The Entity Known as Tim Curry

That's a bit of an place to pickup again after long delay, isn't it? You see, I'd been spending a bit more time with Tim Curry's group (TC), and as time wore on, it became almost half the time that I was with them, one way or another. They're a bizarre little group, but let me introduce a few of the key players.

• Tim Curry, but of course. I talked a bit about him in the past, but he has one of the longest and most dignified known histories of any of the baboons in the forest. He is distinguished by his limp, many scars, and being really damn old.
• Cyrus. The current alpha male. Quite Aaron-like in his demeanor, but probably a couple years younger.
• Xerxes. The tyrant upstart male of the troop. He's quite new, and no one seems to like him, except me, and I would only say that I don't mind him. Male baboons will be male baboons.
• Clio. The highest ranking female. A raging and angry bitch of a female baboon. As those dominant females so often tend to be. She doesn't have all that much to be proud of, the troop is less than a dozen adults in total.
• Terpsichore. Probably the oldest female in the group, possibly the lowest ranking, but definitely the largest. She's a regular behemoth. She looks very similar to Hilda and Midi of the main group, neither of whom I've discussed at great length, which reminds me...

Yes, other than Mr. Curry, whose name defies the measurement of time, all of the adult baboons are given Greek names which have Herodotus' Inquiries in common. But I'm sure we all knew that, so let's just keep moving. You'll hear of the other members of the troop a few posts down the line.

The history of this group is shrouded in mystery and shadows. Before I spent any significant measure of time with these misfits, there was an ancient female among them, far older than Terpsichore. She vanished one day, according to our colleague who regularly visited TC, and was never seen again. As an aged female, her permanent disappearance was marked down to natural causes.

When I began appearing regularly on the scene, Xerxes had just joined the little troop, and had yet to be accepted by the rest of the group. Honestly, he's yet to reach a level of full acceptance on my watch. Maybe the guy really was too much of an asshole to everyone else for his own good. Cyrus had been with the group some time, probably as alpha for most of that, thus the infants and juveniles were likely almost all his. He could afford to get most of the females with so few to worry about.

Terpsichore and Tim seemed to have a thing going on, so that the two of them would consort whenever she swelled in estrous. Tim probably kept control of the deceased old lady who I never met, too. Tim might have occasionally copulated with the lower ranked females. That left 2 or 3 for Tim, and 4 or 5 for Cyrus. Respectable numbers, until Xerxes appeared on the scene.

Since then, everything has been in flux. Cyrus' dominance has been eroding, and looks like it will continue to erode, and the consortship assortments between males and female more and more appear to be completely out the window.

Tim's role in the new male triumvirate was unclear to me. Many civilians said that the troop would go nowhere without him, in spite of his comparatively low position in the male hierarchy. They were mistaken, or at least they were some of the time.

One time in particular, Timmy found his way up into a tree while foraging, as if he were reliving his juvenile years. He apparently found some tasty stuff to munch (the other working theory, which would explain much of Tim's behavior, is that he is no longer quite right in the head), since he remained up there for almost half an hour. This gave the rest of the troop time to move out of sight, cresting a low but steep embankment. Minutes later, we heard a wahoo from further back in the forest and second later we saw Tim limp-running towards us, to the climb the embankment and rejoin the troop at the outskirts. Or rather, in the words of Rainer, Timmy's reaction: "hey guys I was lying here for a few minutes and you all disappeared where are you wahoo."

Tim might just be another old male, only tenuously holding any grip whatsoever on the command of the troop. He's an odd fellow, that one, perhaps the oldest baboon in the area, or at least the one who shows his age far and way more than any other. Tim's eccentricities are just the icing on the cake for this troop because when it comes down to it, they are crazy and weird. Makes for some decent stories, at least.

News(pecies)

Some breaking news for once. Whenever I get some fascinating new primate news coming my way, there's always an associated paper, and I always feel the need to read the paper before I say anything about the findings. It turns out that the papers can take a while to read, usually because I am compelled to look back into the references, and well, time just tends to go by.

This time, I have decided not to read the paper, and merely relay the basic facts. Someone discovered a new species of monkey. That's sort of a big deal.

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A new species of monkey with unusual upturned nostrils has been discovered in north eastern Myanmar.

Scientists surveying in the area initially identified the so-called snub-nosed monkey from skin and skulls obtained from local hunters. A small population was found separated from the habitat of other species of snub-nosed monkeys by the Mekong and Salween rivers. The total population has been estimated at just 260-330 individuals.

