Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

Hope. Love. Home. Sanctuary

rescue

Update

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When you begin the process of chimpanzee group formation, you do so knowing that 10-20% of all introduction attempts do not succeed. Sadly, this is the fate that we have now come to accept for our efforts to integrate Willy B, Honey B, and Mave with the Cle Elum Seven.

For the last week, Burrito and Negra had been living in relative harmony with the newcomers, and further introductions were planned for next week. Unfortunately, we were awoken yesterday at 4:30 a.m. to the sounds of screams from our closed circuit camera system. Minutes later, we arrived at the chimp house to find this group engaged in a very serious conflict. We believe it started between Burrito and Honey B but we can’t be sure. Burrito sustained some significant trauma, most notably to his scrotum. Due to the substantial risk of infection and the presence of an existing mass on one of his testicles, our veterinary team decided that castration was the best course of treatment for his injury. Honey B also sustained a serious bite to her small toe, which was later amputated. Both did well during their procedures and are recovering uneventfully thus far.

Conflicts and injury are part and parcel of the introduction process. If we took a zero-tolerance approach to injuries during integration attempts, we would almost never integrate captive chimpanzees. But there is a limit to what we should tolerate on their behalf, based on the extent of the injuries, what we think we can realistically hope to achieve for them from the process, and, ultimately, what is fair to the chimps involved. While it is still true that this group of ten could eventually be formed, to everyone’s ultimate benefit, we feel that the chimps have done all they can for now. Each chimp’s individual safety must remain the top priority.

We are disappointed and heartbroken, because there was so much potential. But we are also reminded once again to be grateful for just how much support these chimps have. Our veterinarian, Dr. Erin, immediately rushed to the sanctuary for what would become an incredibly stressful 16-hour day. Our staff, most of whom were enjoying some well-earned sleep on their days off, each responded to a 5:45 a.m. text without question and with a simple message: on my way. Other members of our veterinary team, Dr. Jen and Dr. Erika, came from the Seattle area on a moment’s notice, and we were fortunate to have surgical and ultrasound support on site from Dr. Khachatryan from Sumner Veterinary Hospital and x-ray equipment from Best Friends Mobile Veterinary Care. Board member and volunteer caregiver Jessica even covered our normal produce run while we were otherwise occupied. There is nothing that our friends and colleagues won’t do for these chimps.

We obviously didn’t hope for this outcome, but we did plan for the possibility. In the short term, Burrito and Honey B will return to their original groups, just as they were all living in the weeks following Willy B, Honey B, and Mave’s arrival. It’s possible that in time some chimps will be able to cross back and forth between groups so that the relationships they had been forming can be maintained. In early spring we plan to break ground on Phases 2 and 3 of our facility expansion, which will allow us to take in more chimps in need and create other opportunities for Willy B, Honey B, and Mave to live in a larger group that can meet all their social needs.

It may seem strange that chimps who can groom and play with one another the instant they meet or live together in a group for a week without incident would suddenly engage in such violent conflict. All I can say is that there are some things about chimpanzee behavior that you never fully understand but instead, simply come to accept. And we accept that our particular efforts in this case have, regrettably, not been successful. We’ll all take some time to heal, and then focus on creating the best sanctuary possible for these two groups of chimpanzees, as well as those to come.

The Hug

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Burrito and Willy B have now been together for nine days. This past Tuesday, we added Negra and Honey B – who get along unexpectedly well – creating a group of four. Upon entering the group, Negra did as Negra does, which is to say that she waltzed back into the playroom and made a nice comfy nest while pestering her caregivers to start dinner, as if nothing had changed. Honey B, on the other hand, came out of the gate with a message for Burrito: don’t mess with the little girl. On two occasions, as Burrito started to display, Honey B pounced on him, leaving him with a couple minor bites. Burrito seemed to be immediately overcome with the realization that the girls that had dominated him for so long were not an anomaly – they are all this way. Willy B stayed out of it entirely, as though he had received the same message from Honey B in the past and took it to heart.

With her point made, Honey B spent a considerable amount of time trying to get Burrito to groom and play. He has so far declined most of her offers, understandably. But they have maintained a peaceful relationship since.

