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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 1
Gombe
I ROLL E D O V E R and looked at the time--5.44 a.m. Long years of early rising have led to an ability to wake just before the unpleasant clamour of an alarm clock. Soon I was sitting on the steps of my house looking out over Lake Tanganyika. The waning moon, in her last quarter, was suspended above the horizon, where the mountainous shoreline of Zaire fringed Lake Tanganyika. It was a still night, and the moon's path danced and sparkled towards me across the gently moving water. My breakfast--a banana and a cup of coffee from the thermos flask--was soon finished and, ten minutes later I was climbing the steep slope behind the house, my miniature binoculars and camera stuffed into my pockets along with notebook, pencil stubs, a handful of raisins for my lunch, and plastic bags in which to put everything should it rain. The faint light from the moon, shinning on the dew-laden grass, enabled me to find my way without difficulty and presently I arrived at the place where, the evening before, I had watched eighteen chimpanzees settle down for the night. I sat to wait until they woke.
All around, the trees were still shrouded with the last mysteries of the night's dreaming. It was very quiet, utterly peaceful. The only sounds were the occasional chirp of a cricket, and the soft murmur where the lake caressed the shingle, way below. As I sat there I felt the expectant thrill that, for me, always precedes a day with the chimpanzees, a day roaming the forests and mountains of Gombe, a day for new discoveries, new insights.
Then came a sudden burst of song, the duet of a pair of robin chats, hauntingly beautiful. I realized that the intensity of light had changed: dawn had crept upon me unawares. The coming brightness of the sun had all but vanquished the silvery, indefinite illumination of its own radiance reflected by the moon. The chimpanzees still slept.
Five minutes later came a rustling of leaves above. I looked up and saw branches moving against the lightening sky. That was where Goblin, top-ranking male of the community, had made his nest. Then stillness again. He must have turned over, then settled down for a last snooze. Soon after this there was movement from another nest to my right, then from one behind me, further up the slope. Rustlings of leaves, the cracking of a little twig. The group was waking up. Peering through my binoculars into the tree where Fifi had made a nest for herself and her infant Flossi, I saw the silhouette of her foot. A moment later Fanni, her eight-year-old daughter, climbed up from her nest nearby and sat just above her mother, a small dark shape against the sky. Fifi's other two offspring, adult Freud and adolescent Frodo, had nested further up the slope.
Nine minutes after he had first moved, Goblin abruptly sat up and, almost at once, left his nest and began to leap wildly through the tree, vigorously swaying the branches. Instant pandemonium broke out. The chimpanzees closest to Goblin left their nests and rushed out of his way. Others sat up to watch, tense and ready for flight. The early morning peace was shattered by frenzied grunts and screams as Goblin's subordinates voiced their respect or fear. A few moments later, the arboreal part of his display over, Goblin leapt down and charged past me, slapping and stamping on the wet ground, rearing up and shaking the vegetation, picking up and hurling a rock, an old piece of wood, another rock. Then he sat, hair bristling, some fifteen feet away. He was breathing heavily. My own heart was beating fast. As he swung down, I had stood up and held onto a tree, praying that he would not pound on me as he sometimes does. But, to my relief, he had ignored me, and I sat down again.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 2
With soft, panting grunts Goblin's young brother Gimble climbed~ down and came to greet the alpha or top-ranking male, touching his face with his lips. Then, as another adult male approached Goblin, for Gimble moved hastily out of the way. This was my old friend Evered.
As he approached, with loud, submissive grunts, Goblin slowly raised one arm in salutation and Evered rushed forward. The two males embraced, grinning widely in the excitement of this morning reunion so that their teeth flashed white in the semi-darkness. For a few moments they groomed each other and then? calmed, Evered moved away and sat quietly nearby.
The only other adult who climbed down then was Fifi, with Flossi clinging to her belly. She avoided Goblin, but approached Evered, grunting softly, reached out her hand and touched his arm. Then she began to groom him. Flossi climbed into Evered's lap and looked up into his face. He glanced at her, groomed her head intently for a few moments, then turned to reciprocate Fifi's attentions. Flossi moved half-way towards where Goblin sat--but his hair was still bristling, and she thought better of it and, instead, climbed a tree near she began to play with Fanni, her sister.
Once again peace returned to the morning, though not the silence of dawn. Up in the trees the other chimpanzees of the group were moving about, getting ready for the new day. Some began to feed, and I heard the occasional soft thud as skins and seeds of figs were dropped to the ground. I sat, utterly content to be back at Gombe after an unusually long time away--almost three months of lectures, meetings, and lobbying in the USA and Europe. This would be my first day with the chimps and I planned to enjoy it to the full, just getting reacquainted with my old friends, taking pictures, getting my climbing legs back.
It was Evered who led off, thirty minutes later, twice pausing and looking back to make sure that Goblin was coming too. Fifi followed, Flossi perched on her back like a small jockey, Fanni close behind. Now the other chimps climbed down and wandered after us. Freud and Frodo, adult males Atlas and Beethoven, the magnificent adolescent Wilkie, and two females, Patti and Kidevu, with their infants. There were others, but they were traveling higher up the slope, and
I didn't see them then. We headed north, parallel with the beach below then plunged down into Kasakela Valley and, with frequent pauses for feeding, made our way up the opposite slope. The eastern sky grew bright, but not until 8.30 a.m. did the sun itself finally peep over the peaks of the rift escarpment. By this time we were high above the lake. The chimpanzees stopped and groomed for a while, enjoying the warmth of the morning sunshine.
About twenty minutes later there was a sudden outbreak of chimpanzee calls ahead--a mixture of pant-hoots, as we call the loud distance calls, and screams. I could hear the distinctive voice of the large, sterile female Gigi among a medley of females and youngsters. Goblin and Evered stopped grooming and all the chimps stared towards the sounds. Then, with Goblin now in the lead, most of the group moved off in that direction.
Fifi, however, stayed behind and continued to groom Fanni while Flossi played by herself, dangling from a low branch near her mother and elder sister. I decided to stay too, delighted that Frodo had moved on with the others for he so often pesters me. He wants me to play, and, because I will not, he becomes aggressive. At twelve years of age he is much stronger than I am, and this behavior is dangerous. Once he stamped so hard on my head that my neck was nearly broken. And on another occasion he pushed me down a steep slope. I can only hope that, as he matures and leaves childhood behind him, he will grow out of these irritating habits.
I spent the rest of the morning wandering peacefully with Fifi and~ her daughters, moving from one food tree to the next. The chimps fed I on several different kinds of fruit and once on some young shoots. For I about forty-five minutes they pulled apart the leaves of low shrubs I which had been rolled into tubes held closely by sticky threads, then munched on the caterpillars that wriggled inside. Once we passed another female--Gremlin and her new infant, little Galahad. Fanni and Flossi ran over to greet them, but Fifi barely glanced in their direction.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 3
All the time we were climbing higher and higher. Presently, on an open grassy ridge we came upon another small group of chimps: the adult male Prof, his young brother Pax, and two rather shy females with their infants. They were feeding on the leaves of a massive mbula tree. There were a few quiet grunts of greeting as Fifi and her youngsters joined the group, then they also began to feed. Presently the others moved on, Fanni with them. But Fifi made herself a nest and stretched out for a midday siesta. Flossi stayed too, climbing about, swinging, amusing herself near her mother. And then she joined Fifi in her nest, lay close and suckled.
From where I sat, below Fifi, I could look out over the Kasakela Valley. Opposite, to the south, was the Peak. A surge of warm memories flooded through me as I saw it, a rounded shoulder perched above the long grassy ridge that separates Kasakela from the home valley Kakombe. In the early days of the study at Gombe, in 1960 and 1961, I had spent day after day watching the chimpanzees, through my binoculars, from the superb vantage point. I had taken a little tin trunk up to the Peak, with a kettle, some coffee and sugar, and a blanket. Sometimes, when the chimps had slept nearby, I had stayed up there with them, wrapped in my blanket against the chill of the night air. Gradually I had pieced together something of their daily life, learned about their feeding habits and travel routes, and begun to understand their unique social structure--small groups joining to form larger ones, large groups splitting into smaller ones, single chimpanzees roaming, for a while, on their own.
From the Peak I had seen, for the first time, a chimpanzee eating meat: David Greybeard. I had watched him leap up into a tree clutching the carcass of an infant bushpig, which he shared with a female while the adult pigs charged about below. And only about a hundred yards from the Peak, on a never-to-be-forgotten day in October, I960, I had watched David Greybeard, along with his close friend Goliath, fishing for termites with stems of grass. Thinking back to that far-off time I relived the thrill I had felt when I saw David reach out, pick a wide blade of grass and trim it carefully so that it could more easily be poked into the narrow passage in the termite mound. Not only was he using the grass as a tool--he was, by modifying it to suit a special purpose, actually showing the crude beginnings of tool-making. What excited telegrams I had sent off to Louis Leakey, that far-sighted genius who had instigated the research at Gombe. Humans were not, after all, the only tool-making animals. Nor were chimpanzees the placid vegetarians that people had supposed.
That was just after my mother, Vanne, had left to return to her other responsibilities in England. During her four-month stay she had made an invaluable contribution to the success of the project: she had set up a clinic--four poles and a thatched roof--where she had provided medicines to the local people, mostly fishermen and their families. Although her remedies had been simple--aspirin, Epsom salts, iodine, Band-Aids and so on--her concern and patience had been unlimited, and her cures often worked. Much later we learned that many people had thought that she possessed magic powers for healing. Thus she had secured for me the goodwill of the local human population.
Above me, Fifi stirred, cradling little Flossi more comfortably as she suckled. Then her eyes closed again. The infant nursed for a few more minutes, then the nipple slipped from her mouth as she too slept. I continued to daydream, reliving in my mind some of the more memorable events of the past.
Brad and Trouble
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 4
I remembered the day when David Greybeard had first visited my camp by the lakeshore. He had come to feed on the ripe fruits of an oil-nut palm that grew there, spied some bananas on the table outside my tent, and taken them off to eat in the bush. Once he had discovered bananas he had returned for more and gradually other chimpanzees had followed him to my camp.
One of the females who became a regular visitor in 1963 was Fifi's mother, old Flo of the ragged ears and bulbous nose. What an exciting day when, after five years of maternal preoccupation with her infant daughter, Flo had become sexually attractive again. Flaunting her shell-pink sexual swelling she had attracted a whole retinue of suitors. Many of them had never been to camp, but they had followed Flo there, sexual passions overriding natural caution. And, once they had discovered bananas, they had joined the rapidly growing group of regular camp visitors. And so I had become more and more familiar with the whole host of unforgettable chimpanzee characters who are described in my first book, In the Shadow of Man.
Fifi, lying so peacefully above me now, was one of the few survivors of those early days. She had been an infant when first I knew her in 1961. She had weathered the terrible polio epidemic that had swept through the population chimpanzee and human alike in 1966. Ten of the chimpanzees of the study group had died or vanished. Another five had been crippled, including her eldest brother, Faben, who had lost the use of one arm.
At the time of that epidemic the Gombe Stream Research Centre was in its infancy. The first two research assistants were helping to collect and type out notes on chimp behavior. Some twenty-five chimpanzees were regularly visiting camp by then, and so there had been more than enough work for all of us. After watching the chimps all day we had often transcribed notes from our tape recorders until late at night.
My mother Vanne had made two other visits to Gombe during the sixties. One of those had been when the National Geographic Society sent Hugo van Lawick to film the study--which, by then, they were financing. Louis Leakey had wangled Vanne's fare and expenses, insisting that it would not be right for me to be alone in the bush with a young man. How different the moral standards of a quarter of a century ago! Hugo and I had married anyway, and Vanne's third visit, in 1967, had been to share with me, for a couple of months, the task of raising my son, Grub (his real name is Hugo Eric Louis) in the bush.
