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.
Today, the chimps watched from the greenhouse as heavy rainstorms passed through Cle Elum. Rain is a rare occurrence here in the summer and while it puts a damper on the chimps’ outdoor activities, they seemed to welcome its return as much as we did. They curled up next to one another in cozy nests, lulled by the cool, humid air and the steady drum of rain on the greenhouse roof.
It was a very different reaction than the one we witnessed eight years ago, when the rains finally returned to Central Washington after their usual summer hiatus. Then, the chimps were just settling into their new life here at the sanctuary after living for decades in a windowless basement. As the first drops fell, the chimps rushed to the windows and doors to investigate. When the drizzle turned into a steady rain, the chimps let out deafening alarm calls. Alarm calls? At rain? We were momentarily stumped, until we remembered that the Cle Elum Seven hadn’t seen rain in decades – or for some, in their entire lives.
Days like this remind me of how much things have changed over the last eight years. These seven chimps have completely transformed before our very eyes. And while we watched them recover and grow and eventually thrive in sanctuary, their counterparts still in labs were granted new protections, first by the NIH and then by the Fish and Wildlife Service, effectively ending the era of chimpanzee research both in the United States and around the world.
These changes happened far more rapidly than I ever would have imagined. But while we’ve finally nudged the lines of our circle of moral concern ever-so-slightly to include chimpanzees, we still haven’t let go of the mindset that allowed Annie, Burrito, Foxie, Jamie, Jody, Missy, and Negra to be locked away in the first place. That is, that when humans are concerned, the ends always justify the means. This was addressed in a powerful Op-Ed in the New York Times today by Dr. John Gluck, a former primate researcher and thoughtful advocate for our primate cousins. We had the pleasure of receiving a visit from John, along with the sanctuary’s good friend Dr. Hope Ferdowsian, earlier this summer. I urge you to read what he has to say, though I should warn you that the article includes two disturbing images.
When the rain subsided this afternoon, the chimps spilled back onto Young’s Hill. Jamie picked up where she left off, patrolling her territory, this time accompanied by Ellie the Elk. Missy ran and swung and climbed everything in sight. Others searched for food left over from the morning’s breakfast forage. And Negra, as you might have guessed, stayed tucked in her nest, dreaming of dinner. These chimps emerged from the darkness of their laboratory lives and found peace in sanctuary. They, and others like them, are now protected because people fought for them.
The 70,000 primates still in labs are counting on us to do the same for them.
An intriguing article is making the rounds about a primatologist named Koichiro Zamma who has developed a bed, called the humankind evolution bed, that is based on how chimpanzees construct their own beds in the forests. Apparently he tried out a chimpanzee-constructed nest while tracking chimpanzees in the wild and found it to be very comfortable, waking up quite refreshed after his night of nesting.
A prototype of his invention is currently on display at Kyoto University Museum in Japan. Articles say this about the bed: “The mattress features a depression in the centre to replicate the natural dip in a chimp’s treetop bed and has a raised periphery for the head, legs and arms. It is supported by a frame made from woven paper string for maximum breathability, and eight curved legs that are designed to allow the bed to rock almost imperceptibly.”
Megumi Kaji of the Research Association of Sleep and Society takes a nap on the humankind evolution bed. Photograph: Koichiro Zamma
As we’ve written in the past, chimpanzees in captivity make similar constructions for their nests as their free-living counterparts, building up walls of material (blankets, straw, paper, etc), and laying in the middle.
Jody is a master nest-maker:
Missy makes a pretty mean nest too. This was one of my favorite photos from the early days of the sanctuary:
In fact, these two were featured in this tutorial-style blog post about how to nest.
Here are some more photos of nesting from the Cle Elum Seven:
I have to admit that I wonder if perhaps Zamma’s restful night of sleep was due to being particularly exhausted after a day of following chimpanzees around the forest, but I remain intrigued.
What do you think – are chimpanzees on to something that we should be paying attention to? Should we ditch our flat mattresses? Would you want a humankind evolution bed?