So yesterday it was time to add Mave to the group. We had a strong feeling that Mave and Burrito would get along, based on their brief encounter in the group of ten and their interactions through the lexan as they have been housed in adjacent enclosures. And Mave seems to be a very stabilizing force wherever she goes, with her keen social awareness and penchant for giving out hugs when they are needed most. But given that Burrito was already working on a challenging relationship with Honey B, we thought it would suit him best to spend time with Mave one-on-one. As you can see, they hit it off right away and within a couple hours, both were introduced into the group with Willy B, Honey B, and Negra. This is how things will likely stay for a little while, so that Burrito can continue to build on his friendship with Willy B, work out his differences with Honey B, and find comfort in the warm fluffiness of Mave’s hugs. Negra will continue to play with her new friend Honey B and keep track of mealtimes for the staff. When the time is right, we will begin to engage Foxie with some of the newcomers so that she, like Burrito, can overcome her fears and forge new relationships.

Getting along

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At this point some of you may be wondering what it is exactly that makes the process of captive chimpanzee group formation so difficult, so I thought we could take a step back and look at some of the challenges.

It starts with biology. Free-living chimpanzees live in large communities ranging from just over a dozen to nearly two hundred individuals. The dynamic structure of these communities, a system known as fission-fusion, allows for regular changes in group size and composition in response to factors such as the abundance of food or the presence of females in estrus. This form of social organization enables chimpanzee communities to adapt to variations in resource availability by temporarily splitting into smaller parties while retaining the protection and other benefits of living in a large group.

Missy, Jamie, Annie, and Jody on Young’s Hill

But while subgroups are free to split off from and later rejoin the community, only certain individuals are generally allowed to leave their community entirely to join another. To do this successfully, it helps to be young and female.

Chimpanzee communities as a whole are understandably protective of what is most important to their survival and reproductive success; namely, access to food and potential mates. Neighboring communities threaten to compete for these scarce resources, which is why chimpanzees often exhibit such fierce territoriality. Groups of males, and in rare cases both males and females, will coordinate patrols of their territorial boundaries and attack, often lethally, lone individuals or small groups from neighboring communities that have wandered too close.

The chimpanzees at CSNW exhibit behavior that is similar to the patrols of free-living chimpanzees

As Anthony mentioned previously, males remain in their natal groups for life and form lifelong bonds with one another. Consequently, there is no biological or cultural mechanism to facilitate the transfer of males from one community to another. Nor is there a straightforward path for adult females to transfer. But as adolescent females reach sexual maturity, they generally leave their natal communities and seek out new one. This instinctual emigration is assumed to be an evolved mechanism to prevent inbreeding within the community and the timing of their departure is anything but arbitrary. While fear of outsiders remains the general rule, males are typically welcoming of young immigrant females, especially ones who arrive with estrus swellings. Resident females are not always as welcoming to the newcomers who, bear in mind, will be eating from the same fruit trees and potentially competing for the attention of resident males, but the newcomers can rely on protection from the resident males as they assimilate into the new community.

Burrito shows an interest in Annie’s swelling

So there is a clear pattern, with limited exceptions, across nearly all chimpanzee communities in Africa: There is only one reliable ticket to move between communities, and it is determined by the immutable characteristics of age and sex and to a large extent reliant on the selfish desires of the males who hold power. When we form groups in captivity, we are almost always fighting against millions of years of natural history.

Of course, chimpanzees are not products of instinct alone, but beneath the layers of culture there remain a number of instinctual tendencies that stand out in the captive environment. An example: When captive chimpanzees go to bed at night, they typically make nests just like their wild cousins. These nests may be made out of straw, wood wool, or blankets instead of branches, but they generally share one trait in particular with those of their wild counterparts: they have high sides to hold them in. For wild chimpanzees, the nest serves as a cradle to keep them from plunging dozens of feet to the ground while they slumber. Perhaps it would only make sense for captive chimpanzees to do the same, except that they create the same doughnut-shaped nests even when sleeping in the middle of a concrete floor. In fact, sometimes they sleep directly on the concrete with all of the blankets arranged into a ring around them. It’s a bit of security-seeking encoded in the biology of a species far removed from the environment in which they evolved. Instincts can be attenuated by both learning and the environment but they remain a powerful driving force in our behavior.

