The Red Apes of Sabah

Posted on 18. Mar, 2009 by Kerry Banks in International

“They’re around here somewhere. You better get your camera ready,” says Roland. We have stopped in a clearing in the Borneo rainforest. The droning of cicadas fills the sticky, tropical air, but I can’t see any signs of animal life. Sweating hard, I dutifully haul out my camera and stare at the trees. I am beginning to have doubts about my jovial Malaysian guide. Then, as if on cue, two hairy, reddish-orange creatures emerge from the undergrowth. They give us the once-over and start shuffling forward on their knuckles, slowly at first, then faster as curiosity overcomes their initial shyness.

“It’s Gus and Jippo,” says Roland, identifying the pair of young orangutans, who converge at our feet and begin fingering our trousers and shoes. I start taking pictures and they grow bolder. Gus, who sports a fuzzy Don King hairdo, deftly slides open the zipper on my camera bag and reaches inside. “Hey, get out of there,” I yell, waving my arms. Gus retreats a few paces and flashes me a guilty look. It is quickly replaced by another more devious expression. He springs forward, intent on making off with the entire kit. I grab my bag and instant before he does and a tug of war ensues. Gus suddenly lets go. I tumble backward and Roland bursts into laughter. Thirty seconds into my first encounter with an orangutan and I feel like the straight man in some slapstick comedy routine.

Gus and Jippo are residents of the Sepilok Forest Reserve in Malaysian state of Sabah in northeastern Borneo. Sepilok is a research centre and wildlife sanctuary where orphaned and displaced orangutans are rehabilitated and eventually returned to their natural habitat. Most of the orangutans at Sepilok are abandoned babies whose mothers were either killed or chased off by logging crews. Others have been confiscated from black marketers who sell the animals as pets. The apes arrive in sad shape–many are malnourished, some have been beaten or kept on chains. After receiving medical aid and spending some time in quarantine to ensure that they carry no communicable diseases, they are free to come and go as they please. The oranges usually stay in the vicinity of the two feeding stations near park headquarters, where they are offered fruit and milk twice a day. Only the very young are kept in cages at night, primarily to protect them from hungry pythons.

Since these apes were separated from their mothers at an early age, they have had no opportunity to learn the skills needed to survive in the wild. At Sepilok, they are encouraged to follow the more experienced animals into the forest. Those who are reluctant to leave camp are carried piggyback by game rangers and left to find the way home. Gradually by imitation and discovery, they learn self-sufficiency and can be released in other parts of the country to boost declining wild populations.

The work is vital, as orangutans are an endangered species. Once abundant from China to Java, the red apes are now restricted to diminishing ranges on the islands of Borneo and Sumatra. Poaching, logging and land-clearing have reduced their numbers to about 20,000. Unless the wholesale destruction of their rainforest habitat is curtailed, reserves like Sepilok may eventually become the orangutans’ lone hedge against extinction.

This would be a terrible tragedy, especially considering that scientists are only beginning to fully grasp the capabilities of these arboreal apes. According to recent research by the psychologist Robert Deaner, orangutans are the world’s most intelligent animal other than humans, with higher learning and problem solving ability than chimpanzees, which were previously considered to have greater abilities. A study of orangutans by Carel van Schaik, a Dutch primatologist at Duke University, found them capable of tasks well beyond chimpanzees’ abilities—such as using leaves to make rain hats and leak-proof roofs over their sleeping nests. He also found that, in some food-rich areas, the creatures had developed a complex culture in which adults would teach youngsters how to make tools and find food.

Sepilok is more than just a rehabilitation centre for orangutans. The 43-square kilometre forest reserve is also home to proboscis monkeys, gibbons, macaques, langurs, barking deer, bearded pigs, pangolins, Malaysian sun bears and more than 200 species of birds. But the red apes are clearly the major attraction. Each year, 90,000 visitors come to the rehabilitation centre, as I have, to view the orangs in their natural habitat. Eventually, we leave Gus and Jippo and proceed to the nearest feeding station, where we find a half-dozen other young apes scattered about like toddlers at a playground. Roland takes me around, making introductions. He knows them as individuals, each with its own distinct character. Noreen is even-tempered and passive. Bob, on the other hand, is something of a juvenile delinquent. He delights in sneaking up behind female tourists and flipping up their skirts. Psychologically scarred by some early trauma, he can’t bear to be touched.

One-year-old Melissa is Roland’s favourite. He spots her in a tree at the far side of the creek and clucks softly to her in Malay, “Come Melissa. Come.” She clambers down a vine and across a large log that spans the water. At the log’s end, like a countess debarking from a cruise ship, she demurely extends one hand to Roland, who takes it and swings her up into his arms. “Do you want to hold her?” he asks, and I eagerly exchange my camera for 10 kilograms of orangutan. It is her gentleness that I notice first. Despite her considerable strength, Melissa’s touch is velvety soft. She has tiny fingernails and a warm, bristly-haired body. Black eyelashes frame dark, knowing eyes. She begins licking the salty perspiration from my arm and I am instantly charmed.

While leaving the sanctuary, I pass a couple of German women who have fallen under Melissa’s spell. They stand transfixed in the clearing, cooing and cradling the baby ape in their arms. The two tourists are so taken by their tiny new friend that they are oblivious to the skulking presence of Bob, approaching from their rear. Moments later, heading down the trail, I hear a startled shriek. The incorrigible skirt-flipper has struck again.

Photo Credits:

#1: ifonly.net

#2: dailymail.uk.co

#3: solcomhouse.com

#4: sciencedaily.com

Tags: Borneo, Orangutans, Sustainability