There was a slight movement from Fifi's nest and I saw that she had turned and was looking down at me. What was she thinking? How much of the past did she remember? Did she ever think of her old mother, Flo? Had she followed the desperate struggle of her brother, Figan, to rise to the top-ranking, alpha position? Had she even been aware of the grim years when the males of her community, often led by Figan, had waged a sort of primitive war against their neighbors, assaulting them, one after the other, with shocking brutality? Had she known about the gruesome cannibalistic attacks made by Passion and her adult daughter Pom on newborn infants of the community?
Again my attention was jerked back to the present, this time by the sound of a chimpanzee crying. I smiled. That would be Fanni. She had reached the adventurous age when a young female often moves away from her mother to travel with the adults. Then, suddenly, she wants mother desperately, leaves the group, and sets off to search for her. The crying grew louder and soon Fanni came into sight. Fifi paid no attention, but Flossi jumped out of the nest and scrambled down to embrace her elder sister. And Fanni, finding Fifi where she had left her, stopped her childish crying.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 5
Clearly Fifi had been waiting for Fanni--now she climbed down and set off, and the children, followed after, playing as they went. The family moved rapidly down the steep slope to the south. As I scrambled after them, every branch seemed to catch in my hair or my shirt. Frantically I crawled and wriggled through a terrible tangle of undergrowth. Ahead of me the chimpanzees, fluid black shadows, moved effortlessly. The distance between us increased. The vines curled around the buckles of my shoes and the strap of my camera, the thorns caught in the flesh of my arms, my eyes smarted till the tears flowed as I yanked my hair from the snags that reached out from all around. After ten minutes I was drenched in sweat, my shirt was torn, my knees bruised from crawling on the stony ground and the chimps had vanished. I kept quite still, trying to listen above the pounding of my heart, peering in all directions through the thicket around me. But I heard nothing.
For the next thirty-five minutes I wandered along the rocky bed of the Kasakela Stream, pausing to listen, to scan the branches above me.. I passed below a troop of red colobus monkeys, leaping through the tree tops, uttering their strange, high-pitched, twittering calls. I encountered some baboons of D troop, including old Fred with his one blind eye and the double kink in his tail. And then, as I was wondering where to go next, I heard the scream of a young chimp further up the valley. Ten minutes later I had joined Gremlin with little Galahad, Gigi and two of Gombe's youngest and most recent orphans, Mel and Darbee, both of whom had lost their mothers when they were only just over three years old. Gigi, as she so often does these days, ‘auntying' them both. They were all feeding in a tall tree above the almost dry stream and I stretched out on the rocks to watch them. During my scramble after Fifi the sun had vanished, and now, as I looked up through the canopy, I could see the sky, grey and heavy with rain. With a growing darkness came the stillness, the hush, that so often precedes hard rain. Only the rumbling of the thunder, moving ever closer, broke this stillness; the thunder and the rustling movements of the chimpanzees.
When the rain began Galahad, who had been dangling and patting at his toes near his mother, quickly climbed to the shelter of her arms. And the two orphans hurried to sit, close together, near Gigi. But Gimble started leaping about in the tree tops, swinging vigorously from one branch to the next, climbing up then jumping down to catch himself on a bough below. As the rain got heavier, as more and more drops found their way through the dense canopy, so his leaps became wilder and ever more daring, his swaying of the branches more vigorous. This behavior would, when he was older, express itself in the magnificent rain display, or rain dance, of the adult male.
Suddenly, just after three o'clock, heralded by a blinding flash of lightning and a thunderclap that shook the mountains and growled on and on, bouncing from peak to peak, the grey-black clouds let loose such torrential rain that sky and earth seemed joined by moving water. Gimble stopped playing then, and he, like the others, sat hunched and still, close to the trunk of the tree. I pressed myself against a palm, sheltering as best I could under its overhanging fronds. As the rain poured down endlessly I got colder and colder. Soon, turned in upon myself, I lost all track of time. I was no longer recording--there was nothing to record except silent, patient and uncomplaining endurance.
It must have taken about an hour before the rain began to ease off as the heart of the storm swept away to the south. At 4.30 the chimps climbed down, and moved off through the soaked, dripping vegetation. I followed, walking awkwardly, my wet clothes hindering movement. We traveled along the stream bed then up the other side of the valley, heading south. Presently we arrived on a grassy ridge over looking the lake. A pale, watery sun had appeared and its light caught the raindrops so that the world seemed hung with diamonds, sparkling on every leaf, every blade of grass. I crouched low to avoid destroying a jeweled spider's web that stretched, exquisite and fragile, across the trail.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 7
The Mind of the Chimpanzee
OFTEN I HAVE GAZED into a chimpanzee's eyes and wondered what was going on behind them. I used to look into Flo's, she so old, so wise. What did she remember of her young days? David Greybeard had the most beautiful eyes of them all, large and lustrous, set wide apart. They somehow expressed his whole personality, his serene self-assurance, his inherent dignity--and, from time to time, his utter determination to get his way. For a long time I never liked to look a chimpanzee straight in the eye--I assumed that, as is the case with most primates, this would be interpreted as a threat or at least as a breach of good manners. Not so. As long as one looks with gentleness, without arrogance, a chimpanzee will understand, and may even return the look. And then--or such. is my fantasy--it is as though the eyes are windows into the mind. Only the glass is opaque so that the mystery can never be fully revealed.
I shall never forget my meeting with Lucy, an eight-year-old home-raised chimpanzee. She came and sat beside me on the sofa and, with her face very close to mine, searched in my eyes--for what? Perhaps she was looking for signs of mistrust, dislike, or fear, since many people must have been somewhat disconcerted when, for the first time, they came face to face with a grown chimpanzee. Whatever Lucy read in my eyes clearly satisfied her for she suddenly put one arm round my neck and gave me a generous and very chimp-like kiss, her mouth wide open and laid over mine. I was accepted.
For a long time after that encounter I was profoundly disturbed. I had been at Gombe for about fifteen years then and I was quite familiar with chimpanzees in the wild. But Lucy, having grown up as a human child, was like a changeling, her essential chimpanzeeness overlaid by the various human behaviors she had acquired over the years. No longer purely chimp yet eons away from humanity, she was man made, some other kind of being. I watched, amazed, as she opened the refrigerator and various cupboards found bottles and a glass, then poured herself a gin and tonic. She took the drink to the TV, turned the set on, flipped from one channel to another then, as though in disgust, turned it off again. She selected a glossy magazine from the table and, still carrying her drink, settled in a comfortable chair. Occasionally, as she leafed through the magazine she identified something she saw, using the signs of ASL, the American Sign Language used by the deaf. I, of course, did not understand, but my hostess, Jane Temerlin (who was also Lucy's 'mother'), translated: 'That dog,' Lucy commented, pausing at a photo of a small white poodle. She turned the page. 'Blue,' she declared, pointing then signing as she gazed at a picture of a lady advertising some kind of soap powder and wearing a brilliant blue dress. And finally, after some vague hand movements--perhaps signed mutterings--'This Lucy's, this mine,' as she closed the magazine and laid it on her lap. She had just been taught, Jane told me, the use of the possessive pronouns during the thrice weekly ASL lessons she was receiving at the time.
The book written by Lucy's human 'father', Maury Temerlin, was entitled Lucy, Growing Up Human. And in fact, the chimpanzee is more like us than is any other living creature. There is close resemblance in the physiology of our two species and genetically, in the structure of the DNA, chimpanzees and humans differ by only just over one per cent. This is why medical research uses chimpanzees as experimental animals when they need substitutes for humans in the testing of some drug or vaccine. Chimpanzees can be infected with just about all known human infectious diseases including those, such as hepatitis B and AIDS, to which other non-human animals (except gorillas, orangutans and gibbons) are immune. There are equally striking similarities between humans and chimpanzees in the anatomy and wiring of the brain and nervous system, and--although many scientists have been reluctant to admit to this--in social behavior, intellectual ability, and the emotions. The notion of an evolutionary continuity in physical structure from pre-human ape to modern man has long been morally acceptable to most scientists. That the same might hold good for mind was generally considered an absurd hypothesis--particularly by those who used, and often misused, animals in their laboratories. It is, after all, convenient to believe that the creature you are using, while it may react in disturbingly human-like ways is, in fact, merely a mindless and, above all, unfeeling, 'dumb' animal.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 8
When I began my study at Gombe in 1960 it was not permissible--at least not in ethological circles--to talk about an animal's mind. Only humans had minds. Nor was it quite proper to talk about animal personality. Of course everyone knew that they did have their own unique characters--everyone who had ever owned a dog or other pet was aware of that. But ethologists, striving to make theirs a 'hard' science, shied away from the task of trying to explain such things objectively. One respected ethologist, while acknowledging that there was 'variability between individual animals', wrote that it was best that this fact be 'swept under the carpet'. At that time ethological carpets fairly bulged with all that was hidden beneath them.
How naive I was. As I had not had an undergraduate science education I didn't realize that animals were not supposed to have personalities, or to think, or to feel emotions or pain. I had no idea that it would have been more appropriate to assign each of the chimpanzees a number rather than a name when I got to know him or her. I didn't realize that it was not scientific to discuss behavior in terms of motivation or purpose. And no one had told me that terms such as childhood and adolescence were uniquely human phases of the life cycle, culturally determined, not to be used when referring to young chimpanzees. Not knowing, I freely made use of all those forbidden terms and concepts in my initial attempt to describe, to the best of my ability, the amazing things I had observed at Gombe.
I shall never forget the response of a group of ethologists to some remarks I made at an erudite seminar. I described how Figan, as an adolescent, had learned to stay behind in camp after senior males had left, so that we could give him a few bananas for himself. On the first occasion he had, upon seeing the fruits, uttered loud, delighted food calls: whereupon a couple of the older males had charged back, chased after Figan, and taken his bananas. And then, coming to the point of the story, I explained how, on the next occasion, Figan had actually suppressed his calls. We could hear little sounds, in his throat, but so quiet that none of the others could have heard them. Other young chimps, to whom we tried to smuggle fruit without the knowledge of their elders, never learned such self-control. With shrieks of glee they would fall to, only to be robbed of their booty when the big males charged back. I had expected my audience to be as fascinated and impressed as I was. I had hoped for an exchange of views about the chimpanzee's undoubted intelligence. Instead there was a chill silence, after which the chairman hastily changed the subject. Needless to say, after being thus snubbed, I was very reluctant to contribute any comments, at any scientific gathering, for a very long time. Looking back, I suspect that everyone was interested, but it was, of course, not permissible to present a mere 'anecdote' as evidence for anything.
The editorial comments on the first paper I wrote for publication demanded that every he or she be replaced with it, and every who be replaced with which. Incensed, I, in my turn, crossed out the its and whichs and scrawled back the original pronouns. As I had no desire to carve a niche for myself in the world of science, but simply wanted to go on living among and learning about chimpanzees, the possible reaction of the editor of the learned journal did not trouble me. In fact I won that round: the paper when finally published did confer upon the chimpanzees the dignity of their appropriate genders and properly upgraded them from the status of mere 'things' to essential Being-ness.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 9
However, despite my somewhat truculent attitude, I did want to learn, and I was sensible of my incredible good fortune in being admitted to Cambridge. I wanted to get my Ph.D., if only for the sake of Louis Leakey and the other people who had written letters in support of my admission. And how lucky I was to have, as my supervisor, Robert Hinde. Not only because I thereby benefitted from his brilliant mind and clear thinking, but also because I doubt that I could have found a teacher more suited to my particular needs and personality. Gradually he was able to cloak me with at least some of the trappings of a scientist. Thus although I continued to hold to most of my convictions--that animals had personalities; that they could feel happy or sad or fearful; that they could feel pain; that they could strive towards planned goals and achieve greater success if they were highly motivated--I soon realized that these personal convictions were, indeed, difficult to prove. It was best to be circumspect--at least until I had gained some credentials and credibility. And Robert gave me. wonderful advice on how best to tie up some of my more rebellious ideas with scientific ribbon. 'You can't know that Fifi was jealous,' he admonished on one occasion. We argued a little. And then: 'Why don't you just say If Fifi were a human' child we would say she was jealous. I did.