Note: the picture, taken from the BBC story, is a computer reconstruction, not an actual photo.

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Perhaps next, I will discuss the once newsworthy item of chimpanzee behavioral genetics. Its bound to happen eventually, given that the study is everything I ever wanted in the world, but maybe I should pick it up sooner rather than later?

Nowhere to Run

Seven months of daily exposure hasn't been enough to acclimate me to the surprise of a female baboon screaming from the bottom of her lungs. Aged Afrikaans nature lovers who have been walking among these trees for close to half a century still think some human is trapping or hunting the baboons when they hear a run of the mill female scream.  Sometimes I think that a few of my colleagues have their limbic systems under control in this respect, but then again, who is to say they are just more stoic than I?

As always, I wasn't present for the beginning of this turgid affair, or, if I was, the spark was subtle enough to escape my perception. Noticing things is hard when you're surrounded by sixty baboons for hours on end, and there are all these juveniles bouncing around the slopes and rooftops of a rural school.

As previously alluded, there were screams. Yet, these screams sounded like nothing I'd heard before, even from these baboons. Perhaps the oddest part was that the screams just kept going. I ignored them at first, as I had tended to do once the novelty of female baboon at their worst wore off. But then four or more different voices chime in, and they just keep going, it becomes something one I, for one, cannot restrain myself from seeking out. It helps if a few wahoo's are thrown into the mix, for a little extra primal flair, though often the most interesting fights are those that the males have no part in, and seemingly want no part in.

The cacophony became too much, and I strode in the direction of the conflict, neither jogging nor running. Still the wailing continued. I rounded the corner of the building and spotted the mess. A few dekameters from where I now stood, Mariam hung from a roof top ledge, alternately hanging onto the gutter by her nails with one arm, and clasping her infant to her for good measure. Above her, roaring and shaking their coats in exhileration were both Aaron and Damian.

The two males, volumes infalted by hairs standing on end, both leaned over the edge of the building and swatted at Mariam. Its never clear to me when the males really mean it when it comes to those swipes. I've seen Aaron press a female out onto a thin tree branch, three stories in height, and then let her go free without a visible scratch, and then I've seen him chase a female till she was so exhausted and torn up, she could only croak out her complaints. He bounded along behind her showing no sign of giving her a break from whatever heretical transgression she perpetratesd against his authority.

Anyhow, I'd never seen two males take aim at the same female (two males between which the tension grows ever more palpable). What would the low-ranking mother of an infant do to rouse the ire of two separate male authorities? What could a low-ranking mother do, for that matter. If only I'd seen the beginning, or rather, if only baboonists had a good method for knowing when something was about to begin.

Mariam continued to howl, perhaps in pain, perhaps in terror, maybe just as an instinct which might attract some defenders or push away her attackers. Her wailing continued for quite a while after I came to the scene. The only change was abrupt, and played out quite lucky for her.

At seemingly great personal risk to herself and her baby, Mariam let herself hang by one arm and slowly, surprisingly calmly, reached out her other arm towards the pipe into which the gutter emptied. It ran down the wall of the building, and was a bit more than a meter from where she clung. Once she'd reached as far as she could, she let go with her other arm, and almost gracefully swung over to the pipe.

Speedily, she shimmied down the pipe with the infant and bolted. Taking a few moments to realize what had just transpired, literally under their noses, Aaron and Damian looked around for means of pursuit. One of them followed down the pipe, the other bounded along the roof out of sight, to find another route. Don't ask me which did which.

I tried to follow Mariam, then one of the males, but when they're moving at full tilt through semi-urbanized areas, its like trying to keep up with Spiderman in a chase scene. The climax had passed, anyhow, Mariam had won herself a reprieve from the torments of the males for a brief time. That's to say nothing of the guff she'd get from the females throughout the rest of the day, though.

My paper log has returned. Now if I could find a minute to read it.

These are two of my favorite things

...nor do I allow this blog to become an interior clone of Cute Overload or Zooborns. But, exceptions can, and must be made. And its the weekend.

I don't know much about Long-tailed macaques, but it does seem quite unusual for a male monkey to be so attached to a "child." I'd rather not taint this precious moment with ethological analysis, at least this time. Go look at the rest of the pictures.

Oh, and this one:

Next time, baboons for reals.