Today is Jody’s 38th birthday. Around here, we celebrate the chimps’ birthdays just as we would our own – a day filled with gifts and activities centered around the birthday guy or gal. Throughout the day, Jody will make giant nests of blankets and straw, pick dandelions from Young’s Hill, and enjoy flowers brought by volunteers and staff. We hope it will be all that Jody could ask for and more. But Jody’s birthday is always bittersweet. Because we don’t know her actual date of birth, we celebrate Jody’s birthday on Mother’s Day as a tribute to the mother that she was and, sadly, could have been if she had been given the chance.
We know very little about Jody’s early years. We are told that she was born in 1975, though these dates are often guesses, and spent some time performing in a circus. Like all chimpanzees in entertainment, she eventually became too strong and willful to control, and at that point she was purchased by the Buckshire Corporation in Pennsylvania.
In the 1970’s and 1980’s, demand was high for chimpanzees in the biomedical research community. Chimpanzees were being used to test experimental hepatitis vaccines and other pharmaceuticals, and with the emergence of HIV/AIDS the demand grew even higher. Buckshire purchased chimpanzees from breeders, importers, and circuses and then leased those chimpanzees out to laboratories for profit.
Buckshire leased their chimps primarily to two laboratories: White Sands Research Center, which later became the infamous Coulston Foundation, in New Mexico, and the Laboratory for Experimental Medicine and Surgery in Primates, otherwise known as LEMSIP, in New York. In 1981, Jody was shipped to White Sands to be used in hepatitis research and for breeding.
White Sands wasted no time with Jody. Within three days of her arrival, she was housed with a chimpanzee named Tom for breeding. She was routinely anesthetized, or “knocked down” in lab parlance, for physical exams and to be injected or provide blood samples for research. Her first knock down came on her 10th day at the lab. She was 6 years old. She was intubated, her blood was drawn, and she was given a new tattoo – “WSRC #37.”
Over the next year and a half, Jody was regularly transferred between cages. Sometimes she was with another female, sometimes by herself, but usually she was with a male for breeding purposes…Max, Mack, John, Magoo….all in an attempt to create the next generation of lab chimpanzees.
Finally, on August 6, 1982, lab technicians found that they had succeeded in impregnating Jody and she was transferred to the “P.G. Cage” by herself. The following January, Jody gave birth for the first time. The technician’s notes read:
1/4/83 – 4cc Ketaset IM.Delivered infant baby male – taken away to nursery…Baby – Male WSRC #66 OPY – appears healthy.
In the wild, chimpanzee mothers will nurse their babies for the first five years. Their bond is incredibly strong and during that time the entire world revolves around their child, just as it does for human mothers. But Jody never got to nurse her baby, or hold him, or carry him on her back, or teach him about the world. She was immediately knocked down and her baby was stolen. Six weeks after delivering and losing her first baby, Jody was put into a cage with a male named Rufus for breeding, and the cycle continued.
Jody would go on to have eight other babies and two miscarriages and endure at least 52 knockdowns at White Sands. The technician’s notes tell the same story over and over again, with chilling detachment. Jody delivers a baby, and then she is anesthetized with a chemical anesthetic called ketamine (a.k.a. Ketaset or Vetalar) so that the baby can be taken away. The “IM” in these notes stands for “intramuscular” – this is not like slipping something in her drink…she was being stabbed with syringes or shot with darts.
11/23/83 – 4cc Ketaset IM. Delivered healthy infant male #88…removed and taken to nursery
6/20/84 – Found approx. 2-month old fetus + placenta in cage this a.m.
4/26/85 – Delivered healthy looking baby at 10:30pm…3cc Ketaset IM. Not taking care of baby. Infant removed to nursery. Animal does not appear to be feeling well. Did not eat any fruit this date.
3/15/86 – Delivered healthy infant early a.m. this date. 3 1/2 cc Ketaset IM. Mother was leaving infant on the floor – infant removed + taken to nursery. Appears to be a healthy animal #142 Cliff, male.