Jody builds a nest on the playroom floor
Though the setting and materials are different, her nest resembles those of her wild cousins

To some extent, the nurture side of the nature-nurture influence probably does mitigate some of these xenophobic tendencies. Lab-reared chimpanzees are regularly moved between pairs or small groups throughout their lives, and they do not grow up in a culture that systematically reinforces their biological predispositions towards outsiders as their wild counterparts do. In a way, captive-born chimpanzees are trained to ignore their biology. Sadly, their upbringing presents its own set of problems.

Maintaining peace and order in a chimpanzee community requires strict adherence to certain social norms and conventions. If you watch the video of Burrito and Willy B meeting alone for the first time, you can see the delicate communication required to navigate such a perilous moment. To facilitate the encounter, Willy B covers his top teeth with his upper lip and shows only his lower ones. This signals an intent not to harm – specifically, not to bite – much in the same way that a dog’s bow signals an intent to play. At the same time, he engages in vigorous “breathy panting,” a vocalization that conveys friendliness and interest. He senses Burrito’s fear and as a result he gives Burrito a wide berth. Burrito, for his part, conveys to Willy B that despite his fear he would like to get closer by extending an arm toward him. One misstep by either party and the entire process could unravel into outright aggression, as it did during their group encounter two weeks prior.

And while they overcame the risks of this initial encounter, the challenge of actually living together has, unfortunately, only begun. Sustaining friendships and alliances is difficult and constant work, and studies show that chimpanzees separated from their mothers at an early age and raised by humans exhibit social deficiencies that make group living harder as adults. These chimpanzees fail to develop the knowledge and skills required to navigate the complex and often subtle rules of chimpanzee social life. As a result, they are more likely to have to live in small groups or in some cases, alone.

Burrito’s former life as a pet, circus performer, and research subject deprived him of some of the social skills needed to succeed in a group

Despite all of this, most chimpanzees in sanctuaries, zoos, and laboratories can and do live in groups. As they should, because the benefits of a large social network are immeasurable. But we need to keep in mind what we are asking of them: to plunge ahead, ill-equipped and unprepared, and with almost no control at all, into a process that goes against their very instincts. This is one of the many sad realities of captivity for chimpanzees.

So despite our setback with the group of ten, I am, at the moment, hopeful. Burrito and Willy B have been living together since Wednesday, grooming regularly and playing with one another on occasion. These two guys overcame their fears and are experiencing the initial whispers of a bond that should have been their birthright as male chimpanzees. Whether it will be sustained over time, and amidst the turbulent influence of other group members, remains to be seen. But it’s a promising start.

Rebuilding

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The result of our final introduction was disappointing, to say the least, but all hope is not lost. I’m sharing this short clip so you can see how Burrito and Willy B got along while separated by mesh. It was a 45-minute love fest. And this was the morning after their conflict.

This is a good illustration of one of the core truths of chimpanzee life: severe conflicts do not necessarily preclude or end meaningful relationships. We didn’t force these two to get together like this; they were desperate to be together, and remain so. They were scared at first, sure, but within minutes they were grooming, kissing, and even sticking fingers in each other’s mouths – a sure sign of trust. They got off to a bad start during their first meeting but they were intent on reconciling. And after just a short time together, they would actually seek each other out for reassurance when they got anxious.

Still, it’s important to remember that these one-on-one meetings through the mesh do not necessarily predict how they will behave when meeting in the same enclosure again or when surrounded by other chimpanzees (such as, ahem, a band of very closely-bonded and strong-willed females). Behavior does not exist in a vacuum. These two will be influenced by many of the same factors if and when they meet again in person. And they, in turn, will influence those around them. Perhaps next time there will be a little less fear and uncertainty.

Burrito and Willy B have had difficult lives and they’ve missed out on so much. But the door has not closed all the way. In the wild, bonds between males are lifelong and central to their social lives. Maybe it’s not too late for these two.

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.

An Unlikely Story About Honey B

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This is a story I first told at our gala in June. Though now it has a very exciting ending or maybe more of a beginning of an ending. It’s a lot of words… feel free to skim and skip down to the photos of Honey B I took today.

