Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

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Imaginary Play

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Chimpanzees have rich imaginary lives. Chimps who use American Sign Language have been observed signing to inanimate objects and engaging them as if they were live social partners. For example, a chimpanzee named Dar was once seen signing “tickle” to a stuffed bear that he was playing with. I personally recall (and will never, ever forget) watching a chimpanzee named Moja don a curly blonde wig and look at herself in the mirror while signing “pretty” to her reflection.

Foxie was never taught sign language, but language isn’t a requirement for imaginary play.

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Nor is imaginary play limited to chimpanzees raised in human environments. In the wild, young chimpanzees have been seen carrying sticks as rudimentary dolls and caring for them as if they were their own offspring. Are they simply expressing a desire to be more grown up? Could it be an instinctual form of practice to prepare them for motherhood? Whatever the motivation, it is probably not much different than our own.

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What’s so interesting about Foxie is that the objects of her imaginary play are often not chimpanzee-like at all. Foxie is occasionally given chimpanzee dolls but she rejects them in favor of Troll dolls or Dora the Explorer dolls. And when she plays with Dora, she treats her more as a human than as a chimp. Note how she stands Dora bipedally (on two legs) instead of quadrupedally like a chimpanzee, even though Dora would stand upright just as well on all fours.

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We can never truly know what a chimpanzee is thinking, but we certainly know that they are thinking. And imaginary play gives us a tantalizing peek into what those thoughts might be.

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Fall mornings

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The chimps love these cool fall mornings. As soon as we’re done serving breakfast in the greenhouse, they pack up whatever they have left – in this case chow bags and pomegranate rinds – and head out to the hill take in the view.

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Autonomy and Confidence

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Last month I wrote about “missing chimpanzee” Foxie, who has been doing a lot of solo exploring on the hill this summer. In May, Anna shared that Negra had been venturing out further on Young’s Hill than she had ever been before.

Well, we can add Burrito to this growing list of chimpanzees who have suddenly become more confident in the outdoor habitat.

As I was finishing up a walk with Jamie this afternoon, I came around to the front of the building and noticed the figure of a chimpanzee way up on the towers at the top of the hill. To my surprise, it was Burrito who was up there, walking across the shaky bridge, all by himself. I should mention that there was no food forage involved, so his motivation wasn’t tied to finding a snack.

I rushed up to the observation deck and got a few photos as he climbed down from the lookout and slowly walked back toward the greenhouse:

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As I took these photos, I was grinning like a fool, and I called down to Burrito to tell him how great I think he is.

Like humans, chimpanzees experience varying degrees of anxiety and fear. In some ways, Burrito shows more anxiety than some of the other chimpanzees. It took him a long time to get comfortable in the greenhouse when it was first completed in 2010, even when the ladies were spending the majority of their time out there (read this blog post from Elizabeth from March 2010 and watch the video of Burrito finally making a breakthrough and spending some time in the greenhouse).

And now, this summer, five years after the chimpanzees were given the 2-acre outdoor habitat that we call Young’s Hill, they are still continuing to gradually embrace and explore their autonomy.

I wonder what they will be doing five years from now.

 

Your Inner Chimp

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You’ve got a chimpanzee lurking inside of you. This might come as a surprise, I know. But you might as well embrace it because whether you like it or not, your inner chimp will always find a way to reveal himself.

Under certain conditions, your sympathetic nervous system launches a cascade of seemingly useless hormonal and muscular reactions that betray your evolutionary history. Technically, it’s called piloerection, and if you read this blog regularly you likely know what this means. Others may know it as goosebumps.

Humans tend to get goosebumps under two conditions: when we are emotionally excited, most often due to fear or surprise, and when we are cold. Why does this happen? Our chimpanzee cousins have the answer.

Many animals have an automatic response to fear that involves making themselves look bigger than they really are – think about a dog raising her hackles, a cat arching her back, or a cobra unveiling its hood. Chimpanzees respond to danger similarly by unconsciously contracting tiny muscles around their hair follicles, thereby making their hand stand on end. Piloerection can turn a small, goofy chimpanzee like Burrito into a fearsome and formidable presence.

