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From: Brad on 02/11/98
. "Animals Are My Hobby" by Gertrude Davies Lintz. (Condensed and adapted.)
When I first laid eyes on Buddy, he was a pitiful little handful of skin and hair in a grocer's carton, and dying of pneumonia. For days I forgot sleep and mealtimes, thinking only of saving this tiny gorilla whom I had named after "Buddha." My husband Bill, a physician, diagnosed the pneumonia as double and the chances of survival slim. Most of the time Buddy, tiny and frail, was unconscious. Though no gorilla had ever survived in captivity, it was my firm belief that I was the one woman in the world who could love a gorilla enough to make it well.
His condition was not surprising, for these very sensitive babies must suffer a great emotional shock from capture and separation from their families. Then there is the long six weeks' voyage from Africa without fresh food, and the sudden change to a cold climate and completely new conditions. I will never forget the fine day when I woke to the sounds of Buddy stirring and I came to look, for the first time, into his beautiful, sensitive dark eyes.
We had succeeded in keeping him alive, and now we would face the unusual task of raising a gorilla. Now the fun could begin! No one could tell me how to raise a gorilla as none had actually succeeded in doing so. I had no information as to what they eat, how they groom themselves, when their mothers wean them, or what their play is like. So I followed my own best instincts, raising Buddy as I had my chimps, the same as I would a human child.
In the beginning I had to chew every piece of food first before Buddy would have anything to do with it, something that Emma, our loyal cook and housekeeper, simply did not have the patience for. I also quickly learned that Buddy did not like water, and so we had daily sponge baths instead. In those early days he would cling to me and not let go, and if he did let go, he never let me out of his sight.
As Buddy grew, he quickly became a part of my ape family. That's Joe Mendi playing the harmonica. You may have seen him on his vaudeville tours. Perhaps I should explain that the tune he's playing is "Turkey in the Straw." Our Joe is not too fussy about hitting the notes, but he's a tyrant with his tailor. Maggie Klein, shown here in one of her favorite pink dresses, is a vaudeville star too, and often very sly at letting herself and the others out of their playpens at night.
I taught Buddy, as with all of my apes, to dress himself, walk upright, and eat with utensils. This was not a stunt. I found that when they were clean and dressed, they were under better control and proud of themselves. At first Buddy resisted clothes, but gradually he became accustomed to them. While he never actually wore my dresses, he loved the feel of them in his hands, especially the red ones. Sometimes when I was away he would raid my closets and drape my dresses around himself.
Buddy was always extremely delicate and precise in using his hands. At a young age he became aware of the trophy room walls covered with photographs of our champion St. Bernards. Having met the dogs in person, Buddy seemed uncomfortable with their size. He seemed dead set against any dog symbols.
One day I found that he had taken down all of the dog trophies and photographs and piled them neatly in a corner of the trophy room. I was astonished to find that not a piece of glass was broken. I tried replacing the pictures higher on the wall, but again Buddy found a way to take them down.
Buddy also became helpful with household chores, which he loved to perform. He did such a perfect job of scrubbing the kitchen floor that I have sometimes wondered whether gorillas have a future as domestic servants. Buddy also loved to serve food both at the family dinner table and when we had guests. In my opinion, no animals should be trained by fear of physical punishment. That is not training, for it ruins the animal just as it does a child. Apes are far more nervous and sensitive than children and I found that a single stern word was often enough to put Buddy in tears. Keeping discipline with Buddy and my ape colony depended on a positive rather than a negative approach, which I and my loyal assistant, D-ick, faithfully and lovingly practiced.
Occasionally chaos would break out, and in these cases it was neither D-ick nor I that maintained control, but the Bogeyman. I owned a strange and mysterious native doll-head rattle, about the size of a man's fist, which was mounted on a stick. It had a dark-brown face with a mouth twisted in an ugly snarl and a mop of wool hair. As apes are the most suggestible creatures on earth, and they fall for even ham acting, my act in introducing the Bogeyman left nothing to the imagination.
My body would shrink and shiver from the devil as if it were a python. My voice would choke and tremble with fear. In no time I could enter a room where mischief or a fight was in progress. I would lay the Bogeyman on the floor and retreat from it, gibbering in fear. Instantly all would stop what they were doing and run frantically for cover under blankets and rugs and in cupboards. The family became so thoroughly conditioned that merely saying, "Here comes the Bogeyman," was enough.
For his own safety as much as the safety of others, Buddy eventually had to spend most of his time in his cage. These were the times I would question my own judgment in trying to adapt him to a world he could not truly live in. In the afternoons I would come to his cage to comb him and rub coconut oil into his great mane to make it shine, something that always made him so proud. In tender moments like these, tears would come to my eyes because I knew that Buddy could neither return to his own world nor live completely in the one I had tried to create for him. Buddy would gently brush his fingertip along my face, taking a tear onto his finger and placing his finger in his own mouth.
Most animals will avoid meeting the human eye for long. But Buddy seemed to know that if he looked into my eyes he could get through to me, read my feelings, and, if he wanted something, improve his chances of getting it. He knew that even as a baby. But as he grew older he had things to tell me which none of us can express in words: affection, longing, grief, or peaceful communion.He would look into my eyes, as if he were trying to make me understand what he really was inside his great uncouth body. We human beings know that we can outstare any animal. But I confess that when Buddy looked into my eyes with his steadfast, searching, and profoundly moving gaze, I would be the one to turn my eyes away.
After years of close companionship with my apes, it is natural for me to accept their unusual status in the scheme of things, as betwixt and between the animal and human worlds.Their desperate efforts to learn, the fatigue and discouragement that follow failure, then the renewal of courage. Why were they working so hard, and what were they trying to do? It seemed clear to me that they were trying to bridge the gulf from animal to man. They were trying to change themselves and become something different. With a deep and almost tragic desperation, and with a will that is not in other animals, they were striving. Most animals battle their way, but they do not strive. Only man and creatures like him make an effort of will in order to transform themselves into something higher.
Though the gorilla has a hard time adjusting to civilization, I am tempted to think that this is perhaps more a matter of temperament and tastes than of adaptability in the physical sense. My experience has taught me many things we all know. The first and the last of them is that animals, wild or tame, are so eloquent in their need of our protection and love that often they remind us of our failure to love each other enough.
And so perhaps we should give up asking "What is Gorilla?" and instead ask him "What is Man?" If his ancient wisdom could speak, he might answer like this: "Man is a creature impossible to understand. He enjoys too little the simple things that come every day: food and sun and companionship, sleep and noonday leisure. He makes too many things, he even makes machines to kill. When Gorilla must fight, he first sends the females and young to safety. When Man fights, his machines destroy the females and young first of all. I fear that Man has now reached a very bad pass, for he is destroying the jungle in which we all must live, and the young who should live after us. Gorilla uses his strength only to keep the peace. When the enemy comes to his feeding ground to destroy him, he goes up to that foolish one, and breaks his weapon in his hands."
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From: Graham on 03/11/00
I em looking for a monkey that has a great persinality and will be ok in a menhattan appartmenet
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From: Audra on 01/08/01
Can you direct me as to where i can purchase a copy of this book?
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From: Paul on 11/19/01Hi everybody
A Friend told me of a monkey the size of a mans fist!!!
I got curious and need more informations about that Monkey!!!
Is this Monkey somehow available or is it just a fictional story I heard of my friends???
I do not hope so because I would love to have one like them!!!
Can you please help me gathering some Informations about that Animal???
Please E-Mail me !!!!
Thank You
Paul
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From: kristina on 12/31/01
hi i love monkeys TO THE ERTH
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