Primates – be they apes, monkeys, or lemurs – are easily
among the most popular of zoo animals.
They also pose some of the greatest challenges to a zookeeper. Part of it is that they are very intelligent
and dexterous and agile, all of which lends to them being able to get into all
sorts of trouble. The aspect of their
biology which has always caused me the most anxiety, however, is their social
nature.
With few exceptions, primates are highly social beings. Even some species which were previously
thought to be very solitary, such as orangutans, are now suspected of being far
more sociable than we thought before.
Even the less social species, when placed in a controlled environment
with abundant food and resources, tend to loosen up and become friendlier. For other species, such as mandrill, groups
numbering in the hundreds have been reported in the wild. When you hear things like that, seeing the
dozens of macaques in Monkey Jungle’s crab-eating macaque colony makes a lot of
sense, to the point where you start to wish more zoos would manage their
monkeys on that scale.
About that…
“Social” does not, unfortunately, always equal “peaceable.” Bigger troops lead to bigger conflicts, which
is less of a problem in the wild where monkeys and apes can either get away
from each other by leaving the group… or just die (which goes against the ethos
of the zookeepers). Managing primates in
a zoo isn’t just about managing individuals – it’s about keeping on top of the
whole soap opera drama of the group and knowing who is standing where in
relation to who. That is often
established with fighting and chasing and other, subtler bullying. When carrying for primates at one zoo, it
seemed that every day the daily report was just a laundry list of who did what
to who. When I would come back from my
days off, I felt like a kindergarten teacher who was getting a report from her
exasperated substitute, who was full of gossip of how badly the kids had been
misbehaving over the last few days.
There isn’t just drama within a group, there’s drama between
groups. Gibbons and howler monkeys spend
lots of time yelling at each other (or at other groups) to establish
territories. It could be cool to have
two exhibits of a species, located at either end of a zoo, able to hear but not
see each other. Each morning, the
gibbons could hoot and holler at each other, confirming that everyone is going
to stay in their own territory. When the
Bronx Zoo opened its massive Ethiopian Highlands, home to baboon-like geladas
and other species, the thought was that it would originally house two troops of
the large African primates. For a while,
it did, following careful introductions, keeping to separate territories. Then, to the surprise of zoo staff, some
geladas from Troop “A” and Troop “B” got together and formed Troop “C,”
establishing their own territory.
It can be challenging
to do anything that benefits everyone equally.
Suppose you provide your chimpanzees with some awesome enrichment – the dominant
animals may love it, and therefore monopolize it. The bottom-ranking chimps, seeing something
that they would love to play with but can’t use for fear of the big guys, may
become very stressed. Whatever resources you provide – food, toys, sleeping
sites – you have to keep in mind that no one is going to be inclined to share
evenly.
It sometimes seems like the only thing worse than being in a
social primate setting, is putting one alone.
I’ve met some primates, even of the most social species, who
– as individuals – just hated everyone and liked to be alone. That’s fair enough – some people hate
everyone and want to be left alone.
Other times, however, when a primate is isolated for any reason – say,
it’s sick and has to go to the zoo’s hospital – it can become very upset,
sometimes even refusing to eat and getting sick. In these cases, a buddy might be brought with
them to keep them company. And this isn’t even counting the drama that removing
an individual from a group can cause, especially if it’s a dominant animal and
leaves a power vacuum.
Some zoos have even begun to rethink the concept of
quarantining new primates into their zoos, provided they are coming from a
known source, such as another accredited zoo, with a known health history. The thinking is that whatever possible health
benefit might be gleaned from thirty days of observation is outweighed by the
stress of isolation. Better to just get
that animal integrated into its social unit as quickly as possible.
I’m going to leave you with one more anecdote that I really
think sums up the primate social network better than anything. A zoo had a large troop of baboons, when one
of them – the dominant male – died unexpectedly. There was no heir apparent, and the rest of
the troop began fighting and squabbling and generally being awful to each
other. Unable to stop the fighting, the
zoo had a novel solution – they added a pair of chimps to the enclosure. Immediately, the baboons stopped. They were all united in their suspicion and
fear of these mysterious, alien new beings and spent all day cautiously
watching the chimps. All inter-troop
conflict was put on hold. Eventually,
they all seemed to forget what the fuss was about. The chimps were removed (no one was harmed
during this experiment), a new leader assumed dominance of the baboon troop,
and everyone lived happily ever after…
Until the next petty squabble…
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