Dec 13
Chimp tracking was definitely a trip highlight, and will probably be one of the most exhilarating, terrifying, incredible things I will ever do in my life. The manic excitement of chimp tracking was a totally different experience when compared to the quiet serenity of gorilla tracking, but equally rewarding; given that both excursions involved spending time with primates, it’s hard to imagine two more different adventures.
We visited Kyambura (Chambura) Gorge, a 100-m wide and 16km long stretch of land on the eastern side of the park, which is home to 24 chimpanzees. We met our Orwell-quoting philosopher/tracker/ranger/guide, Bernard, who hopped in our van and showed us the route down the track to where we’d be entering the gorge. On our hike down into the gorge, he explained a few things about tracking, showed us some hyena prints, and helped to identify a few different bird and primate calls. While walking through forest so humid I could see my breath despite the heat, some rustling off to the right revealed the presence of a large male baboon on the move and in a hurry. Seeing a baboon in the darkness of the forest seemed both surreal and spooky all at the same time. A few minutes later, we met two men carrying an axe and some sort of other wooden tool, and he explained that their job is to create bridges for humans so that if the chimps decide to cross the river, then the trackers can follow – a detail that I hadn’t thought about when we crossed the wooden suspension bridge.
**This post has just been interrupted by the arrival of two buffalo, one of whom is known around the camp as being “stubborn” (read as “dangerous”), so necessitated a little evacuation from my table, and then an elephant came to visit the canteen’s water pump, which sent me fleeing indoors.
The two men confirmed what we thought we’d just heard: the chimps were in the opposite direction to the way we’d walked, so we quickly changed direction, just as the most incredibly bone-chilling cry began to ring through the trees. Sounded like we were about to have a close encounter. Within 30 minutes of entering the gorge, we’d found them. Bernard explained that they were in a tree that produces a fruit containing alcohol, so they’d sit there having breakfast until they were drunk. As the number of chimps grew from four to at least ten, they became increasingly restless and began moving from treet to tree, branch to branch. It became clear that they were going to come down to the ground, and within 15 minutes, they did, and that’s when all hell broke loose. As soon as they touched the ground, the chimps were off and running – and they move FAST.
Bernard was exceptionally good at what he does; he knew that the males who’d descended hadn’t gone far, but, had it not been for him, we would never have found them again because they were so hard to spot in the dense undergrowth. There were a few minutes of peace and then the screaming started as Njojo, a black-faced young male, got in trouble for picking on his younger brother. What followed was a series of shrieks, hoots, and cries that seemed to fill the entire forest around us for several minutes as Njojo got his comeuppance and each chimp weighed in with their two cents.
The group calmed down and settled back into a peaceful cluster of shapes and shadows around us. When Maji came near, Bernard started explaining that he was a “stubborn” (again, read as “dangerous”) male and, after a few moments of finger pointing in his direction, Maji decided he’d had enough. He came running at Bernard and slapped him hard on the thigh, leaving a scratch and a bruise, as we’d discover later. “They’re drunk!” Bernard exclaimed, while he laughed and shrugged helplessly. His next comment about all of the other guides being bitten by Maji was a little unnerving…
We spent awhile following these impressively powerful beasts through the undergrowth until a few of them settled down. Brutus, the patriarch, sat quietly while Maji groomed him and another chimp clung to a tree above their heads, while yet another sat off to our right and several others loitered behind us. I took several photos of the grooming session and then, without warning, Maji jumped up and charged at me, standing fully upright. Bernard and I stood side by side while he muttered, “Do no look at him. Do not run away.”
I kind of wish I had run away because what followed was my first beating by a chimp. In a complete blur of black hair and greenery, Maji swung his burly frame around the narrow tree trunks and vines, coming within inches of me. I thought that might be all that would happen and that it was just a close call, except that nanoseconds later I was being thumped on the small of the back by two exceptionally strong hands. Bernard checked that I was okay (I was unnerved, but otherwise fine) while laughing. “He’s drunk!” Bernard explained with a smile and that same helpless shrug.
Towards the end of our time with the family, Maji settled onto a fallen tree and several others were nearby. I knelt to take a few more photos of him, since he was in such a serene setting, and once again, apparently made myself vulnerable for an attack. This time, he charged and hit me twice on the thigh with his foot and hand, hard enough to send my body lurching one way and my sunglasses flying the other. Rich’s face was nearly white; while the kick and slap had hurt enough that I thought I’d end up with some bruising from this one, it was clear that the attack was scarier to witness than to be involved in. There was so much happening around me while Maji ran at me that I didn’t have time to process how it all looked. All I know is that I’m grateful that he didn’t use his teeth.
Bernard explained that he’d once known another male who behaved in a similar way within the family and ended up being killed because he tried to take control of the family before it was time. He thinks that it’s unlikely that Maji will survive much longer because “he’s too stubborn” (read: aggressive). While I can’t claim any particular fondness for a chimp that appears bent on my destruction, I was saddened to hear of the likely outcome of his behaviour.
We chuckled about the good fortune we’d had with our sighting and the ridiculousness of being attacked by a chimp, and spent another little while watching some of the youngest members of the family before it was time to take our leave of the group. We had a short, easy climb out of the gorge and, 2.5 hrs after it all started, it was over. We’d had an unbelievable morning with creatures that are 98.76% genetically similar to us, in a place where sightings – particularly ground sightings – are not even close to being guaranteed. I felt a little shell-shocked, a little exhilarated, and a lot sweaty. :)
Grateful for: thick jeans to protect against uncut fingernails