5/20/87 – Delivered healthy male infant between 11:30 and 12:00 pm…5cc Ketaset IM. Infant male #162 Clay removed and taken to nursery, Mother leaving infant unattended.
4/26/88 – PATHOLOGIST’S NOTE: Bloody mass found in cage – test indicates spontaneous abortion due to acute, hemorrhagic placentitis
1/4/89 – Arrived for night checks at 10:15pm…found infant alive in cage no more than one hour old – mother not taking good care of infant. 4 1/2 cc Ketaset IM. Removed infant male #0187 – appeared healthy.
9/30/90 – Delivered healthy infant female approx. 4 to 6 a.m. this date. Mother not taking good care of infant- leaving infant on floor unattended. 4 1/2 cc Vetalar IM, infant removed to nursery.
1/14/92 – Delivered healthy male at approx. 2:50pm this date. Mother not taking good care of baby. Leaving baby on floor unattended. 4.5 cc Vetalar IM Infant removed at 4:05pm, taken to nursery. Drew milk out for baby.
2/19/93 – Delivered infant early a.m. this date. 0515 hrs found infant on cage floor.Infant very cold. Removed infant immediately to nursery, mother not caring for infant. Infant male #236 Taylor.
Nine babies and two miscarriages in ten years.
The notes repeatedly state that Jody was not taking proper care of her infants, and this was very likely true. Chimpanzees who were stolen from their own mothers shortly after birth and then forced to endure life in a laboratory cage cannot be expected to care for their children properly. And if her date of birth is correct, she was still a child herself when she became pregnant. But the labs also had multiple incentives to take the babies from their mothers right away. First, a hand-reared chimpanzee is often easier to “work with” than a chimpanzee raised by a protective mother. But more importantly, Jody’s purpose at White Sands was to create more chimpanzees. Had she been allowed to raise and nurse her children as mothers in the wild would do, she would only give birth once every five years. By taking her babies away, they could keep her constantly pregnant.
Jody had the potential to be a great mother. She is tender, sensitive, and caring, but also fiercely protective of herself and her family. She deserved to be raised by her own mother and to learn what it is like to be loved unconditionally, and she deserved the chance to show her own children the same love.
One of the difficult things about sanctuaries is that you can’t make everything right again. For Jody, that time has passed. But what we can do, what we must do, is honor Jody and all the mothers whose children were stolen by never allowing this to happen again, and to help Jody heal by making each day more interesting, more exciting, and more hopeful than the last.
At Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest, we made a conscious decision to focus on sharing the personalities of the chimpanzees with everyone we could – to show who they are and the steps they are taking to recover from their past lives as biomedical research subjects.
There are more happy, goofy, playful, funny moments in a day at the sanctuary than we could possibly share with everyone. We treasure each of these moments and are so thankful to everyone who has helped us to create a place where the Cle Elum Seven can find joy.
But we know that there are nearly 1,000 other chimpanzees still in biomedical research within the United States who deserve the same opportunity – the chance to live out their lives in a legitimate sanctuary where they can begin to experience happiness. Seeing lists of numbers or names from labs that represent chimpanzees is a haunting experience. Each number is a chimpanzee full of personality just like Burrito, Negra, Foxie, Jamie, Jody, Missy and Annie, and some of those chimpanzees are relatives of the seven – sons, daughters and cousins.
Last week we sent out an e-newsletter about 110 chimpanzees that the government claimed were being retired, though 100 of them are slated to move to another laboratory, not a sanctuary.
It also happens to be National Primate Liberation Week next week. If you live in the Seattle area, you can participate in events that are being organized by Seattle’s Northwest Animal Rights Network (NARN), Action for Animals, and the Seattle Animal Defense League. Check the NARN calendar for details on all local events. There are no chimpanzees being used in biomedical testing in the state of Washington, but there are countless monkeys used by the University of Washington and by private laboratories. For a list of primate liberation week events happening across the country, check the Stop Animal Experimentation Now! website.