It is not easy to study emotions even when the subjects are human. I know how I feel if I am sad or happy or angry, and if a friend tells me that he is feeling sad, happy or angry, I assume that his feelings are similar to mine. But of course I cannot know. As we try to come to grips with the emotions of beings progressively more different from ourselves the task, obviously, becomes increasingly difficult. If we ascribe human emotions to non-human animals we are accused of being anthropomorphic--a cardinal sin in ethology. But is it so terrible? If we test the effect of drugs on chimpanzees because they are biologically so similar to ourselves, if we accept that there are dramatic similarities in chimpanzee and human brain and nervous system, is it not logical to assume that there will be similarities also in at least the more basic feelings, emotions, moods of the two species?
In fact, all those who have worked long and closely with chimpanzees have no hesitation in asserting that chimps experience emotions similar to those which in ourselves we label pleasure, joy, sorrow, anger, boredom and so on. Some of the emotional states of the chimpanzee are so obviously similar to ours that even an inexperienced observer can understand what is going on. An infant who hurls himself screaming to the ground, face contorted, hitting out with his arms at any nearby object, banging his head, is clearly having a tantrum. An other youngster, who gambols around his mother, turning somersaults, pirouetting and, every so often, rushing up to her and tumbling into her lap, patting her or pulling her hand towards him in a request for tickling, is obviously filled with joie de vivre. There are few observers who would not unhesitatingly ascribe his behavior to a happy, carefree state of well-being. And one cannot watch chimpanzee infants for long without realizing that they have the same emotional need for affection and reassurance as human children. An adult male, reclining in the shade after a good meal, reaching benignly to play with an infant or idly groom an adult female, is clearly in a good mood. When he sits with bristling hair, glaring at his subordinates and threatening them, with irritated gestures, if they come too close, he is clearly feeling cross and grumpy. We make these judgements because the similarity of so much of a chimpanzee's behavior to our own permits us to empathize.
It is hard to empathize with emotions we have not experienced. I can imagine, to some extent, the pleasure of a female chimpanzee during the act of procreation. The feelings of her male partner are beyond my knowledge--as are those of the human male in the same context. I have spent countless hours watching mother chimpanzees interacting with their infants. But not until I had an infant of my own did I begin to understand the basic, powerful instinct of mother-love. If someone accidentally did something to frighten Grub, or threaten his well-being in any way, I felt a surge of quite irrational anger. How much more easily could I then understand the feelings of the chimpanzee mother who furiously waves her arm and barks in threat at an individual who approaches her infant too closely, or at a playmate who inadvertently hurts her child. And it was not until I knew the numbing grief that gripped me after the death of my second husband that I could even begin to appreciate the despair and sense of loss that can cause young chimps to pine away and die when they lose their mothers.

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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 10
Empathy and intuition can be of tremendous value as we attempt to understand certain complex behavioral interactions, provided that the behavior, as it occurs, is recorded precisely and objectively. Fortunately I have seldom found it difficult to record facts in an orderly manner even during times of powerful emotional involvement. And 'knowing' intuitively how a chimpanzee is feeling--after an attack, for example--may help one to understand what happens next. We should not be afraid at least to try to make use of our close evolutionary relationship with the chimpanzees in our attempts to interpret complex behavior.
Today, as in Darwin's time, it is once again fashionable to speak of and study the animal mind. This change came about gradually, and was, at least in part, due to the information collected during careful studies of animal societies in the field. As these observations became widely known, it was impossible to brush aside the complexities of social behavior that were revealed in species after species. The untidy clutter under the ethological carpets was brought out and examined piece by piece. Gradually it was realized that parsimonious explanations of apparently intelligent behaviors were often misleading. This led to a succession of experiments that, taken together, clearly prove that many intellectual abilities that had been thought unique to humans were actually present, though in a less highly developed form, in other, non-human beings. Particularly, of course, in the non-human primates and especially in chimpanzees.
When first I began to read about human evolution, I learned that one of the hallmarks of our own species was that we, and only we, were capable of making tools. Man the Toolmaker was an oft-cited definition--and this despite the careful and exhaustive research of Wolfgang Kohler and Robert Yerkes on the tool-using and tool-making abilities of chimpanzees. Those studies, carried out independently in the early twenties, were received with scepticism. Yet both Kohler and Yerkes were respected scientists, and both had a profound understanding of chimpanzee behavior. Indeed, Kohler's descriptions of the personalities and behavior of the various individuals in his colony, published in his book The Mentality of Apes, remain some of the most vivid and colorful ever written. And his experiments, showing how chimpanzees could stack boxes, then climb the unstable constructions to reach fruit suspended from the ceiling, or join two short sticks to make a pole long enough to rake in fruit otherwise out of reach, have become classic, appearing in almost all textbooks dealing with intelligent behavior in non-human animals.
By the time systematic observations of tool-using came from Gombe those pioneering studies had been largely forgotten. Moreover, it was one thing to know that humanized chimpanzees in the lab could use implements: it was quite another to find that this was a naturally occurring skill in the wild. I well remember writing to Louis about my first observations, describing how David Greybeard not only used bits of straw to fish for termites but actually stripped leaves from a stem and thus made a tool. And I remember too receiving the now oft quoted telegram he sent in response to my letter: 'Now we must redefine tool, redefine Man, or accept chimpanzees as humans.'
There were, initially, a few scientists who attempted to write off the termiting observations, even suggesting that I had taught the chimps! By and large, though, people were fascinated by the information and by the subsequent observations of the other contexts in which the Gombe chimpanzees used objects as tools. And there were only a few anthropologists who objected when I suggested that the chimpanzees probably passed their tool-using traditions from one generation to the next, through observations, imitation and practice, so that each population might be expected to have its own unique tool-using culture. Which, incidentally, turns out to be quite true. And when I described how one chimpanzee, Mike, spontaneously solved a new problem by using a tool (he broke off a stick to knock a banana to the ground when he was too nervous to actually take it from my hand) I don't believe there were any raised eyebrows in the scientific community. Certainly I was not attacked viciously, as were Kohler and Yerkes, for suggesting that humans were not the only beings capable of reasoning and insight.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 11
The mid-sixties saw the start of a project that, along with other similar research, was to teach us a great deal about the chimpanzee mind. This was Project Washoe, conceived by Trixie and Allen Gardner. They purchased an infant chimpanzee and began to teach her the signs of ASL, the American Sign Language used by the deaf. Twenty years earlier another husband and wife team, Richard and Cathy and was clearly an intelligent youngster, could not learn human speech. The Gardners, however, achieved spectacular success with their pupil, Washoe. Not only did she learn signs easily, but she quickly began to string them together in meaningful ways. It was clear that each sign evoked, in her mind, a mental image of the object it represented. If, for example, she was asked, in sign language, to fetch an apple, she would go and locate an apple that was out of sight in another room.
Other chimps entered the project, some starting their lives in deaf signing families before joining Washoe. And finally Washoe adopted an infant, Loulis. He came from a lab where no thought of teaching signs had ever penetrated. When he was with Washoe he was given no lessons in language acquisition--not by humans, anyway. Yet by the time he was eight years old he had made fifty-eight signs in their correct contexts. How did he learn them? Mostly, it seems, by imitating the behavior of Washoe and the other three signing chimps, Dar, Moja and Tatu. Sometimes, though, he received tuition from Washoe herself. One day, for example, she began to swagger about bipedally, hair bristling, signing food! food! food! in great excitement. She had seen a human approaching with a bar of chocolate. Loulis, only eighteen months old, watched passively. Suddenly Washoe stopped her swaggering, went over to him, took his hand, and molded the sign for food (fingers pointing towards mouth). Another time, in a similar context, she made the sign for chewing gum--but with her hand on his body. On a third occasion Washoe, apropos of nothing picked up a small chair, took it over to Loulis, set it down in front of him, and very distinctly made the chair sign three times, watching him closely as she did so. The two food signs became incorporated into Loulis's vocabulary but the sign for chair did not. Obviously the priorities of a young chimp are similar to those of a human child!
When news of Washoe's accomplishments first hit the scientific community it immediately provoked a storm of bitter protest. It im plied that chimpanzees were capable of mastering a human language, and this, in turn, indicated mental powers of generalization, abstraction and concept-formation as well as an ability to understand and use abstract symbols. And these intellectual skills were surely the prerogatives of Homo sapiens. Although there were many who were fascinated and excited by the Gardners' findings, there were many more who denounced the whole project, holding that the data was suspect, the methodology sloppy, and the conclusions not only misleading, but quite preposterous. The controversy inspired all-sorts of other language projects. And, whether the investigators were skeptical to start with and hoped to disprove the Gardners' work, or whether they were attempting to demonstrate the same thing in a new way, their research provided additional information about the chimpanzee's mind.
And so, with new incentive, psychologists began to test the mental abilities of chimpanzees in a variety of different ways; again and again the results confirmed that their minds are uncannily like our own. It had long been held that only humans were capable of what is called 'cross-modal transfer of information'--in other words, if you shut your eyes and someone allows you to feel a strangely shaped potato, you will subsequently be able to pick it out from other differently shaped potatoes simply by looking at them. And vice versa. It turned out that chimpanzees can 'know' with their eyes what they 'feel' with their fingers in just the same way. In fact, we now know that some other non-human primates can do the same thing. I expect all kinds of creatures have the same ability.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 12
Then it was proved, experimentally and beyond doubt, that chimpanzees could recognize themselves in mirrors that they had, therefore, some kind of self-concept. In fact, Washoe, some years previously, had already demonstrated the ability when she spontaneously identified herself in the mirror, staring at her image and making her name sign. But that observation was merely anecdotal. The proof came when chimpanzees who had been allowed to play with mirrors were, while anaesthetized, dabbed with spots of odorless paint in places, such as the ears or the top of the head, that they could see only in the mirror. When they woke they were not only fascinated by their spotted images, but immediately investigated, with their fingers, the dabs of paint.
The fact that chimpanzees have excellent memories surprised no one. Everyone, after all, has been brought up to believe that 'an elephant never forgets' so why should a chimpanzee be any different? The fact that Washoe spontaneously gave the name-sign of Beatoce Gardner, her surrogate mother, when she saw her after a separation of eleven years was no greater an accomplishment than the amazing memory shown by dogs who recognize their owners after separations of almost as long--and the chimpanzee has a much longer life span than a dog. Chimpanzees can plan ahead, too, at least as regards the immediate future. This, in fact, is well illustrated at Gombe, during the termiting season: often an individual prepares a tool for use on a termite mound that is several hundred yards away and absolutely out of sight.
