We
cautiously poke our heads around a small bramble thicket. At
first, I don't see anything as my eyes struggle to adjust to the leaf-filtered
light. Yes! There he is--our first gorilla, like a giant mound of black
fuzz, lounging and eating in the sun. As we excitedly watch, that young
300 pound male throws back his head and yawns, examines us, lumbers out
of his bed of leaves, then returns to the more serious task of eating.
Tiring of that, he turns, walking on knuckles to within a single breathtaking
foot of us.
Is he going to rip my arms off as easily as he'd stripped
the branches off that bamboo tree? I instantly glance down, assuming the
non-aggressive posture Pascale taught us.
However, the adolescent
male doesn't seem upset by our presence and ambles into a clering not thirty
feet away.
Slowly,
yet deliberately, we follow, cautious not to make any sudden or threatening
moves that may alarm him. We step into the small cove of trees where two
female gorillas lay sleeping like children in the grass. Not ten feet away,
in the shadows of a gnarled overhanging tree, stands the colossal silverback
himself!
He towers
over six feet tall, as broad as a refrigerator. Ebony, except
for a metallic mane of shaggy hair running across his back, he sizes us
up, as he measures our intentions for a moment. Then turning, he
moves back into the shadows of the alcove. We feel his eyes still riveted
on us, as each wonders what to do next. Yet nothing happens.
He doesn’t charge. The others don’t run.
So after a
few moments, we circle his shaded chamber for a better vantagepoint from
the other side. Rounding the thickly draped alcove, we discover three
young male gorillas playing and sleeping in the covered entrance.
Just to the left, several feet away, a shaggy older male grazes on leaves,
while another brilliantly coated male lay behind him dozing in the streaked
sunlight.We've struck it rich, having stumbled onto the entire family
of eleven.
But where, I wonder, where are the
illusive mother and newborn baby?
For
thirty minutes we kneel in the tall grass, watching and photographing the
family in their lair as they eat, play or sleep in the sun, while they
seem almost blase´ about our presence. That’s most surprising. Spotting
us, we expect them to take off deep into the mountainous undergrowth, like
chimps or baboons might in the wild.
Feeling foolishly brave, I cautiously
inch closer and closer to catch a portrait of one solitary brooding male
at arm's length. Angry at first, he finally relaxes and frolics in the
sun. I’m touched by his measured glances filled with such curiosity and
intelligence.
Does he wonder why these odd beings
take photos of him? Why their type arrives every few days?
All at once there’s a sharp, frantic
rustling in the bushes behind him. Branches inexplicably snap, while his
companions shoot furtive looks. We’re just six feet from the family and
before we can retreat to safety, something approaches from the thicket.
It’s the young mother gorilla with tousle-headed baby bravely clinging
to her hairy chest with walnut-sized hands!
At first the madonna is shy. She
sits quietly, munching leaves behind the protective young males.
Then
after the goliath silverback reappears, assured of her safety, she crosses
to within just three feet in front of me, plunking down beside him. As
she sits there, curiously eyeing us and stripping the leaves from trees,
her tiny fuzzyheaded tyke climbs off her chest and half swaggers, half
crawls toward me.
At this, the mother quickly scrambles
over and snatches the curious infant back. Not to have her romp curtailed,
the baby climbs down again.
Tottering back and forth, tiny feet
tramping through the tall grass, she finally pauses just inches away. Then
curiously, the pop-eyed, 18 inch high, thistle haired imp stretches out
her tiny hand toward me.
"I don't believe this!" I sigh, as
she caresses my beard and lips with her slender black finger.
However, Mom doesn't appreciate her
curiosity. Grunting a low, menacing "HUH," she quickly snatches her adventurous
toddler back. Then there’s a similar grunt and grumble of "HUH, HUH, HUHs"
from the males encircling us.
But it’s just a warning. They mean
us no harm. Still, overwhelmed by the entire experience, it seems best
to give them their peace.
We’re surprised to discover we've
been with those docile giants for over an hour and a half that passed like
mere minutes.
Hiking back down the hill to camp,
I think how tragic it is those wonderful creatures are nearly extinct thanks
to mans' carnage–and how much our very survival is ultimately reflected
by their own.
The following are Brandon's previous
articles for the magazine:
We
cautiously poke our heads around a small bramble thicket. At
first, I don't see anything as my eyes struggle to adjust to the leaf-filtered
light. Yes! There he is--our first gorilla, like a giant mound of black
fuzz, lounging and eating in the sun. As we excitedly watch, that young
300 pound male throws back his head and yawns, examines us, lumbers out
of his bed of leaves, then returns to the more serious task of eating.
Tiring of that, he turns, walking on knuckles to within a single breathtaking
foot of us.
Is he going to rip my arms off as easily as he'd stripped
the branches off that bamboo tree? I instantly glance down, assuming the
non-aggressive posture Pascale taught us.
