s important for people to get an accurate picture of how chimps live. We don’t want anyone to think that life for chimpanzees is nothing but eating, playing, and climbing trees. While we often discuss their injuries, we aren’t usually in a position to show the fights in which they occurred. As you can see, however, we can occasionally capture them on our security camera system.

But perhaps most importantly, I want to show you how they make up afterwards. Chimp societies wouldn’t hold together very long if the individuals within them didn’t have the capacity to reconcile, and that is the saving grace for both the chimpanzees themselves and our own ability to care for them. Because no matter how bad things get, they usually find a way to move forward together.

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So…the video. For what it’s worth, I’ve made it unlisted on YouTube so hopefully anyone watching will find it here and will also be reading this for context.

In the video, which is from December, you witness the beginning of the conflict as Willy B and Terry run out into the Greenhouse. Terry is upset, which you can see as he screams and splays himself out on the catwalk before running back inside for reassurance. The video picks up again in the Playroom, where Terry and Willy B face off momentarily by the door downstairs. The group congregates upstairs and Rayne then approaches Mave who is at the top of the tree structure. As Willy B moves in, possibly to protect Mave (though that is certainly open to interpretation), he comes face to face with Gordo. And that’s when all heck breaks loose. It took me several minutes of playing over and over in slow mo to piece together what was happening. For a time, I even falsely accused Rayne of a crime she didn’t commit. Sorry, Raynie!

We often differentiate between minor chimp fights and more serious ones based on whether or not they “ball up.” Balling up occurs when they grapple and bite, as opposed to chasing and hitting, at which point the caregivers can no longer tell who is who in real time. When chimps ball up, we know that we are going to have to look for injuries afterwards – checking ears and counting fingers and toes as they tend to their wounds. In this case, the chimps ball up for only a brief moment. They leap down to the floor through the fire hose vines and Willy B escapes up the stairs only to find his finger caught in Lucky’s mouth. He somehow manages to withdraw his finger intact and escapes through Playroom 3 to the Mezzanine where the screaming and reassurance-seeking continues. Fortunately, everyone made it out with only minor injuries.

At breakfast the next morning, Gordo – who was uninjured in the fight and whose “side,” you could say, came out on top – approached Willy B to reconcile. Breathy panting serves to express friendly intentions, and Gordo offers both his backside and his fingers and toes to Willy B. Isn’t it ironic that the way to make up after a fight in which you tried bite each other’s toes off is to place your toes in each other’s mouths again? While Mave and Rayne similarly reconcile, Gordo asks Willy B to follow him upstairs to groom. And once again, all is well.

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So that’s a chimp fight and the aftermath. Some are more serious, many less so. Some last for only a minute or two while others have gone on for as long as 20 minutes. The boys fight the boys, the girls fight the girls, and the boys and girls fight each other. It happens in new groups and in groups like the seven that have been together for 17 years. They are loud and fast and frequently complicated. Serious fights are relatively rare but they’re part of caring for chimps and while you never really get used to it, you do come to accept it. Running a tortoise sanctuary would certainly be better for the ol’ blood pressure. But if you love caring for chimps, as I do, you can’t pick and choose which parts you get to experience.

I’m sure this post raises more questions than it answers, so ask away and I’ll do my best to respond below! And my thanks to all of you for allowing us to explore a more serious and fraught topic from time to time. Hopefully it helps present a truer version of sanctuary life for both the chimps and the humans that care for them.

Breakfast, Interrupted

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Sometimes my brain is in no mood to write a blog post so I go through my phone to see if there are any photos I haven’t posted. Thus, I present to you, apropos of nothing, these photos from last summer of Dora and Cy stopping to watch the train go by as they eat oranges.

Keeping up with Burrito

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I followed the chimps up the hill this morning as they made their way to the wooded area. Burrito followed Jody closely as they made their way through the gully and up along the fence line.

Foxie was not far behind.

Missy, of course, had made it to the top before anyone even noticed she was gone.

When we arrived at the top, Burrito appeared determined. He may not be ready to climb a tree just yet, but he was going to do something adventurous. He climbed past Missy and went to the roof of Carlene’s Tower.

From there, he took in the view of the Yakima River and the distant town of Cle Elum.

But then he was off to do other things, like climbing the log pile with Jamie.

The group returned to the greenhouse. Jody brought with her a piece of pine bark with scars form the Taylor Bridge Fire and what look like holes from a woodpecker.

Throughout the morning, the group (minus Negra, of course, who remained in her cozy nest) would continue to make trips up to the pines. Annie is still wearing her waist band, as you can see.

After lunch, Jamie brought her sweet potatoes for a picnic and took some time to inspect the insect and chainsaw markings on the logs.

On their fourth trip up, it was clear that Burrito was not slowing down. Missy chased him across the log bridges and nearly captured his toes.

Next time, Missy.

They stopped to rest together.

In the original side of the building, there’s a small interior room called Front Room 4 that has a view into the kitchen and foyer, where we work throughout the afternoon. Burrito has learned that if he tries hard enough to get our attention, the humans can’t concentrate and must abandon their attempts to write the blog.

And so long as you’re not doing anything, you might as well take a walk with Burrito, right? Great! He’ll meet you outside then.