This is not the place to describe in detail the other cognitive abilities that have been studied in laboratory chimpanzees. Among other accomplishments chimpanzees possess pre-mathematical skills: they can, for example, readily differentiate between more and less. They can classify things into specific categories according to a given criterion--thus they have no difficulty in separating a pile of food into fruits and vegetables on one occasion, and, on another, dividing the same pile of food into large versus small items, even though this requires putting some vegetables with some fruits. Chimpanzees who have been taught a language can combine signs creatively in order to describe objects for which they have no symbol. Washoe, for example, puzzled her caretakers by asking, repeatedly, for a rock berry. Eventually it transpired that she was referring to Brazil nuts which she had encountered for the first time a while before. Another language-trained chimp described a cucumber as a green banana, and another referred to an Alka-Seltzer as a listen drink. They can even invent signs. Lucy, as she got older, had to be put on a leash for her outings. One day eager to set off but having no sign for leash, she signaled her wishes by holding a crooked index finger to the ring on her collar. This sign became part of her vocabulary. Some chimpanzees love to draw, and especially to paint. Those who have learned sign language sometime spontaneously label their works, 'This [is] apple'--or bird, or sweetcorn, or whatever. The fact that the paintings often look, to our eye" remarkably unlike the objects depicted by the artists either means that the chimpanzees are poor draughtsmen or that we have much to learn regarding ape-style representational art!
People sometimes ask why chimpanzees have evolved such complex intellectual powers when their lives in the wild are so simple. The answer is, of course, that their lives in the wild are not so simple! They use--and need--all their mental skills during normal day-to-day life in their complex society. They are always having to make choices--where to go, or with whom to travel. They need highly developed social skills--particularly those males who are ambitious to attain high positions in the dominance hierarchy. Low-ranking chimpanzees must learn deception--to conceal their intentions or to do things in secret--if they are to get their way in the presence of their superiors. Indeed, the study of chimpanzees in the wild suggests that their intellectual abilities evolved, over the millennia, to help them cope with daily life. And now, the solid core of data concerning chimpanzee intellect collected so carefully in the lab setting provides a back ground against which to evaluate the many examples of intelligent, rational behavior that we see in the wild.
It is easier to study intellectual prowess in the lab where, through carefully devised tests and judicious use of rewards, the chimpanzees can be encouraged to exert themselves, to stretch their minds to the limit It is more meaningful to study the subject in the wild, but much harder. It is more meaningful because we can better understand the environmental pressures that led to the evolution of intellectual skills in chimpanzee societies. It is harder because, in the wild, almost all behaviors are confounded by countless variables; years of observing, recording and analyzing take the place of contrived testing; sample size can often be counted on the fingers of one hand; the only experiments are nature's own, and only time--eventually--may replicate them.
In the wild a single observation may prove of utmost significance, significance providing a clue to some hitherto puzzling aspect of behavior, a key to the understanding of, for example, a changed relationship. Obviously it is crucial to see as many incidents of this sort as possible. During the early years of my study at Gombe it became apparent that yes, one person alone could never learn more than a fraction of what was going on in a chimpanzee community at any given time. And so, from 1964 onwards, I gradually built up a research team to help in the gathering of information about the behavior of our closest living relatives.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 13
The Research Centre
THE GOMBE STREAM RESEARCH CENTRE grew from small beginnings to become one of the most dynamic field stations for the study of animal behavior in the world. The first two research assistants joined me in 1964. It was not long before we found that there was more work than we three could manage, eve though Hugo, my husband, was there to help as well. And so we sought additional funds to employ additional students. Almost all of them fell under the spell of Gombe and repaid our faith in them by helping us to collect more and ever more information about the lives of the chimpanzees.
By 1973 there were sometimes as many as twenty students, for by then we were studying not only chimpanzees, but baboons as well. There were graduate students from a variety of disciplines, mainly anthropology, ethology and psychology, from universities in the United States and Europe. And there were undergraduates too, from the interdisciplinary human biology programme at Stanford University and from the zoology department of the University of Dar esa
Salaam. The students slept in separate miniports—little aluminum huts hidden away among the trees near camp—but everyone gathered together in the mess for meals. This was a functional cement and some building down on the beach, built by my old friend George Dove at whose camp on the Serengeti Hugo and I had stayed when Grub was a baby. George had built offices, too, and a kitchen with a wood stove. And he had installed a generator so that we could have some electricity: this meant that we could work more easily at night and also enabled us to operate a deep freeze that made catering less of a nightmare. George even built a little stone house for us to use as a dark room.
Life at the research centre was busy. In addition to the main business of observing the animals and collecting data, there were weekly seminars at which we discussed research findings and planned ever better ways of collating the information from the various studies. There was a spirit of cooperation among the students, a willingness to share data, that was, I think, quite unusual. It had not been easy to foster this generous attitude--initially many of the graduate students were, understandably, reluctant to contribute any of their precious data to a central information pool. But clearly this had to be done if we were to come to grips with the extraordinarily complex social organization of the chimpanzees and document as fully as possible their life histories. I was helped not only by many of the students themselves, but also by Dave Hamburg, head of the department of psychiatry at Stanford University. It was he who had brought in the human biology students. And although these young people seldom stayed more than six months at Gombe, they had been so well prepared before they the arrived in Africa that their contributions were very valuable.
Most important of all for the long-term- future of the research at Gombe, though we did not know it then, was the training of the Tanzanian field staff. From 1968, when one of the students fell over a cliff while following chimps, and tragically lost her life, it had become the custom for each student to be accompanied in the bush by a local Tanzanian. Then, if there was an accident, one of the two could go for help. Gradually these men had acquired knowledge that made their assistance invaluable: they knew all the chimpanzees by name and could identify them for newcomers, and they were experts at finding their way around the rugged terrain. By 1972 they had begun to collect data themselves--for example, marking the travel route of a target chimpanzee on a map, noting who he or she associated with during the day, and identifying the various food plants that were eaten. The graduate students relied quite heavily on this pool of data, and so they worked hard to ensure that the field assistants were well trained. From time to time I held seminars in Kiswahili, the language used across East Africa, during which we discussed various aspects of chimpanzee and baboon behavior, and I talked about other non-human primates in different parts of the world. And so the field staff gradually became better informed, more interested and more enthusiastic.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 14
I felt immensely proud to have been responsible for bringing this group of people together, and the quality and quantity of information that was being gathered was extraordinary. Yet there were times when I thought back to my early days at Gombe with real nostalgia the very early days, when my only companions were my mother, Dominic the cook, and Hassan who drove the little motor boat into Kigoma for supplies. I had worked incredibly hard, forcing myself to climb to the Peak at dawn and remaining out until the mountains were already shadowed by the coming night. There were no weekends, no holidays. But I was young and physically fit and I gloried in it. And I was on my own. I could travel through the forests knowing that the only beings I would meet all day would be chimpanzees, or baboons, or some of the other wild creatures that inhabit the lush valleys or the more open mountain slopes. But change had been inevitable: there was no way in the world that one person, no matter how dedicated, could have made a really comprehensive study of the Gombe chimpanzees. Hence the research centre, the growing number of people moving about in the forests, the decreasing likelihood of spending hours at a time in absolute solitude.
In truth, by 1972 I was spending only very short periods with the chimpanzees, despite the fact that, apart from the three months a year that I spent teaching a course in the human biology programme at Stanford, I was living permanently at Gombe. This was because, after spending the previous few years watching chimpanzee mothers raising their infants, I was trying my hand at bringing up a child myself. It had become quite clear to me that a close, affectionate bond with the mother was important for the future well-being of a young chimpanzee. I suspected that the same was true for humans, and the work of men such as Rene Spitz and John Bowlby confirmed this. I was determined to give my own son the best start I could. And so, while the students spent most of their time in the field, I spent most of my time with Grub. (Although his real name is Hugo, he is still known as Grub to his family and closest friends even now.) I usually worked at ad ministration and writing in the morning and did things with Grub in the afternoons.
Of course I kept abreast of all that was going on in the chimpanzee community. The conversation each evening, in the mess, was very rarely about anything other than chimpanzees and baboons. I was able to follow, albeit vicariously, the dominance rivalry between Humphrey, Figan and Evered. I received daily bulletins on the adolescent exploits of Flint and Goblin, Pom and Gilka, and on Gigi's sexual adventures. Moreover, I almost always saw at least one or two chimps during my daily visits to camp.
Occasionally Grub and I had chimpanzee visitors at our house on the beach. Once Melissa and her family wandered along the veranda and peered through the weldmesh windows of the living room, just after someone had brought Grub two pet rabbits. There are no rabbits at Gombe, and the chimpanzees were clearly fascinated. Goblin, filled with the intense curiosity of adolescence, continued to hang onto the window, staring and staring, long after his mother and little sister had lost interest and left. Incidentally, they were terrific pets, those rabbits, quite house-trained, very affectionate and extremely entertaining. And they taught me a lot--I had no idea until then, for example, that rabbits enjoyed meat. And I was even more startled to watching them hunting and eating spiders!
Chimpanzees have been known to seize and eat human infants, and so that Grub would have maximum safety Hugo and I had built our house on the beach as the chimpanzees seldom went there. The baboons, however, were often on the lakeshore, and our house was in after the heart of the range of Beach troop. As a result, I spent more time watching baboons than I ever had before. This was not only a good learning experience in itself, but it gave me a new perspective on chimpanzee behavior, pinpointing ways in which it differs from that of monkeys, such as baboons. Chimpanzees are clearly more 'intellectual' than baboons--as demonstrated by their use of objects as tools, for example. But baboons are very much more adaptive than chimps. There are baboons all over Africa, from north to south, east to west, whereas the chimpanzees, with their cautious and conservative natures and their much slower reproductive rate, are found only in the equatorial forest belt and surrounding areas.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 15
From the very first, the baboons at Gombe, bold and opportunistic, were quick to try any imported human foods they could get their hands on--and almost without exception, they found them highly desirable commodities. There has been a constant battle of wits between the humans at Gombe on the one hand and baboons on the other--a battle won, only too often, by the baboons. In vain did we make rules: no food to be eaten outside; no food remains to be thrown out except in covered rubbish pits; food that has to be carried from one place to another must be covered; house doors must be closed at all times. Everyone tried to obey the rules but there were always times when someone forgot, or was in a hurry, or thought, 'Well, there aren't any
baboons around now.' And those are the moments baboons wait for.
The baboon Crease was an inveterate thief. He used to sit patiently for hours, concealed in some thickly foliaged tree behind one of our houses, far from the rest of his troop. If we forgot to latch the door, even for a few moments, he would seize the opportunity to make a quick raid. Many a loaf of bread, handful of eggs, pineapple or paw-paw did he snatch from the shelves before we imposed heavy fines on careless behavior that led to such depredations. Once he stole a two- pound tin of margarine, newly opened, and sat, consuming the contents slowly and with apparent relish, for the next two hours.
One day Grub, highly excited, told me an epic Crease story. It began when a water taxi (as we call the little boats that carry passengers up and down the lake) broke down near the research centre. The boat was pulled up to the edge of the beach, the outboard engine was taken off for repair, and the passengers got out to stretch their legs. Somehow Crease got wind of the fact that there was a load of cassava (manioc) flour on the empty boat. Without hesitation the old reprobate jumped aboard. But even as he ripped open one of the sacks, and began stuffing the food into his mouth, the boat started to drift out into the lake. Then, suddenly noticing that the shore was receding, Crease panicked. As he leaped from one side of the boat to the other he kept bumping into the ripped sack so that clouds of white dust rose from it, making him sneeze. Finally one of the students took pity on him and, weak at with laughter, pulled the boat back to shore. Crease disembarked with undignified haste, frosted like a Christmas decoration.
In fact baboons, unlike chimpanzees, can swim. Sometimes, when the water is calm, the young baboons go into the lake for fun, even diving down and swimming underwater. During aggressive incidents a baboon will sometimes escape from its persecutors by running out , into the lake and waiting there until things have quietened down.
Lake Tanganyika is said to be the largest body of uncontaminated water anywhere: it is the longest lake in the world and the second deepest. Great storms sometimes sweep its length, stirring the surface into huge waves. Almost every year a few fishermen are blown miles out towards Zaire, some never to return. And there are other dangers too, lurking in the crystal depths of the lake. The crocodiles have gone now, but there are water cobras living among the great rocks that march out into the water at the headland of each bay. There is no anti-venom that will save you if you are bitten by one of these long, sleek brown snakes, with black bands around its neck. That was why I always worried about Grub when he was swimming in the lake. Yet in most ways Gombe was a wonderful environment for bringing up on a child.
