Biology Reference
In-Depth Information
amounts, they have sex in excitement before sharing it. Sally preferred eating together rather than
simply following bonobos with binoculars and cameras, which to her felt aggressive, as if we had
come there just to take something.
“It's better to draw them to us,” she said. “I've noticed that the demeanor of the people who
are in the forest changes how close the bonobos come, and how long they stay with us. They love
seeing humans share the way they do.”
There was faint hooting in the canopy, flurries of movement as the bonobos moved closer to
find out what we were eating and how we were passing the food around.
A bonobo stood on two legs and, holding a branch above it for balance, turned its broad head to
stare down, its posture evoking that of a tightrope walker paused, contemplating the world below.
Then it reached higher into the foliage, stretching the sinews of its long body before it lifted itself
out of sight.
After we finished eating, we watched the silhouettes move off along the canopy, leaping at
times. One used its body weight to make the branch it was on sway closer to a branch of the next
tree, before it grabbed hold and crossed over. Léonard told us that the bonobos most often traveled
on the forest floor; crossing from tree to tree required too much effort.
He again directed his trackers quickly, with slight gestures. Even as we spread out, he led us
through the undergrowth, off the path now, pausing to break branches and place leaves so that, in
case one of us wandered off with a tracker to take photos, the tracker could read the signs and we
could all meet up again.
I'd bought my poncho online, assuming its soft waterproof material made from recycled plastic
would be ideal for use in the rainforest. But I immediately saw its flaw. Unlike the smooth plastic
ponchos that the others wore, mine caught every thorn in its weave. As I peeled briars away, wire-
thin vines snared my boots and torso, and occasionally I had to stop and untangle myself as if from
a net.
Alan pointed out a caterpillar with long white whiskers and a black head, a four-tuft Mohawk
of black and white bristles on its back, and I wondered which of the more exotic butterflies this one
became. It was the most spectacular caterpillar I'd ever seen.
Léonard warned me that it probably stung, that the prettier they were the more likely they were
to be dangerous. He motioned us farther through the forest, the occasional rotten log compressing
like a sponge beneath my boot.
Though slow to reveal themselves, the bonobos began to make more appearances, peeking
down through the foliage with curious eyes, red lips vivid in their black faces. They had the taut,
muscular arms of athletes, and their bodies were particularly graceful. As they studied us, they
curled their long fingers around branches and tree trunks. We crept through the foliage, trying to see
them more closely.
The large infant I'd noticed earlier hung for a while in an opening in the branches, eyes laugh-
ing, clearly entertained. He was suspended with his potbelly protruding as he examined us: strange
creatures, our faces lifted. He glanced around with fascination, then disappeared into the foliage,
and moments later an adult male swung to a nearby tree, one hand holding the trunk. He watched
with the same curious and pleased air as the infant, lowering his eyebrows and pushing his lips for-
ward, then faintly, sweetly simpering, as if unable to decide what face to show us. The black hair on
his chest and the insides of his arms was thinner than that on his head and back, and his large pale
testicles and thin pink penis showed between his thighs.
