Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

Hope. Love. Home. Sanctuary

power

To Be Known

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This blog is a true labor of love.

It is satisfying, on a frivolous and somewhat shallow human-level, to have people like our posts and make comments. But in the world of the chimpanzees in our care, it’s a big part of their second chance in sanctuary.

To be known and respected and loved is what they deserve; what they’ve always deserved.

Sharing posts and hitting that “like” (or now maybe the “love” emoji) on Facebook may seem like a small act, but this is what allows more people to grow to understand and appreciate not just the chimpanzees at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, but chimpanzees as a species. It’s what allows hearts to grow and minds to change.

Sharing this post, these photos of Jamie, and taking the time to learn about the amazing and interesting person that she is, gives Jamie power.

Even though there’s no way to explain it to her, we know she would appreciate that there are people out there who have never met her who truly admire who she is, as she is. She would expect no less.

Jamie

Jamie

Jamie

Jamie

Jamie

Jamie

Jamie

Jamie

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

 

 

Chimpanzee Strength

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As a follow-up to the last post, I thought I’d share this article that I came across last spring regarding chimpanzee strength. Judging by your comments, you either think that Burrito is incredibly strong or that I am incredibly weak. I choose to believe the former.

Honestly, I can’t think of a human on this planet who could compete with a chimpanzee in terms of sheer strength. And yet, after all these years being around chimps, I’ve never really understood why this is. Sure, they are more muscular than most humans, but that doesn’t seem to be enough to explain such a dramatic difference in power.

There are two explanations that I’ve come across, and they both seem plausible (and they are not mutually exclusive). The first says that the chimpanzee’s greater strength is due to a difference in “musculoskeletal architecture”, meaning, basically, that their muscle fibers and the geometry of the attachments between muscle and bone are different than ours. Have you ever wondered how a 150-pound deer is able to gracefully leap over garden fences on those scrawny little legs? When you think about how powerful some animals can be with such small muscles, you start to realize that size isn’t everything. But the second explanation, available in detail from the link above, says that humans simply have more “cerebral inhibition” over muscle control. Basically, our brains limit the extent to which we can use our own muscles.  Only once in a blue moon do we hear of someone using all of their available strength, and only in times of severe stress – for example, stories of mothers lifting cars when their children are trapped underneath (just an example, I don’t know if that’s actually ever happened!). Chimps, on the other hand, go full-bore all the time, making tog-o-war with their human caregivers a short-lived game.

Anyway, I’m in no position to evaluate either explanation, but its interesting to think about.