Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

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rescue

One More Walk

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I can’t tell you how many times I have wished that Jamie would just go to bed.

On a typical day, we close off the chimps’ outdoor habitats around the time that they bed down for the night in the greenhouses and indoor playrooms. Given the sanctuary’s relative proximity to a public road and the unfortunate abundance of rattlesnakes in the area, we require at least two staff members to be on duty at the chimp house when the chimps are in the habitats so we can respond promptly to an emergency. Diana and I are on site nearby overnight, but we need to sleep, too.

If the chimps decline to go to bed after dinner, and instead decide to stay outside, the staff put in a little overtime. For most of the year, shorter days and cooler nighttime temperatures discourage late-night outdoor activities. But summer demands them.

Jamie has always had unique ways of exerting control over her caregivers. Some are obvious, like a spit in the face or a well-aimed handful of feces. Others are more subtle. Most nights, Jamie has a list of last-minute demands as we are closing up for the night. It could be a favorite pair of boots or a page torn from one of her books about bonobos. It’s not the items themselves that matter; if it were she could easily ask for them earlier in the day. It’s her way of deciding when the workday is over.

We’ll do just about anything to get Jamie what she needs before bed, but we could still close the chimp house door and walk away if we were so inclined. Not so when the chimps are on Young’s Hill. Jamie has been here for 17 years. She knows the rules, and how to use them to her advantage.

There have been summers when Jamie would keep us late almost every day of the week. If we were lucky she’d let us off after a couple extra hours. Other times we’d be here until 10pm, with only the moon to light our paths. And by late summer, after months of these long workdays, we’d be praying for Jamie to lose just a bit of her stamina. As we’d crest the top of Young’s Hill on our third or fourth walk of the evening, I’d look down to see the glow from my living room window. I’d imagine sitting down to dinner or sipping a cold beer on the porch. I’d imagine climbing into my own bed.

But with the flick of her wrist, Jamie would insist that we march onward.

Jamie was a walking machine then. Her record was 14 laps in a day, which adds up to about 3.5 miles up and down a hill with a more than 100-ft elevation gain. These days she rests more. She’ll make us wait while she climbs a tower and watches the sun set over the mountains. I don’t know if she’s gained more of an appreciation for the natural beauty of our surroundings or if she just needs an excuse to catch her breath. Perhaps it’s just another control tactic. Whatever the reason, these are some of my favorite moments.

Jamie and I were both 30 years old when we met. When you’re 30 you only think about the future. I’m speaking for the both of us here, but of course we can’t know for certain what chimpanzees think about. She certainly had nothing in her past worth remembering.

Now that we’re both a lot closer to 50, the walks feel different. There are fewer of them, and they feel more special. I can’t help but feel that for Jamie, too, they are imbued with nostalgia.

In hindsight, I can’t believe how much I used to hope that Jamie would let us go home on time. Now when she watches me close the door, I want to ask her:

Are you sure you don’t want to take another walk?

George’s Progress

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George has now been at CSNW for 3-1/2 months and he is finally in the thick of the dyadic introduction process, which means he is having one-on-one meetings with his potential group mates in controlled settings.

So far, George has done best when meeting other guys. He has now cruised through multiple intros with Cy, Terry, and Gordo. He’s engaged in lots of playful roughhousing, a few bouts of grooming, and some of the cutest hand-holding you’ve ever seen. More importantly, he has shown that he can adjust his own behavior to meet the needs of the chimps he is with. For example, if another chimp is too nervous to roughhouse, he will give them space and exaggerate his play signals to put them at ease. When Terry became overwhelmed with anxiety during an intro, George sat patiently in the middle of the room and beckoned Terry to come back, all the while nodding his head to provide reassurance. The amount of self-control he exhibits and his attention to the emotional state other chimps are both remarkable given his social history.

George ingratiating himself with the alpha male, Cy.

His meetings with the girls have been hit or miss. He’s had several great meetings with Rayne, but also a couple of minor conflicts that led to brief bouts of screaming and chasing, with a few slaps thrown in for good measure. The first may have just been the result of George not knowing that some females actually stand up for themselves in the face of typical male intimidation (you’re in Rayne’s world now, George!). The second was almost certainly a misunderstanding during play. Thankfully, neither of them were hurt in these encounters (outside of George’s pride, perhaps) but subsequent meetings have been a little more tense. Dora has only met George at the mesh and the intro didn’t proceed any further than that at the time due to Dora’s reluctance. We decided to have George meet Mave as an “easy” female intro, and it was—until Mave got a little personal with her grooming and George panicked. It was the typical Why are you screaming? Because you’re screaming! You started it! I thought you did!

Rayne introducing George to his new boss.

None of this is all that unusual or unexpected, even for chimps with lots of social experience. But one important skill that George hasn’t demonstrated yet is the ability to reconcile. Chimps have conflicts all the time but they go to great lengths to quickly repair any damage to their relationships and move on. When the girls have attempted to reconcile, George has given them the cold shoulder. That’s not going to cut it.