There are definite signs that the end of chimpanzee biomedical research in the United States is coming to an end, particularly with the progress on the Great Ape Protection and Cost Savings Act, but we must keep the pressure up and make sure that the last of the chimpanzees in laboratories are sent to legitimate sanctuaries, and we must advocate for the tens of thousands of non-chimpanzee primates who will never know life outside of a laboratory cage.
Negra at the Buckshire Corporation before coming to sanctuary.Negra on Young’s Hill at Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest
Here’s the link to the King 5 story that just aired about Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest: http://ow.ly/aGS3M
Thanks Gary and Ken for making the trek out to Cle Elum and for sharing the GoPro footage! And thanks to GoPro camera donors who helped us purchase the camera earlier this year and the special group of volunteers who helped install the camera mounts on Young’s hill (more on that later).
In fact, it’s not really about poop-throwing, but about aimed throwing in general (some chimps just happen to throw feces because that’s what’s available to them, and because they know that it will provoke a strong reaction from the recipient). Specifically, the authors propose that the development of brain areas responsible for aimed throwing, a complex behavior requiring both planning for the future and knowledge of velocity and trajectory, laid the foundation for the development of human language.
The origin of human language is an interesting subject and chimpanzee caregivers, much like journalists, love to discuss poop. So I was interested in reading this paper. But reading about the methods reminded me that there is a whole world of invasive research on chimpanzees that goes largely unnoticed.
For this study, the authors used 78 chimpanzees from the Yerkes Regional Primate Research Center in Georgia. The chimps were separated from their social groups and anesthetized. They were then transported to an MRI machine where their brains were scanned. Following the scan, they remained in isolation for 6-12 hours until the anesthesia wore off.
Anesthetizing a chimpanzee is something that should never be taken lightly. From a chimpanzee’s perspective, the options range from bad to worse. For this study, the laboratory immobilized the chimpanzees using ketamine, an anesthetic commonly used at zoos, sanctuaries, and laboratories due to its high safety margin. It’s very difficult to lethally overdose a chimpanzee on ketamine, but that doesn’t mean that the drug’s effects are pleasant. Ketamine is a dissociative drug; it creates perceptual distortions and a feeling of separation from one’s own body. It is related to PCP and is similarly abused as a street drug. Some chimps tolerate ketamine better than others. One chimpanzee that Diana and I worked with at the Fauna Foundation, named Billy Jo, had a terrible reaction to ketamine. In the laboratory, he chewed his own thumb off while under anesthesia – on two separate occasions. Watching him recover from anesthesia, even in the caring environment of the sanctuary, was heartbreaking.
Many captive chimps will present a part of their body to the technician for injection. Either they have learned the hard way that it’s easier than being darted, or they have been trained through operant conditioning. I know that Yerkes uses operant conditioning for this purpose, so I’m sure that many of the chimps used in this study cooperated with their own anesthesia. But training is time-consuming, and some chimps are less receptive to training than others (and who can blame them if they refuse to cooperate!), so I would also guess that many had to be darted. Chimps are usually darted using an air- or CO2-powered pistol to shoot pressurized or explosive darts which eject the anesthetic drug upon impact.
Anesthesia is a sad fact of life for captive chimps. There are times when medical intervention is necessary and in the best interest of the chimpanzee, and most procedures require a chimpanzee to be immobilized for their safety and ours. But if we are going to separate a chimpanzee from her family, shoot her with a dart, and inject her with drugs that can induce fear, confusion, and anxiety, I think we need a better justification than curiosity about the origins of language.
Biomedical research involving chimpanzees is commonly portrayed as a necessary evil, but there is nothing even remotely necessary about research like this. MRI’s and PET scans may technically be noninvasive, but not when used on chimpanzees against their will. At a primatology conference I attended last year, many researchers whose careers revolve around brain imaging were upset because the Great Ape Protection and Cost Savings Act would ban experiments like these. Here’s hoping we can get it passed soon.