Fake Genetics

I try not to let this blog deteriorate into place I would splatter with arbitrary links, but this one is deserving, particularly because of the conversation it provokes. Also, its a bloody Friday afternoon.

Rare Breeds Petunias has a straight forward premise and approach: take a random assortment of petunias, and start breeding a colony of them. You can simulate n generations of petunias, and their traits will be passed on based on legit genetic models. Its simpler than breeding for petunia traits in the real world, for sure. Its also a flash game.

So, I've managed to develop RSI, a condition which, when conjoined with the fact that my journal is still absent, makes it extremely challenging for me to be able to recount myriads of hilarious monkey hijinx. However, the journal will be resurfacing very soon (one can't get these things out of order...), and with the aid of the modern science of ergonomics, my hands are doing much better. In the meantime, there's not much at all I can do, which in short, is a real pain... But I think I have one or two plays secreted away for special occasions.

Drunken Monkey Stance

Drunk baboons plague Cape Town's exclusive suburbs

The sun is setting over South Africa's oldest vineyard and the last of the wine-tasting tourists are climbing onto their buses. But one large family group has no intention of leaving – and there is little the management can do about it.

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First, a few notes about this article:

• I've been to Groot Constantia many times, sometimes for leisure, and sometimes in search of the baboons in question.
• Never seen them intoxicated, though.
• I believe that the photographer who took the pictures was one who I met out in the field. If I'm correct, he chose a good day; the baboons were having a great deal of fun around a pond.
• I had no idea Nelson Mandela lived in Constantia. I have a feeling that means he has one house, of many, in that suburb. I was under the impression that he spent most of his time in and around Guateng. Maybe not these days, since he's originally from Eastern Cape.
• I can't say I've heard of anyone mentioned by name in the article, except Justin O'Raian. That said, I've never met him (nor anyone else in the story).

Anyway, have a read. Its from a British news source, not a South African one, but most of the story appears to be based on personal accounts and I have no idea what manner of fact checking took place. The harvest season was months ago, though, and there haven't been any grapes on the vines since then. Hardly constitutes news.

A Bit of Humor

I was once an avid reader of Fuck You, Penguin, but that blog faded into the ether for me a number of years ago. Now he has a bloody book! It took a particular post like this being sent my way to recapture my attention of a brief moment.

Honestly, it might be this picture that I found to be the most captivating aspect of the post. The photo manages to capture the silliness of monkey behavior via the stick in the mouth, as well as the sleekness of the animal in its seemingly perfectly groomed coat. And the eyes. Always the eyes. They've got that perfect intensity I've gotten so used to seeing among the males of my troops.

The mandrill was once thought to be a type of baboon; categorized under the same genus: papio. In more recent years, the mandrill and the drill have been given their own genus, but they're still recognized as being close relatives of the baboons, and if you ask me, the resemblance is clear in spite of the vibrant color differences.

...plus you know, the shots that the author takes at the mandrill are also quite amusing.

日本霊長類学会

As a rule, I try to avoid primate-human interaction affairs if it is at all possible. Posting interesting stories about how monkeys or apes get along with humans is a different tale entirely.

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When chimpanzees attack humans: Loss of habitat may lead to increased conflict

ScienceDaily (2010-08-11) -- Scientists from Japan, studying chimpanzees in Guinea, have published research revealing why nonhuman primates attack humans and what preventive measures can be taken. The study suggests that while rare, attacks by primates on humans may increase as wild habitat is increasingly converted for agriculture. ... > read full article

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Given that the International Primatology Society's (IPS) annual meeting is being held next month in Kyoto, I thought I could use this opportunity to say a few things about the unique Japanese school of Primatology. Unfortunately, I've never met a true Japanese primatologist in real life. However, I've been to Japan, and have spent a number of years studying the Japanese language and culture on the side.

I was a bit surprised when I first learned that Japanese Primatology involves establishing a very personal connection with one's subject. To quote wikipedia,

 "Japanese primatology is a carefully disciplined subjective science. It is believed that the best data comes through identification with your subject. Neutrality is eschewed in favour of a more casual atmosphere, where researcher and subject can mingle more freely. Domestication of nature is not only desirable, but necessary for study."

Definitely not how the Euro-American schools of primatology go about it, at least in my experience. This, after all, is the kind of thing that can get you into Dian Fossey degrees of trouble. Or so we're often lead to believe.