Grub spent much of his early childhood pottering about on the shores of the lake, and it was probably there, surrounded by traditional fishermen, that he acquired his passion for fishing. As a small boy he showed unbelievable patience when it came to untangling some hopelessly snarled fishing net. Whereas I would have given up after the first few minutes, he would persist for a whole morning, and sometimes into the afternoon, until at last the net was neatly laid out on the veranda, complete with floats, ready to set before nightfall. And then, after the excitement of examining the catch the next morning, the whole laborious process had to be gone through again.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 16
When Grub was five years old, he began a school correspondence course under the direction of a series of tutors--young people filling in a year between school and university, glad of the opportunity to see Gombe and the chimps in return for their services. But there was still much opportunity for fishing and swimming in the lake. It was at this same time that Maulidi Yango came into Grub's life. Maulidi, who was employed to help with the cutting of trails through the forest, has a splendid physique and is as strong as an ox. Newcomers to Gombe would sometimes be startled to see what appeared to be an entire tree moving ahead of them along some trail: and then, somewhere under the tree, they would see Maulidi! Easy-going, with a great sense of humor, Maulidi became Grub's childhood hero. Indeed, Grub maintains that Maulidi had more influence in shaping his character than anyone else outside the family. It was a commonplace sight at Gombe to see Maulidi stretched out on the sand while Grub swam, Maulidi paddling a canoe while Grub fished--or Maulidi eating his midday meal and enjoying his midday siesta while Grub waited. They have remained firm friends.
One morning Grub came to tell me that Flo and Flint were near the mess. By this time Flo was a very old lady indeed. Her teeth were worn down to the gums and she had trouble finding enough soft foods to eat. We gave her extra banana rations in camp and when she came near the house I always gave her eggs. But even so she gradually became more and more frail. Still, from time to time, she showed flashes of the indomitable spirit that, undoubtedly, had enabled her to live to such a ripe old age.
So it was that morning. I found her sitting on the ground, hunched and looking cold and miserable, for it had rained a short while before--one of those short, heavy deluges that sometimes catch one unawares in the middle of the dry season. Close by, Flint was teasing Crease. The old baboon was minding his own business, but Flint kept shaking rain-laden branches above his head, showering him with drops. In the end Crease, who had been bowing his head as though trying to ignore Flint, lost his temper and leapt up at his tormentor, threatening him. Flint screamed, and at once Flo sprang into action. Sticking her few remaining moth-eaten hairs on end she charged at Crease, uttering fierce waa-barks of threat. And Crease fled!
A few weeks later, Crease tried to take one of the eggs I had just given to Flo. She bristled up at once, stood upright, and ran at the baboon, flailing her arms and actually hitting him. And Crease withdrew and sat watching from a respectful distance as the ancient female slowly savored the eggs, one at a time, chewing them with leaves.
Sometimes I followed Flo and Flint when they wandered past the house. From time to time, Flint still tried to ride on his old mother and she would have carried him, I believe, had she been physically strong enough. As it was, she collapsed under his weight and so he had to walk. Even without him on her back Flo had to sit and rest frequently during travel, and Flint often became impatient, moving on and then whimpering when she did not immediately follow. Some times he went up to her and, with a sullen pout on his face, pushed her vigorously, trying to force her to move on. When she insisted on resting he gave her no peace but constantly pestered her for grooming, pulling her hands towards him, crying petulantly if she refused. Once he even pulled her out of a low day nest, so that she tumbled ignominiously onto the ground. Often I felt like slapping him. Yet it was clear that Flo would have been very lonely without him. She moved so slowly that even her daughter Fifi seldom traveled with her, and by then Flo had become almost as dependent on Flint as he was on her. I remember once, when they came to a fork in the trail, Flo went one way, Flint the other. I followed Flo. After a few minutes she stopped, looked back, and gave a few low, sad whimpers. She waited a while, hoping I suppose that Flint would change his mind. When he did not appear, she turned and went after her son.
It was a bright, clear morning when I received news of her death Her body had been found, lying face down in the Kakombe Stream. Although I had long known that the end was close, this did nothing to mitigate the grief that filled me as I stood looking down at Flo's remains. I had known her for eleven years and I had loved her.
I watched over her body that night, to keep marauding bushpigs from violating it. Flint was still nearby, and his grief might have been the worse had he found his mother's body torn and partly eaten. As I kept my vigil in the bright moonlight, I thought about Flo's life. For nigh on fifty years she must have roamed the Gombe hills. And even if I had not arrived to record her history, to invade the privacy of that rugged terrain, Flo's life would have been, in and of itself, significant and worthwhile, filled with purpose, vigor, and love of life. And how much I had learned from her during her long acquaintance. For she taught me to honor the role of the mother in society, and to appreciate not only the immeasurable importance to a child of good mothering but also the utter joy and contentment which that relationship can bring to the mother.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 17
Mothers and Daughters
M A N N E R S M A K Y T H M A N, wrote the poet William of .Wykeham. Ah--but what makyth the manners? We might, perhaps, venture 'Mother makyth manners'--along, of course, with a dash of early experience and more than a little spicing of genetic inheritance. The relative roles of 'nature' versus 'nurture' caused much bitter argument in scientific circles in recent years. But the flames of the controversy have now died down, and it is generally accepted that, even in the lower animals, adult behavior is acquired through a mix of genetic make-up and experience gained as the individual goes through life. The more complex an animal's brain the greater the role that learning is likely to play in shaping its behavior, and the more variation we shall find between one individual and another. Information acquired and lessons learned during infancy and childhood, when behavior is at its most flexible, are likely to have. particular significance.
For chimpanzees, whose brains are more like those of humans than are those of any other living animal, the nature of early experience may have a profound effect on adult behavior. Particularly important, I believe, is the disposition of the child's mother, his or her position in the family, and, if there are elder siblings, their sex and personalities. A secure childhood is likely to lead to self-reliance and independence in adulthood. A disturbed early life may leave permanent scars. In the wild almost all mothers look after their infants relatively efficiently. But even so there are clear-cut differences in the child-raising techniques of different individuals. It would be hard to find two females whose mothers had treated them more differently during their early years, than Flo's daughter Fifi and Passion's daughter Pom. In fact, Flo and Passion are at opposite ends of a scale: most mothers fall somewhere between these two extremes.
Fifi had a carefree--a wonderful--childhood. Old Flo was a highly competent mother, affectionate, tolerant, playful and protective. Figan was an integral part of the family when Fifi was growing up, joining her games when Flo was not in the mood and often supporting his young sister in her childhood squabbles. Faben, Flo's oldest son, was often around too. Flo, who held top rank among the females when I first knew her, was a sociable female. She spent a good deal of time with other members of her community, and she had a relaxed and friendly relationship with most of the adult males. In this social environment Fifi became a self-confident and assertive child.
Pom's childhood, in comparison with Fifi's, was bleak. Passion's personality was as different from Flo's as chalk from cheese. Even when I first knew her in the early sixties she was a loner. She had no close female companions, and on those occasions when she was in a group with adult males her relationship with them was typically uneasy and tense. She was a cold mother, intolerant and brusque, and she seldom played with her infant, particularly during the first two years. And Pom, being the first surviving child, had no sibling to play with during the long hours when she and her mother were on their own. She had a difficult time during her early months, and she became an anxious and clinging child, always fearful that her mother would go off and leave her behind.
Thus it is not really surprising that Pom and Fifi reacted differently to the various challenges that a young female must face as she grows up in the wild.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 18
All chimpanzee infants become upset and depressed during the difficult time of weaning when the mother prevents her child, with increasing frequency and determination, both from suckling and from riding on her back. This usually takes place during the fourth year. Fifi became noticeably less cheerful and less playful for a few months and she spent more and more time sitting in close contact with her mother, looking hunched and sad. But she got over her depression quickly, and by the time her infant brother Flint was born, was back to her old self--outgoing, confident and assertive.
Pom's depression, however, seemed to go on for ever.,interestingly, sometime during her daughter's third year, Passion's attitude towards her had softened: she had become more patient and more playful. And Pom, presumably as a direct result of this, had gradually become less anxious. But these signs of improved psychological well-being disappeared during the trauma of weaning. It was clearly a far more disturbing experience for Pom than it had been for Fifi, despite the fact that Passion, to my surprise, was remarkably tolerant. She almost always responded to Pom's frequent requests for grooming and even allowed her to ride on her back with a minimum of protest. For weeks after we were sure that her milk had dried up, she let Pom sit close, a nipple in her mouth, her eyes often closed, for as long as twenty minutes at a time. But nothing seemed to help. Pom's inability to cope with weaning was almost certainly due to the harsh treatment she had received as an infant. So often her only succor had been her mother's milk and now, when this was suddenly denied, her early sense of insecurity returned. It was not until a few weeks before Passion gave birth to her next infant that Pom finally quit trying to suckle from her mother.
For all young chimps the birth of a new baby in the family signals the end of an era, a major step towards independence although it will be another three to six years before they begin to leave their mothers and move out into the adult world. Fifi was about five and a half years old when Flint was born. Now that Flo had a tiny infant to care for she could not give her undivided attention to Fifi. But far from being upset, Fifi was utterly fascinated and delighted by the new baby, and spent hours, during his first two years, playing with him, grooming him, and carrying him during family travel. She jealously chased off other youngsters when they wanted to play with him, at least when he was small, and helped Flo by retrieving him from potentially dangerous situations.
Pom, like Fifi, was initially curious and fascinated when infant Prof was born. But soon, after the novelty of her little brother had worn off, she reverted to the depressed state in which she had been before his birth. And she remained lethargic and listless for most of Prof's first year of life, seldom showing much interest in him. Even when, at five months old, he began to toddle about a stage that Fifi had found irresistible Pom remained unresponsive to Prof. She seldom carried him, and when they played, which was not often, the game was usually initiated by Prof. Gradually, however, Pom got over her depression and her brother then became more appealing. She began to carry him and play with him more often. She became very protective, too. Once, for example, as Pom led her family through the forest, she noticed a large snake coiled up beside the trail. Uttering a small warning 'huu', she swung up into a tree. Three-year-old Prof, tottering along behind his sister, seemed not to see the snake. If he did, he had no thought of possible danger. Nor, apparently, did he understand Pom's soft warning. Passion, bringing up the rear, was far behind. Suddenly, when Prof was within a few yards of the snake, Pom, every hair on end with fright, rushed down, gathered up her little brother, and climbed with him to safety.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 19
The next major upheaval in the life of a young female chimp is when, at about ten years of age, she becomes for the first time sexually attractive to the big males. Fifi was enchanted by this new experience. Sometimes, when a male was, quite obviously, uninterested in what she had to offer, she would recline close by and, ever hopefully stare at him. Or rather, stare at a certain portion of his anatomy that was, so far as she was concerned, disappointingly flabby. Once she went so far as to tweak the limp appendage--with highly satisfactory results! It soon became clear that the males regarded Fifi as a most desirable sexual partner. She did not have quite the sex appeal that Flo had once radiated but in those days she was, after all, younger and less experienced.
When Pom, in her turn, first became sexually attractive to the adult males she, like Fifi, clearly found the new experience pleasurable and hastened to any male who showed signs of interest. But whereas Fifi had been calm and relaxed when she complied with the sexual demands of the males, Pom crouched before them, tense and nervous, and the moment intercourse was over she leapt away, often screaming. She developed strange, neurotic behaviors. Often, for example, as she went up to a male to greet him, she would utter loud and frenzied pant-barks of submission and, crouching in front of him, dab a hand out towards his face, then leap away. The males were irritated by this and sometimes threatened or even attacked her. And so, in a vicious circle, her nervousness and tension increased. It was scarcely surprising that Pom was far less popular as a sexual partner than Fifi had been at the same age.