PREFACE

I don’t myself believe in fate, but I could see how this tale might be interesting for those who do believe in predestination.

CHAPTER ONE

The story begins when I was working at a sanctuary called the Fauna Foundation in Quebec, Canada. The fifteen chimpanzees that I worked with at Fauna had all been used in biomedical testing at a laboratory called LEMSIP in upstate New York. When LEMSIP was closing in the late 1990s, there was a scramble, led by LEMSIP’s head veterinarian, to get the chimpanzees into sanctuaries instead of being shipped to the Coulston Foundation, a laboratory in New Mexico that was ill-regarded even within the laboratory community and had amassed numerous animal welfare violations.

The sanctuary world was very small at that time and there were not many places for chimpanzees. Gloria Grow, founder of the Fauna Foundation, had never cared for chimpanzees before, but she had a sanctuary for wayward farmed animals and she wanted to do something more.

A former LEMSIP employee had given Gloria a list from 1993 of all of the chimpanzees who lived at LEMSIP. We would pour over that list, looking for relatives of the 15 chimpanzees who arrived at Fauna in 1996. She helped to identify where some of the other chimpanzees went, whether to other sanctuaries or to Coulston.

Over the course of the three years I worked at Fauna, I spent hours looking at that list with Gloria’s handwritten notes on it. I wondered about the personalities behind all of those names. I wondered if they were okay.

I don’t know why, but some of the names just stuck with me. Honey B was one of the names on that list.

I had heard that Honey B was the half sister of Jethro, a large adolescent guy at Fauna who loved to play chase. I knew that Jethro, Honey B, and another chimpanzee at Fauna, Binky, had all been together in the “nursery” at LEMSIP after they were taken from their mothers.

 

CHAPTER TWO

In 2005, I found myself outside of New Orleans at a shelter that was taking care of dogs and cats that had been left behind after Hurricane Katrina. This was a few years after J.B. and I left Fauna for other academic and professional adventures. We were living in upstate New York at the time, and there was no way (well, maybe there was a small way) I was planning on bringing home a dog to our peaceful feline household.

But a dog at the shelter adopted me and her owners did not want her back. She was not the dog I would have chosen if I had been deliberately searching for a pup. She chased cats and didn’t want anything to do with other dogs, or other people for that matter. But she decided I was her person, and I accepted this without questioning it for very long. I broke the news to J.B. over the phone and he also didn’t question it.

Now, we needed a name for her. The name that I landed on was Honey B. Not Honey Bee, though I’m sure that’s what most people thought of when I mentioned her name. No, this somewhat surly Chow Chow from Louisiana that was my new best friend was named after a chimpanzee I had never met.

 

CHAPTER THREE

Honey B the dog, J.B., me, and our three cats (Cuba, LouLou, and Peanut) moved from our Victorian house in upstate New York to work at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest in 2008, just a month before Annie, Missy, Jody, Jamie, Foxie, Burrito, and Negra arrived from Buckshire, the laboratory holding facility where they had lived for decades. Buckshire leased out the chimpanzees they owned to different laboratories, including LEMSIP before it closed down.

Buckshire provided us with some of the medical records of the seven chimpanzees who now called Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest and Cle Elum, Washington their home. I was looking through Missy’s record, and lo and behold, I discovered that she was the mother of the chimpanzee Honey B! I dug up the old LEMSIP list that for some reason I had moved with me from Quebec to Massachusetts to New York to Washington and confirmed this information.

I thought, “what are the odds of that?!”

Honey B the dog didn’t pay much attention to the chimpanzees, but after the chimps’ two-acre outdoor area, Young’s Hill, was built, J.B. and I would take her on walks around the outside of the perimeter fence. Despite her lack of affection for more than a few (okay, two) people, she was a really easygoing dog in a lot of ways and didn’t need to be on a leash. Every once in a while, she and Missy would run down the hill on opposite sides of the fence together.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

In May of this year, I learned that the chimpanzees at Wildlife Waystation were in need of new homes. I knew that Honey B the chimpanzee, the daughter of Missy and the namesake to my beloved now-deceased Chow Chow, lived there. I had still never met her. Side-note: Missy’s son Josh also lives at Wildlife Waystation.