But he’s showing himself to be a quick learner and he’s got plenty of time. While we’re all eager for George to join a group, it’s more important that he has some time to test out and hopefully improve his social skills in one-on-one settings. George may be in good with the guys, but when he joins the group and the girls get mad at him—which they inevitably will—some of those boys will immediately remember which team they are really on (hint: it won’t be the one with the new guy).

With these new relationships being as critical as they are, we’re also hopeful that George will become more comfortable grooming. The other chimps are eager to groom him and he does accept, but with all the enthusiasm of a hostage (though I swear he was asking Gordo to groom him at one point this afternoon). He has only briefly groomed other chimps, even with Terry lifting and manipulating his hand to get him started. Grooming is currency in the chimp world. George does show interest in grooming humans, so hopefully he’ll start showing that same interest in his chimp friends soon enough.

Relax, George!

One area where George has really surpassed our expectations is the speed at which he adapted to the outdoors. Some chimps take years to become comfortable walking on grass or venturing far away from the indoor spaces that tend to feel safer and more familiar. But George walked straight to the top of the Bray on Day 1 and he has only become more comfortable since. He has yet to climb the towers at the very top, but it’s only a matter of time now. While I know that many people are eager for George to be joined by a friend or two on his Bray adventures, we’d like for his play dates to be a little more predictably uneventful before sending them off into the habitat together.

Three and a half months may seem like a long time, but just imagine the world from his perspective—the changes he’s endured, the fears he’s had to overcome, and the amount that he’s had to learn. It must be overwhelming. Thankfully, he’s off to a great start.

Medical Mysteries and Miracles

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Did we ever tell you about the time Willy B went blind?

Caring for chimpanzees is an endless parade of difficult choices, but no decision is more wrenching than choosing when to intervene when a chimp becomes ill. Veterinary care for chimpanzees falls into two distinct categories: those procedures that we can do through the mesh with their cooperation, and those that require anesthesia. Positive reinforcement training broadens the range of diagnostics that can be performed cooperatively, but when a chimpanzee is really sick, its limitations quickly become apparent. If the tests than you can do cooperatively are insufficient or inconclusive, what’s next? How sure are you that the condition is serious enough to warrant further action? Are you willing to dart and sedate a chimpanzee for what could be a bad case of gas?

We find ourselves in these situations far more often than we would like. Like this past January, when Willy went blind.

I remember getting called on the radio a little after 8am. In the course of their opening rounds, the staff had noticed that Willy’s eyes were closed tight and he was having trouble navigating his enclosure. Rayne, Mave, and Gordo were all inspecting his eyes and showing concern for their friend who was in obvious distress. The staff immediately notified Dr. Erin and isolated Willy in the Front Rooms.

Were his eyes irritated? Could he open them at all? Was he hit in the face? Was it neurological? Other than some very slight discharge from his left eye and some understandable anxiety, he appeared otherwise healthy. We checked the overnight security camera footage, which showed Willy B making his nest as usual the previous night. And as we had thought, the evening was calm and peaceful, with no fights or falls that might have provided the opportunity for a smack to the face or a knock on the head. After he awoke in the morning and descended from the catwalk, however, he could clearly be seen groping his way across the playroom floor. Something had changed while he was asleep.

Dr. Erin was instrumental in creating a working group for veterinarians within the North American Primate Sanctuary Alliance. She queried her colleagues to see if anyone  had ever encountered something like this. Besides their concern and offers of support, the most common response was something to the effect of, “Wow, that’s really weird.”

Willy remained in isolation for the rest of the day while Dr. Erin and the team continued with what tests they could and prepared for everything from neurological consults to a CT scan. Willy went to bed that night without having opened his eyes once.

I went up early the next morning, hoping that his condition would have miraculously improved overnight. But his eyes were still closed and he could only orient towards me by the sound of my voice. He showed no reaction to a floodlight being shined directly at his eyes at close range.

Later, I offered to serve breakfast to Willy. His anxiety had subsided, and was calmly taking his fruit from me through the mesh when I placed it directly in his hand. I left Willy for a brief moment to speak with the staff serving breakfast to the rest of the group, and when I returned, Willy was patiently waiting for the rest of his fruit. With his eyes open.

He reverted to closing his eyes for brief periods throughout the day but by the following morning it was as if nothing had ever happened. He was reunited with his group and the behavior has not returned since.

The most common medical dilemmas we encounter are ones involving fatigue and inappetence. All of us get an upset stomach or cramps from time to time. Food becomes less appealing and all we want to do is lay down and rest. Nothing to worry about, right? Then again, we also get appendicitis, which requires emergency surgery. It’s good to know the difference.

Not too long ago, Burrito was displaying these same symptoms. He was showing up for meals but eating less, and he was overall less active than usual. His condition continued to worsen a bit over the course of 36 hours and the other chimps were starting to notice.