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Piloerection, therefore, is the body’s way of protecting itself through intimidation. So what does it have to do with cold weather? In addition to making chimps appear larger, piloerection can also help to insulate them by trapping air between the hair and skin. It’s like changing out your sweater for a nice puffy parka.

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In humans, piloerection is a vestigial trait. Since we split from our shared ancestor millions of years ago, we’ve lost much of our body hair but retained the biological response of raising what little hair we have left when our adrenaline gets pumping. But for chimpanzees, it remains a useful way to protect themselves from both cold temperatures and the dangers of physical conflict. So the next time you get goosebumps – whether it’s because you heard something go bump in the night or because you left your jacket at home – just think of it as your inner chimp trying to get out.

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Missy’s 2nd Chance & Those Left Behind

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This year for Great Apes Giving Day, I decided to highlight Missy’s story. If you are new to Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest or haven’t been following every single blog post, you may have missed the story of how Missy almost didn’t make it to her sanctuary home. Take a minute to read this story on our Great Apes Giving Day page here.

 

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There’s another story that we don’t tell very often.

The Cle Elum Seven should have been the Cle Elum Eight. There was an eighth chimpanzee living at Buckshire with Missy, Burrito, Negra, Jody, Annie, Foxie, and Jamie who died two years before the Cle Elum Seven came to Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest. He was a male chimpanzee and we believe his name was Ceaser.

I never met him, but I think about him, and what he represents, all of the time.

It is such an amazing time in history right now with the end of biomedical testing on chimpanzees in the United States. And it’s a frustrating time because there are hundreds of chimpanzees who are waiting for their opportunity to live out the rest of their lives in a sanctuary home where the only mission is to provide them with the best care possible.

And I know there will be chimpanzees like Ceaser who won’t have this chance because they will die before they are released from their laboratory life.

It’s a fact that not all laboratories are like Buckshire, where the Cle Elum Seven lived. Most modern laboratories holding chimpanzees have some sort of outdoor space, even if it’s a small concrete fenced in area, and most chimpanzees living in laboratories now live with other chimpanzees rather than in single cages.

I would guess that the majority of people who are directly caring for chimpanzees in laboratories really care for, and even love, the chimps. This may seem strange to those who have never met someone who works in a laboratory as a caregiver, but I have met many people who have held those positions in their past or still do now. Sometimes they didn’t really know what they were getting into, and they are awakened to the injustices of using chimpanzees in biomedical testing after they came to know the chimps in labs first-hand. Often they stay in those positions because they want to make a difference in the day-to-day lives of those under their care.

Philosophically, though, laboratories and accredited sanctuaries are worlds apart. How you view a person or an animal affects how they are cared for. For accredited sanctuaries, the one and only aim is to provide the chimpanzees with a good home full of choices and social interactions and the space to figure out who they are. For laboratories, even if they are not actively using the chimpanzees in testing, the chimps are valued and viewed in terms of their contribution (for which they did not give their consent) to humans and their research questions.

This is a fundamental difference; and it’s the reason why it pains me to think about the chimpanzees, like Ceaser, who will die in laboratories even though the research has ended.

And then I think about Missy, who almost didn’t have the last eight years of her life at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest.

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Every day is about making sure that the chimpanzees in our care fully experience a life that’s all about them. It’s our moral obligation to try to give back to them at least some of what we, as a society, have taken. And we want to be able to do this for other chimpanzees coming out of laboratories.

This is why fundraising days like Great Apes Giving Day mean so much to us, and to other sanctuaries and rescue centers.

Please consider making a donation to Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, learn about all of the organizations participating in this global day of giving for great apes, and watch this Tuesday (October 4th) when the competition for the prize money heats up.

In the end, the chimpanzees and other great apes that you give your donation towards are the big winners.

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