On my first full day at the CCC (Centre du Conservation pour les Chimpanzes), I was talking with Jerome, a French volunteer, over breakfast in the kitchen. This is the communal place where we prep and eat meals together. Its a round African thatched hut, about 30' in diameter. He was explaining life in the camp and what I can expect. The main point was to understand that the unexpected is the only aspect of certainty here. He detailed the protocol sheet of information on what to do in emergencies, primarily when a chimp escapes the enclosure. As he read the list of action items, he seemed very casual and kept reiterating how unlikely it is that anything dangerous or problematic would happen.
1. Identify the chimp
2. Sound the alarm bell to notify others of the escape
3. Close and lock the food prep and vet room
4. Go to the river and wait for instructions (most chimps are afraid of deep water)
He then asked me to go join Camille so she could teach me how to prep chimp food and medicine. I am still in quarantine and am not allowed any contact with the chimps until a week has passed. There is a dedicated house for the vet clinic as well as for chimp food prep. Both rooms are difficult to work in, as they are swarmed with bees and sweltering hot. The food prep room has racks and bins for various fruits, roots, and vegetation. The chimps get oranges (small, green, resemble limes), papaya, mango, bananas, etc. The fruit comes from villages just outside the national park where our camp is located (Parc du Haut Niger). Mangos are the most prevalent fruit-bearing tree in Guinea but we buy them from villagers to help support the community. Weekly trips to Faranah, the nearest town, are made to re-supply for the week. Eggs, batteries, rice, soap, canned sauce, pasta, vegetables, cooking oil, fuel to run the generator, bread, cigarettes, powdered milk, etc. Unfortunately, toilet paper is not available (information I could have used 2 weeks ago). My two optoins to clean the balloon knot are: the standard Indian technique (dot, not feather) of water and your left hand or find the biggest softest most absorbent leaf. Getting to Faranah is a 4 hour journey through the bush on an unpaved dual track, a jarring ride in the dry season and a sloppy slog in the wet.
A few hours later, in the early afternoon, I was walking down a path and through a dense cluster of trees, I saw one of our local keepers sprinting. I found it odd that someone would do wind-sprints at the peak heat of the day but thought nothing of it. A few moments later I heard a the sound of footsteps approaching. Heavy knuckle thuds in a 4 count rhythm. Whatever was approaching wasn't bipedal. I turned around and saw a massive clump of black fur galloping just 15 yards away. A chimp was on the loose in camp. As he moved past me, he turned his head and looked at me. If you have never been in close proximity to a mature adult male chimpanzee, I can assure you that, although our arrogant homo sapien species claims to be superior, you will certainly feel inferior at this moment. They are physically imposing, heavily muscled, acrobatically agile, and have a scary pair of choppers set in our larger ancestral jaw. So, naturally, I did what any good primate would do in the presence of a more powerful primate: turned away, knelt down, and hoped he'd consider my fear paralysis as a submissive gesture. Seemed to work. He kept on truckin' right by me. Despite my position "above" him on the taxonomic pyramid, he didn't have time nor the interest to quibble over titles.
As this was my first day here, I had no idea which chimp this was and even less of a clue as to where the hell the bell was. Fortunately, I saw Jerome running in my direction and wildly waving his arms. But when I saw the panic in his face, I knew this no joke. He said, "Our largest dominant male, Bobo, escaped. Get to the river and wait there for me." By the time I found the river, most of the camp crew was already there. It's the responsibility of the vet to anesthetize an escaped animal and return him/her to the enclosure. Carol, one of the French vet's here, went looking for Bobo with a syringe full of the "nighty-night" sauce. Two hours elapsed before she was able to find and secure him.
Anesthetizing a large, potentially dangerous animal is always a dicey proposition. You cannot simply walk up to an animal which couild easily rearrange your face and limbs and sink a needle into him. Nor can you use a blow dart because it will go ballistic for a few minutes until the drug absorbs and put everyone at risk. So crafty Carol put some of the liquid med into a Fanta bottle, one of his favorite treats and left it out for him. It was enough to render him so drowsy that she could walk up to him and inject him with a proper dose.
Later this evening, over dinner, as we discussed the events of the day, I learned that Charlie, a young 5 year old male in the Petites group, got into a fight with a Green Mamba, a highly poisonous snake with neurotoxic venom. Charlie won. He took the snake by the tail and bashed it against a tree trunk. The group also encountered a Vervet monkey with a baby. They chased down the monkey and killed her and her baby. The most disturbing aspect of the kill was the fact that the chimps didn't eat their victims. Hunting for sport is not a natural animal instinct, except of course, for the human animal, which has an insatiable need to feel superior.
One of the first things I noticed here was the poor condition of the staff's skin. Everyone's arms and legs are badly pocked with bites, wounds, scrapes, scratches, etc. Curious to know what's in store for my epidermis. Not a bad first day. I must say, I like my introductions to new projects to be pumped with a healthy dose of adrenaline.
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