Stolen Food and Rutger Hauer’s Carrots

 Yesterday at the zoo we witnessed a wonderful tussle. It was the first really hot day we’ve had for a while (eighty degrees) and the keepers responded by passing out homemade chunky icicles to the Great Apes.

We’re lucky in San Diego to have a dual species exhibit of Orangutans and Siamangs and watching the different personalities of the two tribes and their interactions is often compulsive viewing.
The Siamangs are incredibly odd looking Gibbons; they have extremely long arms and hands like hooks for effortless swinging. Watching them move from branch to branch is beautiful; they perform high bar moves with a grace that would make Russian gymnastic coaches weep for joy. On the ground however they are ungainly and comic with odd stilt like legs that seem to be different sizes. Out of the trees their extended arms are a liability and they carry them like awkward sticks welded to their bodies.
The Orangutans outnumber and outweigh the Siamangs but they are so calm and chill that they never hurt them even when the Siamangs are getting in their faces and really asking for it. For the most part they seem to live harmoniously.

A couple of years ago both groups had babies and it was a joy to see them all playing together and helping the kids explore their environment safely. On any given day you might also find the Orangutans helping the Siamangs to use sticks to get at the ketchup and chutney the keepers hide in the artificial ant hills hidden around the exhibit. Siamangs don’t have the finger dexterity or the intelligence to master the anthills, advanced tool use seems beyond them. So they see the Great Apes working the hills and then pester the gentle giants for a lick of the stick. I’ve been observing them for over four years now and they still haven’t worked it out for themselves. 

They are like children compared to the Orangutans. They often want whatever the Orangutans have and sometimes resort to hair pulling, screaming and pinching to try and get their way. For the most part it’s harmless but occasionally they take it too far and the Alpha Orangutan, a gentle giant called Clyde, will sit on one of them and hold him to the ground in a sort of pacifying time out. He could rip the thing limb from limb or throw it out of the enclosure completely but he never does, instead he just holds them down, like a hospital worker subduing a maniac having a fit in the psych ward. After a while he lets them go and they climb to the highest point of safety and partake of a long session of comfort grooming.

Yesterday, with the heat, all the Orangutans were not in a sharing mood. The keeper threw in the lunchtime feed, lettuce heads, carrots and fruit and then tried to pass out the popsicles to just the orange hairy denizens of landscaped cage. The Orangutans knew the routine and they fanned out into space, away and above the Siamangs, holding out their arms to the keepers like football receivers finding free space. The Siamangs ignored their food and of course only wanted the red ice the Orangutans had gotten.

The keeper came out of the cage and explained that the Siamangs weren’t being excluded; it was more a case that they never eat the popsicles and only act like they want them. This didn't seem exactly true and for about ten minutes the Siamangs wanted nothing more than the fruit flavored ice and tried everything to get them out of the hands of the Orangutans. At a couple of points they came close to getting swatted off the high bars. The orange apes sucked on their big wedges of frozen fruit with fat lipped glee and the ungainly Siamangs begged and danced around them like devils, trying to steal them out of their hands. On two occasions they came to blows, the Siamangs lashing out in frustration and receiving lazy smacks around the chops in return.

In one corner, near the glass, the two year old Orangutan sucked on its popsicle with serious intent. It’s the smallest of the Orangutans but still three times the size of the Siamangs. It was left alone for quite a while but you could see what was going to happen. Over our shoulder the keeper explained that the Orangutan primarily being accosted by the Siamangs was the female that was most likely to share her frozen fruit flow with them, the softest touch in the cage. But as she wasn’t for sharing they spied the baby and one of them cautiously left the swing bars to stilt walk over to her to attempt to get her treat. The baby turned its back on the Siamang as it approached and the gibbon feinted to the left but rolled to the right and snatched the popsicle out of the young Orangutan’s hand.

It was kind of tragic; candy stolen from a baby. The youngster loped after the Siamang but the beast kept just out of reach and climbed high into the branches of the climbing frame, taking the high ground and eventually reclining in a small rope hammock. The youngster had to content herself with eating the bits of ice that fell onto the ground from the Siamang and the rest of her family.

‘The Orangutans are so much nicer to the Siamangs than they deserve,’ said the keeper over my shoulder as a large group of spectators cooed over the mugging.

A young boy then told the keeper he’d seen a monkey eating another monkey’s poo in another exhibit around the corner. The boy spoke to the keeper as if telling tales on a classmate. The keeper explained that it was OK.

‘It’s natural behavior; they will often search another animal’s excretion for undigested food. It's a survival technique. They don’t need to do it here since we feed them all a perfectly balanced diet but it’s something they would do in the wild...’

         Later we saw Rutgar Hauer pee on some carrots and then eat them slowly, pleasurably, as if marinating them in this way was his preferred method of preparation. Rutgar Hauer the Polar Bear not Rutgar Hauer the actor. Halfway through his meal of urine carrots he walked over to the mesh hole in the wall and sniffed deeply of the children watching him on the other side. With a nostril full of human child he returned to his carrots, his giant silver head shining in the sun.