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on the heap of fruit, hurriedly stuffing it
into their mouths like overexcited children
at a birthday party. It’s soon obviouswhich
one is the dominant male, as he takes up
a position on the platform and begins to
repel all others by cuffing themaround the
head as they approach the food, sending
them crashing into the undergrowth. He
ignores the orang-utan, who has now
joined him and is lazily stretching out
one hand to snag some bananas while
holding on to the rope above his head
with the other.
Two more orang-utans have now ar-
rived. Like the first they show little interest
in the rapidly disappearing pile of food – a
sign that they are at last able to fend for
themselves in the wild. Meanwhile the
monkeys are putting on an act worthy of
a boy band, screeching non-stop. They’re
playing to the crowd and the visitors
clearly love it.
Orang-utans share some 97% of their
DNA with us, so it’s tempting to ascribe
human feelings to them. Their vaguely
human proportions and the way they
move, shambling along hunched over
like ageing hippies, make this easy to
do. The monkeys may have had all the
attention so far, but the man of the forest
has faced much bigger challenges in his
life and today he has a surprise up his
woolly sleeve.
Having eaten all they can manage, the
monkeys have disappeared back into the
jungle along with two of the orang-utans,
and the third is now slowly exiting the
scene via a rope which passes almost
directly over the heads of the visitors
gathered at the far end of the viewing
area. He pauses at the point nearest
to his audience and dozens of hands
clutching mobile phones and cameras
rise up to take advantage of this brilliant
photo opportunity. After hanging like an
over-ripe fruit for several moments while
the paparazzi snap away, he takes hold
of the rope once more and turns to face
outwards. This time he arranges his limbs
on either side of his trunk in an impossibly
double-jointed pose, looking for all the
world like a shaggy jumper pegged out on
a washing line to dry, before tiring of the
game and resuming his progress towards
the trees.
TRUMP CARD
The monkeys are now all but forgotten,
their antics paling in comparison to the
trump card played by the orang-utan. The
animated buzz of the visitors’ conversation
slowly fades as they leave the viewing
area, heading for the exit. In the silence
of the empty clearing the figure of the
orang-utan, a smudge of russet among
the endless green, gradually shrinks to
a pinpoint and is swallowed up by the
jungle, while the rope continues to ripple
gently for a fewmoments before subsiding
to a quiver and lying still once more.