I occasionally check the faculty, staff, and students in the Japanese primatology programs, and while they are composed almost exclusively of Japanese, there is usually an odd European student or two. I've known people to go abroad and live among the Japanese for years on end, but what would it be like to be in the boonies of Africa with a Japanese research team? I don't think I've ever seen one of the Japanese teams advertise on the Primate Job List. Its another bold new frontier in the world of Primatology that few would consider, and fewer are given an opportunity to experience. Unless you're Japanese, of course.

The Odd One Out

There is an epilogue to the tale of Trish and the curse that hangs over her. A few weeks after her child died, things were mostly back to normal for her. Trish had always been a pudgy baboon, which made us all think she was a month overdue on her child when she was pregnant. In one brief moment, I even thought she had become pregnant again. The my senses took hold. So she went about her fat, low ranking business, getting pushed around and having relatively little support. She's not particularly remarkable except for being overweight and having defective breasts.

She became quite remarkable when one day, I was standing by one of the standard paths, trying to collect a bit of data, when Trish waddles by, carrying an infant on her back. It was a brown and gray infant, with not a trace of black hair remaining. Its legs straddled Trish's tail, its upper body lay flattened against her back, and the tiny arms clutched down at her flanks. This is the second most popular infant riding position, and once they get too big for a ventral mount (as this one very much was), this is just about all that their mothers will still allow.

The infant offered an occasional grunt, but I coudn't quite place the vocalization. It almost seemed as if it were complaining or in mild distress. Trish looked up at me as she passed with he infant, and quickened her pace to be rid of me. I was too shocked to follow. What the hell was this about?

This scene repeated herself for all of us several times, and left us all equally baffled. This infant clearly wasn't hers. It was only a year or so old, too young for us not to have seen her with it previously. So who's baby did Trish decided to adopt, or perhaps, who's baby decided to adopt Trish? And which mother was okay with her young infant pulling this kind of stunt?

At first, the running belief was that the infant was Punzle's, who was adventurous enough to perhaps make up for how bitchy Punzle tends to be. This theory was disproven when Trish trotted by with infant astraddle, and Hilda following not more than a few paces (baboon paces, not human). The scene played out with the infant hopping off Hilda for a brief suckle before returning to Trish.

I'm happy that of all the females, this has happened to Trish. Maybe it is precisely because of who she is and what she goes through that she seeks out surrogates so effectively. There are stories of females who go about it quite poorly: they effectively steal a baby from a lower ranking female and carry it around treating it as their own, except the infant usually can't suckle, and eventually dies. A bad business for everyone involved.

Trish is too low ranked for such disrespectful behavior. That doesn't explain why Hilda, one of the highest ranking females in the troop, is okay with this. It occurred to me that since she is one of the older females in the troop, Trish might be one of her own children. If this were the case, Trish ought not to be so low ranking herself, given baboons' matrilineal patterns of inheritance. Perhaps a granddaughter? That would make the ranking discrepancy less of an issue, but Hilda doesn't seem that old.

Wishy washy as it may seem, maybe Hilda is old and secure in her rnaking and motherhood habits, and is wise enough to see that Trish is not a threat, in moderation. The child is at least a year old, and Hilda's still keeping an eye on things. Its good for her, too, since she has to deal with the little brat less than if Trish hadn't been appointed baby-sitter. So it makes decent sense from a anthropomorphic standpoint, for whatever that is worth.

It seems like a small consolation for Trish, and its unclear if she's actually enriching the troop through this behavior. Yet, all of the three involved seem to be satisfied with the arrangement. Far from me to tell baboons what to do.

Monkeys aren't donkeys

But, its a moot point, since gorillas aren't monkeys. What am I blabbering about, you may say? Well, Molly sent me a highly amusing link about apes from Gizmodo of all places.

Real Life Donkey Kong Playing With His Nintendo DS
"Donkey Kong plays Donkey Kong while Donkey Kong Jr. watches. OK, maybe he's not playing DK, but it's just as good. The story involves a kid, a couple of real gorillas at the San Francisco Zoo and a happy ending."

Go read the story, watch the movie, and look at the pictures. Pretty great stuff. I just keep finding more and more little things that make me like Gizmodo.

There's more interesting stuff to be said about the baboons. I have a coda for the woeful tale of Trish in the works, but then I went and of all things, injured my wrist, so I'm trying to keep my keyboard strain to a minimum. But if I had nothing but gorillas and video games news to read about, I'd be happy.