We were just wrapping up the first phase of the expansion at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, expecting to bring three or four chimpanzees in need to (hopefully) expand the chimpanzee family of seven.

After visiting Wildlife Waystation, we knew we could and needed to immediately help at least some of the chimpanzees there. J.B. and I met all of the 42 chimpanzees. They are all wonderful and deserving. Their groups vary in size, but there were only three groups of an appropriate number for us to consider bringing to CSNW. After talking to the care staff about personalities, it seemed clear that Honey B and her group mates Willy B and Mave, would have the best chance of integrating into our group of seven.

Less than three months later, J.B. and I drove down to California and returned with Honey B the chimpanzee and her two friends.

Four days ago, mother Missy and daughter Honey B touched each other for the first time after 30 years of being apart. It was clear from the records we have that Honey B was taken from Missy when she was less than a day old, and there’s no indication that they recognize they are related, but we hope there’s a chance they will become friends.

Left to right: Honey B, Missy, Annie

Progress

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Have I told you how much I like Mave?

Today, as I was cleaning, I watched Honey B and Annie start to play. At this point in the process we are thrilled when previously unfamiliar chimps engage in play, but this made my heart stop. Annie is extremely insecure and she has a tendency to overreact at the slightest provocation, real or imagined. Long-time blog readers may remember some early difficulties between Annie and Foxie for just this reason. Honey B, on the other hand, is very confident – so confident, in fact, that she doesn’t bother to think about how others might perceive her actions. Add to the mix the fact that she shows her top teeth when playing and has already gone out of her way to assert her dominance over Annie already and you could see where this was going to end up. The game turned from a slow-motion chase to a raucous tickle fight, and before long Honey B had wrestled Annie into a corner.

We have a policy of not interacting with the chimps during critical periods of the introduction process because the chimps may see us as a source of support when in fact we are of no help at all on the other side of the caging if and when things go south. But as I watched Honey B hover over Annie, I involuntarily whispered, “OK, Honey B, that’s enough,” perhaps hoping that if I just put it out there into the universe it would manifest. And at that moment, Mave walked all the way across the room and wiggled her way between the two without engaging either. Mave plays everything close to the vest, and she made it appear as if she had somewhere to be and was just shuffling though. But I know that she saw the train wreck coming, too.

That kind of social intelligence is invaluable for this group right now. And when it comes wrapped in a such a big, fuzzy package, how can you not fall in love?

OK, enough about Mave (for now).

We saw a lot of progress today. There were fewer arguments and no injuries. And the arguments they did have seemed less related to interpersonal dominance struggles and more to do with overall anxiety and misinterpreted behavior. Just as importantly, we saw a lot of affiliative interactions. Chimps from different families reassured each other during moments of tension. Missy and Annie even spent some time grooming Willy B in the greenhouse.

The girls are both scared of and awed by him and they greet him with elaborate submissive gestures. He has largely avoided them but he is beginning to accept their submission more readily. He even went out of his way to groom Jody this afternoon (until Annie started screaming).

The group has been getting more comfortable at mealtime, which requires them to be in closer proximity with the potential for competition over food, though we definitely bring enough for everyone. Jody seemed pleased to get a spot next to the big man at lunch.

The big man, however, is a little more focused on food right now.

Overall, the new three seem to be incredibly comfortable while Missy, Annie, and to some extent Jody, continue to show signs of anxiety. And that’s understandable – they have been separated from many of the chimps that they have always relied on for support. Missy is always Jamie’s Number 2 and Annie always relies on Missy’s steadiness when things get tough. Now that we’ve tinkered with the group, the dynamics have changed.

But this was done to protect Honey B, Willy B, and Mave and so far it seems like a wise choice. That’s the thing about introductions, though – you can always make a plausible argument for doing it differently. Should chimps meet one-on-one or in groups? Should they first spend time with each other separated by mesh or does that only lead to frustration? Should introductions be done over the course of a week or over six months to a year? Should dominant chimps be integrated first, last, or in the middle? Should overly anxious chimps be medicated to help calm them? How severe does an injury need to be to stop the process? While there is some science to inform our decisions, there are simply too many facility designs and too many chimpanzee personalities in this world to be able to rely on a formula.

So we’ll continue to take this one day at a time and rely on Mave to lead the way.