Adolescent female chimpanzees, like their human counterparts, typically go through an infertile phase between menarche and the first conception. For both Fifi and Pom this period lasted for about two years two years during which, for about ten days each month, they came into oestrus and were sexually attractive and highly receptive to the adult males. These months were clearly beneficial to Fifi. Although Flo sometimes accompanied her daughter when she went m search of male company, she was old, and Fifi often went without her. And so she learned how to get on in adult society without having to rely on support from her high-ranking mother. As she matured socially and became more self-reliant, she filled out and became stronger too--she would be the more able to cope when she eventually became a mother herself.
Nevertheless, while Fifi became increasingly independent and worldly-wise, she always rejoined her mother after each period of alliance with the males. And so she was still very much a part of the family when, in 1968, Flo gave birth to her last baby. Sadly, little Flame only lived for six months, but during that time Fifi, whenever she had the opportunity when she was not sexually preoccupied with the males delighted to carry, groom and gently play with the tiny infant, thus gaining additional experience in maternal skills.
Towards the end of her two-year period of infertility, Fifi was frequently taken off by one or other of her male suitors to the outskirts of the community range. There the couple would remain if the male could pull it off isolated from other males, for the duration of Fifi's swelling. It is during such consortships that males have a good chance of siring a child. In fact, though, it is fairly certain that Fifi's first infant was not fathered by a male of her own community, but by one of the Kalande males in the south for Fifi made a number of visits to their territory, obeying the peculiar urge to wander, to meet and mate with stranger males, that we have observed in most females during late adolescence. And it seems that she conceived during one of those excursions. Once pregnant, Fifi returned to her own home range. Her relationship with Flo and seven-year-old Flint became even closer now that her sexual urge was, for a while, quiescent.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 20
Pom's adolescence was more turbulent. By then the bond between herself and her mother was very close indeed even closer, in some ways, than that between Fifi and Flo. Passion would always back up her daughter during squabbles with other community females and Pom had become assertive and aggressive in her dealings with them When Passion was not close by, the others would often retaliate, picking a fight with Pom. But if Passion was close enough to hear her daughter's screaming she would race to her defense and mother and daughter together would then punish the female concerned. And Pom typically tried to help and support her mother in the same way.
One such incident is clear in my mind. I had followed Pom all morning and was watching as she and another female, Nope, fished for termites. Presently we heard pant-hoots, then some screams, about half a mile to the west, further down the valley. Both females stared towards the sounds but while Nope at once returned to her feeding, Pom continued to gaze westward. After a few moments there was another outburst of calling. Nope paid no attention, but Pom gave a little grin of fear, reached to touch Nope, and continued to look towards the distant group. A minute later came the frenzied screaming of a chimpanzee being attacked. Instantly, with a squeak of fear, Pom was off, racing towards the sounds. There was, fortunately for me, a rough trail and I was not left too far behind. We ran for about five hundred yards and then, as I burst through a tangle of vines, I saw that Pom had joined her mother and was grooming her. Both Passion and Prof; who was up in a tree above, were bleeding from fresh wounds, received, without doubt, during the attacks we had just heard. An adult male charged towards us, hit out at Passion and her daughter, then chased way, leaving the Family alone.
Even during the periods when Porn was pink and went off in search of sexual gratification, Passion often went with her. And if Pom did travel with the males on her own, she usually returned quite soon to the reassuring company of her mother and little Prof. Not until her sixth pinkness was Pom observed to sleep with a group of males far away from her family.
Unlike Fifi, Pom was seldom taken on consortships--and at least part of the reason lay in her unusually close relationship with Passion. I well remember one hot September afternoon in 1976, when at midday I found Pom accompanied, as usual, by her mother and brother. With them was Satan--and he was trying most desperately to lead Pom away to the north. Pom, however, had no desire to go with him. Again and again, hair bristling, eyes glaring, Satan swayed vegetation at the young female, then moved off in his chosen direction, looking back to see if she was following. Again and again Pom ignored these summonses. Several times, exasperated, Satan swaggered around Pom, threatening her. And when this-happened Pom, screaming loudly, rushed to Passion for comfort. Then Passion, tough old bird that she was, glared at the big male and uttered a string of angry and surely abusive--waa-barks. Once Satan attacked Pom, and immediately Passion, with furious barks, hurled herself at her daughter's assailant, hitting him with her fists. Satan was probably as surprised as I was! He left the daughter and turned on the .mother--but he only attacked her mildly. Passion and Pom then groomed each other for a long time while Satan sat, glowering; nearby. After this he made only two more swaggering attempts to impose his will--and then nearly four hours after I had first-encountered them, he gave up and went off on his own. Pom had been well chaperoned!
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 21
The birth of a first baby, is, for the mother, an event of epic significance. And in Fifi's case the birth was of great significance for me also. Indeed, during the eight months of Fifi's pregnancy I was almost (but not quite!) as impatient as I had been during my own pregnancy four years earlier. Would she, as I predicted, be the same kind of mother as Flo? We first saw her baby in May 1971 when he was about two days old. Remembering the wild sexual adventures of his mother's adolescence, we named him naturally enough Freud! Just as expected, Fifi was from the start a relaxed and competent mother. Like Flo before her, she was tolerant, affectionate and playful. And she too showed some of the behavior that had been unique to her mother.
One day, when Freud was just a few months old, a student called to me: 'Isn't that what Flo used to do?' And there was Fifi dangling Freud from one foot while she tickled him just as Flo had played with Flint! Until then, no other mother had been observed to play in that special way. Fifi had tried when, as a child, she played with little Flint, but in those days her legs had been too short. Now she imitated Flo to perfection.
Fifi continued to spend most of her time with her own mother during Freud's first year of life, but disappointingly, Flo showed little interest in her grandson. Sometimes she peered at him and, as he grew older, she tolerated him when he occasionally held onto her hair. But by then Flo was very old indeed; she had barely enough energy to get her frail body through each day and there was none left over for luxuries such as playing with her daughter's infant. Freud was only fifteen months old when his grandmother died.
And what of Pom and her first baby ? She was almost exactly thirteen years old when Pan was born. I had expected her to treat him much as she herself had been treated as an infant but in this case (fortunately for Pan) my predictions were largely wrong. Pom was most definitely a more attentive and tolerant mother than Passion had been. Indeed, when first I watched her with her baby, carefully supporting him during travel whenever he lost his grip, it seemed that she had the makings then of a really considerate mother. But there was something lacking: Pom up and did not develop anything like the degree of maternal proficiency and concern shown by Fifi.
Indeed, in some ways Pom's behavior did reflect the manner in which she herself had been handled as an infant. She found it difficult to cradle Pan comfortably when he was small--or else she simply couldn't be bothered. Often, as she sat in a tree, the infant would slip down off her lap and hang on frantically with wildly kicking legs as he tried to pull himself back up again. Only when he whimpered did Pom look down and, appearing slightly surprised, gather him back onto her thighs. But she seldom made any attempt to make a better as lap and often, after a few minutes, he slipped down again and the sequence was repeated. Pom, like Passion, tended to move off without first gathering her infant; but unlike Passion, Pom almost always hurried back at his first whimper of distress. It seemed that she always expected Pan would be able to follow, but was instantly concerned when she found that he could not. Pom, like Passion, was not a playful mother, but Pan did not suffer as a result since Pom continued to spend most of her time with Passion and her new infant, Pax. And Pax, just a year older than Pan, was the perfect playmate.
Pom, for all that she was a far better mother than I had expected lost this first child. I was there to witness the horrifying accident that led to his death. It was one of those violently blustery mornings in August when the wind roars down the valley in great gusts, tossing the tree tops and sweeping on to wreak havoc over the lake. For about half an hour I had been lying on my back watching Pom and Pan as they fed on oil nuts forty-five feet above me. Pan was almost-three
years old, able to poke the occasional fruit from its horny case though preferring to beg for a half-chewed one from his mother. For a while he clung tightly to Pom's hair, made nervous, as most chimps are, by the violent wind. But then he got bold and ventured further afield despite the gale. Suddenly a really fierce gust lashed savagely at the fronds and Pan, like a stuffed toy, was swept from the tree. He seemed almost to float through the air, his arms and legs' spread as though he was lying flat out on some buoyant but invisible air mattress. As he hit the ground, rock hard after the fierce suns of summer, there was a sickening thud. A moment later came two strangled, heart-wrenching exhalations, then silence.
I was shaking when I moved toward his body. He lay as he had fallen, on his back. His eyes were closed. I looked up at Pom, left alone so suddenly in the tree. She was staring down at the ground. Very slowly, as though afraid, she climbed down and approached her infant. Cautiously she reached out, and gathered up the tiny form. To my utter astonishment he gripped her hair and clung, unaided, as she moved away. I had been certain he was already dead.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 22
For the next two hours Pom rested and groomed her infant. No mother could have shown more concern, more solicitude. Pan suckled for a long time, then leaned against Pom, with his eyes closed. When he did move, it was very slowly and, not surprisingly, he seemed quite dazed. I assumed he was, at the very least, suffering from concussion. Presently Pom gathered up her battered child and carried him up into a tall tree to feed.
Unfortunately this happened the day I was due to leave Gombe. The boat was waiting and I could not follow the tragedy through to the end. Three days later, when Pom was next seen, Pan was dead. Presumably he sustained internal injuries or a fractured skull--or both. By a strange coincidence, three weeks later, in Dar es Salaam, a little boy, the seven-year-old son of my neighbor's cook, fell from a coconut palm and landed, like Pan, on his back. He was rushed to the hospital where they found extensive internal damage, including a ruptured liver. They patched him up as best they could, but he too died a short while afterwards.
It would be unfair to blame Pom entirely for the accident, to accuse her of negligence. It could have happened to any infant. Yet I cannot imagine Fifi losing a child in this way. For Fifi, like Flo before her, like all really attentive chimpanzee mothers, is alert to potential danger. Often she 'rescues' her infant before the child itself has shown any the sight of distress or fear. After Pan's death, I began to watch carefully whenever Fifi, with one of her infants, fed up in a palm tree during a strong wind. Always the infant stayed close to her. Although I could not determine whether that was due to Fifi's concern or apprehension of the child, in some ways it comes to the same thing: if the infant is extra cautious it is probably at least in part because its movements have been firmly restricted in similar circumstances in the past.
Pom, after the tragic death of little Pan, became sick, lethargic and alone so emaciated we thought she might not recover. Her relationship with her mother now became, if anything, even closer, and they were seldom apart. I remember one day when they did accidentally become my separated Pom searched for Passion for almost an hour, frequently as she whimpering softly to herself, and from time to time climbing tall trees and gazing out from these vantage points in all directions. To some extent she may have been helped by occasional whiffs of Passion's characteristic odor as she traveled, she repeatedly bent and sniffed the trail or picked up leaves and smelled them carefully before dropping them. When eventually mother and daughter were reunited, Pom rushed up to Passion with small squeaks of excitement and pleasure, and the two groomed for over an hour.
