17-May-2007

They are called Squirrel Monkeys according to the plaque next to the exhibit, and you would regret having them for a pet the sign warns. Behind the glass Squirrel Monkeys jump from limb to limb, actively playing and searching for food. The monkeys and the primate house in general are always one of the best exhibits at the Philadelphia Zoo. It must be a season for babies, because among all the pregnant women walking around at the zoo, and the young couples pushing strollers, mother Squirrel Monkeys carry their young on their backs as they carefully maneuver from limb to limb. The other young that are old enough to be separate from mom rapidly move from limb to limb, playfully chasing each other, and using each others long tails to swing from.

“Aww they are so cute” everyone says as we watch with growing fascination. They are tiny little creatures, with mostly grey bodies, yellowish arms, and adorable little white faces. As I stand there watching, a zoo volunteer pulls out a compact mirror from her pocket and holds it to the glass. Her name is Dorothy, according to her nametag, a zoo volunteer, and while holding up the mirror, one of the wild young comes over to check it out. Immediately the monkey is looking at himself in the mirror and a crowd gathers around to listen to Dorothy talk about the primates at the zoo. I listen to her voice, a little shaky given her age, (she must be seventy or so), but soothing, and I become entranced watching the monkeys and listening to Dorothy tell us things about life at the zoo that are not to be found on any exhibit plaque.

I must have been so engrossed in listening to the soft hum of her voice, and then imagining my own stories while staring at the lively group of monkeys, that I didn’t realize the crowd had dispersed and Dorothy was gone. I walked around the rest of the primate house, checking out the orangutans, and looking at the silverback gorillas thinking of the Gorilla’s in the Mist, waiting to here Sigourney Weaver’s voice. Instantly, I am in a misty jungle in my mind, but I can’t even remember what that movie was about, or what was so significant or controversial.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot Dorothy again, in her green shirt and tan vest and pants, the kind you might wear on Safari. She is so cute, I think to myself, and I wonder how often she volunteers, is she lonely, did her husband die, does she have grandchildren, and do her grandchildren listen to her when she talks? With each question I fire at her about the gorillas, I am imagining several more about her in my mind. “The female gorilla is coddling her young boy” she says. “She is so overprotective, you know female’s nurse for four or five years.” Wow, I think to myself, that sounds painful. I ask how long gorillas live, and listen and think as she tells me about the history of the Philadelphia Zoo’s gorillas. The male silverback is outside, but anxiously trying to get back in, pacing back in forth. “He hates it out there, he is scared,” she tells me “the male silverback grew up in a confined space before arriving at the zoo, and he’s unsettled outside.” Inside, the mother and her young son stay up on a platform. Dorothy explains that the mother and son are new to the zoo and kept in a separate area from the silverback. “They need to get used to each other’s smell, it takes a long time to integrate them.”

“Oh yes, we once had a female that came to the zoo after growing up in a man’s apartment, he even dressed her in clothes and fed her at the table.” “Really”, my eyes widen, I love this stuff, I travel to an imaginary Philadelphia apartment where a strange man has dressed the female in a bonnet, and feeds her cookies as she drinks from tea cups. “Yes, sadly she wouldn’t interact with the others, she just couldn’t relate.” Apparently they tried to bring in a handsome, virile silverback from another zoo, but she wouldn’t have any apart of him. Aww, she missed her strange apartment man. “Eventually she was transferred to another place.” I wonder what that means; where in the world would a bonnet wearing, tea cup drinking gorilla fit in?