I consider us very fortunate to care for a large number of what are essentially wild primates. These include descendants of the original troop of snow monkeys who came to Texas from Japan in 1972. Over the years, they have adapted well to the south Texas climate and reside in very large enclosures—the largest of which is 56 acres—filled with native vegetation. Today, they live their lives in a state of relative freedom similar to their wild relatives in Japan. They are comfortable in their spacious homes because they don’t feel caged, and they are very tolerant of us as we go about the business of providing them food and checking their water supplies. Other than seeing to their basic needs, they don’t need us.[teaserbreak]
This is equally true of the rhesus troop who arrived from the bankrupt Wild Animal Orphanage in 2012. These 10 rhesus macaques behave as if they have absolutely no need for us, nor do they show any desire to be friendly at all. They run and gather in the trees when caretakers approach, and they stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed at us with apparent suspicion whenever we have to perform enclosure maintenance, like changing out a faucet or trimming trees.
Though we provide them with heat and shelter in the winter, they usually can be found outside in the very tops of the trees, swaying gently back and forth in the morning chill. They live their lives on their own terms and within their own social spaces.
For those of us who dedicate our daily lives to the hands-on care of these wonderful animals, you might think their nonchalance, “un-neediness,” or even disdain would bother us—at least a little—but that’s not the case at all. There’s a very special feeling watching formerly captive animals, now unencumbered by humans, go about their lives seemingly oblivious to our presence. It’s humbling and exhilarating at the same time, and staff members consider it a treat when scheduled to care for the “wild” ones.
Chongo, McKenzie, Mongo, and the many other individuals rescued from tragic circumstances will continue to receive personalized, professional care each day with a focus on improving their quality of life. Though they cannot be set free and are socially ill-equipped to join our larger groups in the open enclosures, their lives are important.
The “wild” ones are no less valued for their independence. Their presence here among the mesquite trees of south Texas is a testament to their intelligence and adaptability: a reminder of the wildness present in every monkey.
For the primates,
Tim
P.S. We often ask you to help with urgent needs, like medical care and special diets for the residents who require intense care, but all of the residents need your help—whether they are the ones constantly under our careful watch or ones who happily live a more independent life. Will you please make a contribution and help us provide exactly the kind of care that every individual needs and wants?