He waits for you to arrive, and then he’s off to the top of the hill once more.

Impressions

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It’s officially mud season, and boy do we have a lot of it this year. Construction on Young’s Hill and The Bray finished too late last year to replant grass in the disturbed areas, so what was dust last fall when the chimps went back outside is now a squishy, slippery mess. One benefit of the mud, however, is finding the chimps’ hand and footprints all over the hill.

Unlike a lot of the animal tracks we find around the sanctuary, the chimps’ fore and hind limb prints are very distinctive from one another, due to the fact that chimps use the middle phalanges (not the knuckle itself but the area between the first and second knuckles) of their hands for walking while, like us, they use the soles of their feet.

Here are some hand prints:

Footprints show the entire sole of the foot with the big toe extending almost 90 degrees from the other toes.

There was a time when most of the Cle Elum Seven, who previously knew nothing but the concrete and bars of their laboratory cages, wouldn’t dream of stepping in mud. Times certainly have changed. It’s not as if they enjoy being dirty, however. When they return from an adventure outside, they promptly clean themselves up by wiping their hands and feet on walls, caging, cardboard boxes, or anything else within reach. And then leave it for their cleaning staff to take care of 🙂

Mave and Dora

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Sometimes dinner is so exciting that you just need a hug.

On the other side of the building, Jamie and her gang spent some time out on the hill today. We have been under clouds and fog for so long now that we’re wondering if Cle Elum will ever be known again its sunny winters. This morning, Anna came back from outside and exclaimed, “The fog is getting brighter!” We all celebrated the change from gray to light gray. The chimps celebrated, too, by heading out to the hill.

Jamie took along her favorite book:

Burrito followed:

Foxie of course took her doll along to fetch some snow:

Perhaps tomorrow will be an even brighter shade of gray. If not, I might need one of those hugs. Or just a cozy nest:

Terry update: He’s feeling much better and is as playful as ever!

Stuff

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As many of you know (especially if you watched the recent Christmas videos), the CSNW chimps have a lot of stuff. Most of the chimps are not attached to these things – they use them and enjoy them and then go on about their business. But some chimps are quite materialistic and borderline obsessive about it, too.

This morning, Sofia and I were cleaning the playroom when I heard Jamie emit a “low moan” from the front rooms. This is a vocalization that often indicates satisfaction. I imagined that she had saved her primate chow from breakfast, as she often does, and was digging into it in private while the others chimps groomed in the greenhouse. But when I peeked around the corner I found that she didn’t have any chow and was simply making a nest. With her, however, was her favorite book, I’m Lucy.

An attachment to things wouldn’t work very well for a species that ranges across a vast territory and rarely sleeps in the same place twice. While Jamie was not fortunate enough to know the life of her wild counterparts, there’s some comfort in knowing that she gets to experience the same pleasure we do when settling down with a good book on a snowy winter morning.

 

On a separate note, I just wanted to express our thanks to the rest of the staff (and their spouses) who dealt with some challenging conditions while Diana and I were gone on a longer than expected trip. Kelsi mentioned that the well froze up, but she may not have mentioned that the cattle water also froze up just as we left, the radiant heat in the original chimp building stopped working the next morning (we have backup heaters on standby), and the tractor refused to run, requiring them to find someone to come plow the sanctuary’s long and steep driveway on short notice and make multiple trips to the well house with a heat gun using snowshoes. All of this on top of having to take turns staying overnight at the sanctuary through the holidays. Some might say that Diana and I were the real heroes last week, as we valiantly struggled to enjoy all the cookies, cocktails, and Christmas presents with my family while burdened with the knowledge that the rest of the staff were facing one catastrophe after another. But I’d say our coworkers did a pretty good job, too.

Eagle Eyes

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When I stop by the chimp house, I am occasionally greeted by chimps excitedly waiting to play, groom, or go on walks, but the majority of the time, the overall vibe is one of indifference. I can pop into the foyer, grab a package or some receipts, and head back to the office without garnering much attention. The other day, however, as I stood in the foyer, I could hear Jamie stomping on the floor in the playroom. She often does this when she can see something she wants in the kitchen from her limited vantage point in the playroom loft.

I was pretty sure she wasn’t trying to get my attention. I never stepped foot in the kitchen, had no food on me, and was wearing the same old black rain boots that I always wear around the farm this time of year. Still, she kept stomping. As I walked into the chimp area to see if I could figure out what she wanted, she let out a low moan and raced down to the floor where I stood. She extended her fingers through the cage towards my boots. Then I remembered…I was actually wearing a different pair of black rain boots – ones that are, to my mind, very similar and virtually indistinguishable from a distance to most people. But Jamie is not most people.

There’s a lot going on here. First, there’s the fact that she can discern the subtle differences between plain black boots from a distance of 70 feet. Second, it’s clear that she has a pretty good memory of the boots she has seen me wear for these to be viewed as so novel and interesting. And finally, there’s the unanswerable question: Why does she care about boots so much?

As someone who owns two pairs of nearly identical boots, I’m not sure I’m in any position to question or criticize anyone else’s interest in footwear.

jamie chimpanzee in nest with boot