As we shall see, the life histories of Fifi and Pom have continued along very different lines. Pom, after her mother's death, became increasingly solitary and eventually left the community for good. Fifi, by contrast, has become one of the most high-ranking and respected females in her group, maintaining close friendly relations with the adult males and many females too. She has also become the most reproductively successful Kasakela female to date. Whether Flo's main contribution to Fifi was genetic or through child-raising skills or through the equal mix of the two, the recipe worked. And her two eldest sons, who also received fifty per cent of their genes from their mother and who were probably brought up in much the same way,: thrived on Flo's recipe too. Particularly the younger of the two, Figan, who became, for a while, the most powerful alpha male in Gombe's recorded history.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 23
Figan's Rise
FROM THE OUTSET it was obvious that Figan was endowed with exceptional intelligence: I gave many examples in my earlier book, In the Shadow of Man. Equally clear was his determination to attain an ever higher position in male society. He developed an impressive charging display. This display serves to make a chimpanzee look bigger and more dangerous than he may actually be--his hair stands on end; he leaps up to shake the vegetation; he drags huge branches noisily along the ground, then hurls them ahead of him; he picks up and throws rocks with such vigor that they fly unpredictably ahead, behind or to the side; he stamps and slaps loudly upon the ground or some tree trunk; his lips are tightly compressed, pulling his face into a ferocious scowl. And the wilder and more impressive his display, and the more carefully it is planned and executed, the better his chance of intimidating his rivals without recourse to actual physical combat--during which he himself, as well as his opponent, might be injured. The smaller the individual the more it behooves him to work on his display.
Even as an adolescent Figan was quick to notice and try to take advantage of any sign of weakness (such as sickness or injury) in one of the adult males. Then, while the higher-ranked individual was at a disadvantage, Figan hurled his challenge--his impressive charging display--again and again. Often he was ignored, even threatened. But sometimes his audacity paid off and the older male, at least until he had recovered, would hasten out of his way. Even a temporary victory of this sort served to increase Figan's self-confidence.
When Mike deposed Goliath and rose to the top-ranking position of the community Figan was eleven years old and, clearly, fascinated by the imaginative strategy of the new alpha. For Mike, by incorporating empty four-gallon tin cans into his charging displays, hitting and kicking them ahead of him as he ran towards his rivals, succeeded in intimidating them all--including individuals much larger than himself. All the chimps were impressed by these unique, noisy and often terrifying performances. But Figan was the only one whom we saw, on two different occasions, 'practising' with cans that had been abandoned by Mike. Characteristically--for he was a past master at keeping out of trouble--he did this only when out of sight of the older males who would have been intolerant of such behaviour in a mere adolescent. He would undoubtedly have become as adroit as Mike had we not removed all cans from circulation.
Figan's strong motivation to better his social position, along with his intelligence, earmarked him as a future alpha. The only serious drawback seemed to be his very highly strung nature. During intense social excitement, for example, he sometimes began to scream uncontrollably and often rushed over to a nearby individual, touching or embracing him, or her, for reassurance. Sometimes he even clutched his own scrotum. Nevertheless, as I was finishing In the Shadow of Man I wrote: 'I suspect that Figan will eventually become the top ranking male.'
The story that lies behind Figan's long struggle to the top is a fascinating one. It revolves around the complex and changing relationships between himself and three other males--his brother, Faber" his childhood playmate, Evered; and, oldest of the four, the powerfult and unusually aggressive Humphrey.
When Faben was striken by polio and lost the use of one arm, Figan managed to dominate his older brother. For the next three years the two young males interacted very little. Indeed, had they not been equally drawn to spend time with their mother they would probably have drifted apart, for Faben, at that time, was friendly with Humphrey, and Figan was clearly ill at ease in the presence of the much larger and stronger male.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 24
Then, when Figan was sixteen years old, the nature of his relationship with Faben changed again. The brothers became increasingly friendly and, for the first time, we observed them joining forces against one of Figan's rivals, his childhood playmate Evered. Together the brothers defeated him with ease, and wounded him quite badly into the bargain.
For some time prior to that attack, relations between Figan and Evered had been strained and tense. When they met they had often performed vigorous charging displays as each tried to intimidate the other. Evered, by virtue of his seniority, had usually come off best, but after his defeat by the brothers he began to greet Figan with nervous panting grunts whenever they met. At least, he did for a few months. Youth, however, can be resilient, and Evered, like Figan, was also highly motivated to climb the social ladder. Gradually Evered's confidence returned--partly, no doubt, because Figan was by no means always with his brother: Faben was still friendly with Humphrey, and Figan, wisely, steered clear of the powerful male. Moreover, even when the brothers were together, Faben did not always help Figan: sometimes he just sat and watched.
By that time, although Mike was still top-ranking, he was showing signs of age. His teeth were worn, the canines broken. His hair, dull and brown,.was beginning to thin. It is not surprising that Figan, perceptive and astute as ever, was the first to challenge the authority of the failing alpha. Initially he merely ignored Mike's charging displays: he sat facing the other way! This clearly had an unnerving effect on Mike, who sometimes displayed again and again in Figan's vicinity ; as though desperately trying to provoke some sign of respect. But Figan was not impressed and, as the weeks went by, he himself displayed ever more frequently when he was near Mike. And soon Evered also began to question Mike's position.
Both these young males, however, continued to show extreme deference to Humphrey. And Humphrey himself, through sheer force of custom (since he could have defeated Mike hands down in actual combat) was still highly respectful of the old alpha. Thus in 1969 I wrote: 'Soon, then, we may have a situation where no single male is dominant in all situations. Certainly something is going to happen very soon.
Something did, on a dull, grey day early in January, 1970. was sitting in camp by himself, peacefully eating a few bananas, suddenly Humphrey, closely followed by Faben, charged up the slope and attacked him--just like that. For no obvious reason, with no apparent provocation. Mike, screaming, sought refuge up a tree. Humphrey followed, pulled him to the ground, and hit and stamped on him again. Faben, for good measure, joined the fray, and pounded on Mike a couple of times. Humphrey, seeming almost shocked by what he had done, was already leaving, and Faben followed him. The two aggressors vanished, leaving Mike utterly shattered, giving soft calls of fear and distress.
It had all happened so suddenly, was over so quickly. Yet it was truly an historic event, for it marked the end of an era, Mike's six-year reign as alpha. Almost overnight he became one of the lowest ranking males of his community: even some of the adolescents began to challenge him, and Mike seldom tried to stand up for himself.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 25
A week after his defeat, I followed the fallen monarch when he left camp. He moved slowly, pausing often to pick and munch on various leaves and fruits along the way. Later, in the heat of midday, he bent a few saplings onto the ground and settled down on this little bed to rest. I leaned against the trunk of a gnarled old fig nearby. lt was quiet and very peaceful. Mike lay, his eyes open, staring into space. As I watched him I wondered what was going on in his mind. Was he regretting his lost power? Is it only we humans, with our constant preoccupation with self-image, who know the crippling sense of humiliation? Mike turned his head and looked at me, looked directly up my eyes. His gaze seemed untroubled, serene. Perhaps, I thought he was glad to relax and let go the reins of power. After all, it is hard work for a top-ranking chimpanzee to maintain his position even when he is strong and young. And Mike was so old, so tired. Presently he closed his eyes and slept. Later, when he awoke, he wander off into the forest, a solitary figure, very small under the huge trees.
Humphrey automatically succeeded Mike as alpha. But although it was a decisive victory he had won, it was hardly glorious He was strong and in his prime. He weighed at least twenty pounds more than aging Mike. No grim determination to succeed, no hard-won series of battles against a powerful adversary, lay behind this rise to top rank. And, despite his large build and fiery temperament, Humphrey never became a truly impressive alpha: he was little more than a blustering bully, lacking the drive, intelligence and courage that had been so impressive in both Mike and his predecessor Goliath.
Indeed, but for a lucky break--the departure of Hugh and Charlie, the two males whom he feared the most--Humphrey would never have made it to the top at all. This had happened a few months before Humphrey defeated Mike, at a time when the community that I had been observing for ten years began to divide. Some of them were spending ever more time in the far south of the range which, until then, all members of the community had shared. The leaders of the move to the south were Hugh and Charlie. Almost certainly brothers, the two had a close, supportive relationship and almost always traveled about together. They made a formidable team and it was hardly surprising that Humphrey, who had no close friend and only the occasional support of one-armed Faben, was fearful of them. When Hugh and Charlie, along with the other 'southern' males, made one of their occasional excursions back to the north, Humphrey was usually able to avoid them. Gradually these expeditions became less and less frequent and eventually stopped altogether.
Everything seemed to be going Humphrey's way. Not only was he rid of his main rivals but, as a result of the community division, there were now only eight adult males over whom he had to maintain control: Mike, and Goliath before him, had had to exercise authority over up to fourteen. Yet despite this auspicious start, Humphrey only held his top-ranking position for one and a half years. He was usurped by Figan.
Even during the early months of his reign Humphrey seemed to sense, in Figan, potential danger: he displayed bristling and magnificent, much more often in Figan's presence than at other times. Probably such performances served to boost his own self-confidence, as well as to impress Figan. Figan, for his part, initially continued to keep out of Humphrey's way as much as possible and was, at least outwardly, highly respectful of the new alpha. Meanwhile he was still preoccupied with his long struggle to dominate Evered. Indeed, looking back on the events of the stormy period it seems probable that Figan, all along, realized that Evered, rather than Humphrey, was his most formidable rival.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 26
Soon after the change in alpha males a serious fight took place between Evered and Figan. As the two males skirmished high in a tree, Evered was joined by one of the senior males, and Figan, outmatched, fell some thirty feet to the ground. Evered, victorious, displayed magnificently through the branches while Figan sat screaming below. He was badly hurt, having sprained his wrist or, perhaps, broken some small bone in his hand, and he was very lame for the next three weeks.
This happened just two months before Flo's death. She looked incredibly ancient; her body was shrunken, her eyes, for the most part, dull and blank, her movements slow. Yet when she heard the frenzied screaming of her son, at least a quarter of a mile away, she leapt to her feet and, with all her remaining hairs standing on end, raced towards the sounds so fast that her human follower was left far behind. When she arrived on the scene there seemed little she could do, this frail old lady, to help Figan against his powerful aggressors. But her very presence calmed him. His frantic screaming gave way to soft whimpers as he limped towards his mother. And when she began to groom him he quietened altogether, relaxing under the reassuring touch of her fingers just as he had throughout his infancy and childhood. When Flo moved off, Figan followed, holding his bad hand off the ground. Not until his injury had healed did he leave her and move
back into adult male society with all its tensions and dangers, its excitement and exhilaration.
The next recorded drama was a fight between Figan and Humphrey. It was not very dramatic, and neither male was hurt, but it marked, for the alpha male, the beginning of the end. When it was over each of the combatants repeatedly ran to touch or embrace one of the other males present. They were not only seeking reassurance, but also trying to enlist allies. In this only Figan was successful: he persuaded one two of the others to join him and, together, they charged at Humphrey who fled and, for several days, is thought to have wandered by himself His period of greatest control had ended but Figan's had not yet begun.
The more we learn about the struggle for power among chimpanzees, the more we realize the tremendous importance of coalitions. An adult male trying to make it to the top has a much better chance of success if he has an ally--a friend who will consistently come to his assistance in times of need and, even more important from a psychological point of view, who will not side with a rival against him. A temporary alliance now sprang up between Humphrey and Evered. They sought each other's company and became frequent grooming partners. When they were together, each giving the other moral support, they could afford to ignore Figan's tempestuous displays. Indeed, they jointly defeated him in a fight a few months later. But this did not change things much--Humphrey, for the most part, avoided Figan, while the tension and hostility between Figan and Evered seemed, if anything, to increase. The charging displays that each performed in the vicinity of the other, when they met, became ever more vigorous. Once they charged back and forth, first one and then the other, for the best part of an hour. Figan, hair bristling, ran toward Evered, hurled a large rock, and displayed past him, scattering other members of the group. Then he sat, out of breath. A few moments later Evered started up. He leapt to shake and sway vegetation near his rival, dragged a branch past him, then in his turn sat panting from his exertions. Five minutes later, Figan began another performance. And so it went on. They created much excitement and nervous tension among their spectators before they finally gave up, probably from exhaustion. So far as we could tell, the score at the end of that round was even.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 27
Figan, despite his intelligence and his desire for high rank, might never have attained the coveted alpha position but for a sudden change of heart in Faben. Up until that time, although Faben has almost never joined sides against his younger brother, he had by no means always supported him either. But all at once, towards the end of 1972, the relationship between the two became even closer: if Figan challenged another male, Faben, if present, would join in, displaying in unison with his brother. If Figan needed help, Faben was prepared to give it. He became, it seemed, utterly committed to supporting Figan in his quest for power.