Again, there’s a lot we can do short of anesthetizing a chimp and examining them in the clinic. Dr. Erin immediately works up a differential diagnosis which guides both the things we monitor and measure and how long we wait before intervening more invasively. Food grade glitter comes in handy when you want to know if a particular chimp in the group is having bowel movements (and if you happen to like your poop festive). Remote thermometers and thermal cameras can show hot spots on the body that might indicate inflammation. Heart rate, respiratory rate, and other vitals can be gathered through observation or with devices like KardiaMobile. But sometimes everything looks normal and the chimp is still sick.

One afternoon, a few of us came upon Burrito as he was laying on the floor on Front Room 3. This is not a spot that he would usually rest. Annie and Negra were both hunched over him and Annie was very deliberately pressing on his abdomen with her hands like an doctor testing for abdominal tenderness. While I was grateful to Doctor Annie for investigating his symptoms, the scene was not encouraging. In cases like this, we have a plan put together and ready to implement should we feel the need to intervene with more invasive tests; it seemed like this might be the trigger.

But Doctor Annie was persistent. She turned it into a game and soon he was up and moving around. The two continued to play. Notably, Annie did not take her focus off of Burrito’s belly, which she continued to gently pat as the two hugged and wrestled.

Over the next few days, Burrito’s appetite returned. And like Willy B, he was not inclined to look back. There were meals to be eaten and games of chase to be played.

Every great ape caregiver has dozens of stories like this, because there will always be times when the wisest course of action is to wait and see. Spontaneous recoveries don’t necessarily preclude further action, as veterinarians may have legitimate concerns that an underlying illness or disease, such as a stroke or a partial bowel obstruction, warrants further investigation, even if things appear resolved. But in many cases, we simply thank the chimp gods and move on.

Bray & Play – George Continues to Make Progress!

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When rescued chimpanzees arrive at the sanctuary, there’s a lot to be intimidated by: unknown caregivers, wide open spaces, and unfamiliar chimps all around. So we try to take things one step at a time. This morning, George went on the Bray at the same time that his neighbors were outside for the very first time and he handled it like a champ! PLUS: Bonus footage of George’s 2nd meeting with Terry!

We also celebrated the anniversary of Honey B, Willy B, and Mave’s arrival today. Can you believe it’s been six years? Actually, when Willy B wakes us all up in the middle of the night with his cage-rattling displays, it sometimes feels like he’s been here for 60. But for the most part, it seems like they just got here yesterday. The party forages included pasta with veggie sauce, Dixie cups filled with juice-soaked chow, berries, tomatoes, figs, and endives. I wasn’t able to to snap too many photos of the guests of honor, or anyone for that matter, but here are a few.

Terry:

Cy:

Gordo:

Beans (Honey B):

Missy’s Trip to the Clinic

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Recently, during the course of a positive reinforcement training session, Jenna noticed a spot on Missy’s gums that indicated a possible tooth infection. Missy is considered a higher anesthetic risk patient due to her age (less than one month shy of the big five-oh) and a previous adverse reaction to anesthesia, so Dr. Erin assembled an experienced team that could safely diagnose and treat her.

Dr. Erin and Krissy were assisted yesterday by many familiar faces, including anesthesiologist Dan Low, vet tech Jennifer Garcia, echo tech Amy Owens, sonographer Korey Krause, and veterinarians Donna Menshing (also a CSNW board member) and Lexi McGilvray. It was also our first opportunity to work with Dr. Charles Dyer of the Dental Coalition for Conservation.

Preparing a chimp for an exam involves isolating them from their group, typically the night before, and then moving the other chimps to a separate part of the facility in the morning so that we can administer the initial injection safely and without interference.  Negra, Foxie, Jamie, and Burrito were happy to take a walk on Young’s Hill before breakfast but, predictably, Annie would not leave Missy’s side. After some intense negotiation involving bananas and juice, we agreed that Annie could stay and keep watch over Missy but from two rooms down.

The positive reinforcement training team—Sabrina, Jenna, and Ellen—had prioritized Missy’s injection training over the last several weeks and their work paid off, as Missy calmly accepted an injection by hand from Ellen. Once anesthetized, Missy was weighed and brought into the on-site veterinary clinic.

As predicted, Missy kept the anesthesia team on their toes but they were prepared. The decision was made to pull two incisors and slightly narrow the scope of imaging and other diagnostics so as not to prolong the exam any longer than necessary.

Annie was relieved to see Missy returned to Front Room 1 for recovery.

The team, including chimp house volunteer and retired nurse, Nancy, monitored Missy’s vitals closely until she was alert and active. All the while, the chimp house staff and volunteers worked around Missy’s procedure and recovery to keep up with the routine.

This morning, Missy was back with her group and ready to forage.

We’re grateful to Dr. Erin and to her incredible team of volunteer medical professionals for dedicating their time and their hearts to Missy’s care, with particular thanks to Dr. Dyer for traveling all the way from Texas (!) to take part and share his knowledge of exotic animal dentistry.

And as for Missy, I sure hope the Tooth Fairy can pay in tomatoes.