Why did Faben show this sudden change of heart? Was it perhaps, at least in part, a consequence of Flo's death? The closer bond between the brothers was not apparent immediately following her passing, but then neither Faben (nor Figan for that matter) saw her dead body so there was no way of knowing, at the time, that Flo had vanished for ever. Then, as weeks went by with no sign of her, may not Faben have begun to feel a creeping sense of loss, an empty place in his heart, full-grown male though he was? A certain loneliness which he tried to assuage by spending more time with his brother?
Certainly Faben as well as Figan had, as an adult, found comfort in his mother's familiar, unthreatening presence. Once, when he hurt his foot, Faben (like Figan when he sprained his wrist) had traveled with Flo until he was well again. There was also the time when Faben returned, after a long sojourn in the north, with the hand of his paralyzed arm badly infected. He was, quite clearly, in considerable pain. He moved very slowly, walking upright and cradling the swollen fingers with his good hand. For several days he remained close to camp, constantly scanning the slopes of the valley, as though looking for someone. We shall never know whether, as I suspect, he was seeking comfort from his mother, for Flo, by one of those ironic twists of fate, had died the day before his return.
Whatever the reasons behind Faben's decision to whole-heartedly support his younger brother, by April 1973 the two were all but inseparable. It was the strength of this alliance that not only brought about Humphrey's final downfall, but enabled Figan, at long last, to vanquish Evered, too. He accomplished these victories during three major conflicts.
The first of these took place at the end of April. Figan and Faben jointly attacked Evered, who took refuge up a tree, whimpering and screaming. The brothers continued to charge about below for over half an hour until, during a lull, their victim finally managed to escape.
Four days later came the second. This time Figan tackled Humphrey--a far more dangerous opponent than Evered when it came to actual fighting, since Humphrey weighed at least fifteen pounds more than either Figan or Evered. It happened in the evening. All four main characters were present--indeed they had been together all day in a large mixed group, feasting on the lush crops that abound at the end of the long wet season. There had been the usual kinds of excitement--charging displays and squabbles. Nothing out of the ordinary. As the sun sank low toward the lake in the west, Figan was feeding by himself, some distance from the others. The sound of snapping branches and rustling leaves indicated that the chimpanzees were beginning to make their nests for the night. It was a peaceful time, a time for gentle relaxation after the long day, before stretching out with a full belly. Figan stopped feeding. For a few moments he sat motionless in his tree and then, quite calmly, he climbed down. But by the time he reached the others his hair had begun to bristle and, as he climbed their tree, moving ever faster, he swelled until he seemed twice his normal size. Suddenly he was off, displaying wildly through the branches, swaying them violently, leaping and swinging from one side of the tree to the other. There was instant pandemonium as chimpanzees screamed and fled his approach, many of them leaping from their nests. Figan briefly chased an old male, swatted him in passing and then, having worked himself into a frenzy, leapt down onto Humphrey where he sat in his nest. The two males, locked in combat, fell at least thirty feet to the ground. Humphrey pulled away and fled, screaming. Figan chased him a short distance and then, still without pause for breath, climbed back into the tree and continued to leap about in the branches.
During the next fifteen minutes Figan displayed five more times. Twice he attacked a low-ranking male and the frantic screaming of his luckless victim added to the general confusion. Finally Figan be-came still (he must have been quite exhausted) and sat with heaving sides. Seeing this, Humphrey, who had unobtrusively climbed back into the tree, made himself another nest. Too soon! He had barely laid his head on a bunch of soft green leaves when Figan began yet another display and once again hurled himself down onto his rival. For a second time the two fell to the ground; for a second time Humphrey broke away and, screaming loudly, fled into the undergrowth.
Brad and Trouble
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 28
By this time it was almost dark. Figan sat for a while on the ground and then climbed up the tree and made himself a nest. Only then did Humphrey return and, very quietly, make his third bed. This time he was able to settle down for the night without further interruption.
Throughout that entire skirmish, big brother Faben had watched from his nest. I wonder if Figan would have dared attack his powerful adversary had Faben not been present? I suspect not. As it was, he surely knew that Faben would have helped him if he needed it. Perhaps more importantly, Humphrey knew it too.
After that decisive victory, a triumph watched by more than half the members of the Kasakela community, Figan's top rank seemed assured. But although he now accepted Humphrey's show of deference quite calmly, almost as his due, Evered, it seemed, was still perceived as a threat. After all, he had been dominant to Figan for years, and during his long quest for power had shown far greater persistence and vigor than had Humphrey. The grand finale came towards the end of May and, as before, Faben supported Figan throughout.
It took place on a hot, humid afternoon. The two brothers were feeding peacefully when Evered's distinctive pant-hoots sounded from the far side of the valley. They glanced at one another, their hair bristled, and they grinned widely in excitement. Then, leaping to the ground, they raced off in the direction from which the calls had come They found Evered in a tree on a steep hillside. Terrified, he crouched there as the brothers charged back and forth below, dragging branches and hurling rocks. Then, as one, they leapt up into the tree and threw themselves on their victim. Locked together, grappling, the three male fell to the ground and Evered managed to break free. He fled some way up the hillside, then took refuge in another tree. The brothers followed and, for the next hour, displayed on and off below him. Poor Evered, there he stayed, occasionally whimpering and screaming in fear until, at last, Figan and Faben moved away. Not until they were some distance away and out of sight did Evered dare to climb silently from the tree and make his escape.
Figan had made it to the top.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 29
Power
IT IS ONE THING to rise to the top-ranking position of a community. It is another matter to remain on top day after day, month after month. Figan had attained his goal thanks to the support of his brother--and Faben would not always be around, for every hour of every day. How would Figan manage then if one of the other males should challenge the new order?
The test came all too soon when Faben, involved in romantic dalliance with a female, vanished for three whole weeks to the northern part of the community range. Figan was extremely worried--and rightly so, for Humphrey and Evered might well have challenged their new alpha had they realized that his ally was so far away. Every so often Figan would climb a tall tree and, from the higher branches, gaze out in all directions as through searching for signs of his missing brother. Occasionally he would give the long, loud screaming calls that serve to attract the attention of friends in times of need--SOS screams, we call them. But Faben was too far away to hear and Figan was forced to rely on his own resources.
It reminded me vividly of the time when, at the beginning of Mike's reign as alpha, we had removed his tin cans: for he had relied on them during his struggle for supremacy much as Figan had relied on Faben. In his effort to compensate for their loss Mike had expended huge efforts to make his displays impressive in other ways. He had hurled the very biggest rocks, dragged and flailed enormous branches--even two branches at a time. Once as he rushed towards a group of adult males with a palm frond in each hand, he had actually paused to gather up yet a third. Only very gradually had Mike relaxed, realizing that even without his precious cans he still held the respect of the other males.
And now, ten years later, Figan responded to a similar challenge in much the same way. The frequency and vigor of his charging displays increased dramatically, and he was a past master when it came to planning and executing these performances. Thus he would, if possible, move quietly up slope from some unsuspecting group, then charge down. Not only did this give him an element of surprise, but it enabled him to appear at his most impressive as he bore down upon the group, flat out, from above. And, of course, it is less tiring to run downhill; there will be more energy to spare if, in the face of any insubordination, it should be necessary to repeat the performance.
Most effective were his wild arboreal performances at the crack of dawn when it was still almost dark and the rest of the group was still abed. These caused pandemonium, with confused chimps screaming and hurling themselves from their nests. Back and forth, up and down--Figan leapt from branch to branch, shaking the vegetation, snapping great branches and, for good measure, pounding, from time to time, on some unfortunate subordinate. The confusion and the noise were unbelievable. And then, when it was all over, their new alpha, all bristling magnificence, would sit on the ground and, like some great tribal chief, receive the obeisance of his underlings.
And so, as a result of high motivation, determination and the expenditure of much physical effort, Figan stayed on top. And when Faben finally returned to the center of the community range, Figan' was able to relax and enjoy to the full the fruits of his labors--the respect of all the other members of his social group and the right of prior access to any feeding place or sexually attractive female that he fancied. Power.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 30
One day, soon after Faben's return, I watched as the two brothers, who had been on their own for a while, approached three of the other males who were peacefully feeding on fallen fruits. As Figan, closely followed by Faben, charged towards them, all three screamed and rushed up trees. Their point made, the brothers sat with bristling hair and looked up into the branches above. Satan, a good deal larger than the new alpha, and in his prime, hastened down and, with loud panting-grunts of submission, pressed his mouth to Figan's thigh. And Figan, utterly relaxed, utterly self-confident, laid a munificent hand on the bowed head before him. Then, as Satan began to groom Figan, Jomeo and Humphrey also approached to pay their respects and, for a while, Figan was groomed by all three.
Faben, probably because of his paralyzed arm, had never become a high-ranking male. But as brother of the alpha he was treated with a new respect by the other males - at least when Figan was around. Faben probably realized this quite quickly, for, after that initial three-week period in the north, he rarely spent more than a few days away from Figan. Some adult males spend a good deal of time on their own - Mike, even when, alpha, had sought occasional spells of solitude. But Figan, from earliest childhood, had wanted to be in the thick of things, been happiest when part of a noisy, excitable group - males, females, the more the better. And Faben, now that he was spending so much time with Figan, became more social too. The two brothers formed, in a way, the hub around which the wheel of society revolved. The other chimps, particularly the males, were fascinated as well as intimidated when Faben, charging along with his splendid upright gait, limp arm swinging, hair bristling, joined in the already impressive displays of their alpha.
For the first two years of his reign Figan held a position of almost absolute power in the community. This meant that he could, if he so wished, maintain all but exclusive mating rights over any female who caught his fancy. Once he had proclaimed his interest by threatening any would-be suitors who approached too closely, his mere presence, close to the lady friend of the moment, was usually sufficient to inhibit the sexual advances of the other males. He established a pattern, taking over the community females, one after the other, when they were at their most alluring - during the last four or five days of their swellings.
Faben's privileged position was very apparent at such times for Figan usually shared his sexual possessions with his brother much as he shared precious food items, such as meat. And Figan received a payoff for his generosity: Faben helped to keep an eye on the current lady, friend when Figan was momentarily busy elsewhere. However, even Figan and Faben between them could not prevent their female from enjoying occasional clandestine intercourse with one or other of the frustrated lower-ranking males. Such opportunities arose when the attention of the alpha male and his brother was temporarily diverted. Once, for example, when Figan and Faben were intently watching a troop of colobus monkeys with an eye to acquiring monkey meat, three other males copulated with their female in quick succession: neither of the brothers even noticed!
It always surprised us that the females themselves were prepared to cooperate in these illicit affairs. Because when Figan did notice he would race towards the pair and, very often, bash the female for her faithlessness. This made more sense than attacking the rival male - for a skirmish of that sort would have left the female unguarded and available for yet another quick clandestine mating!
The male who sneaked the most copulations with Figan's females was adolescent Goblin. He was utterly fascinated by sex and, incidentally, utterly fascinated by Figan, too. Because he was not perceived as a rival (he was only nine years old when Figan came to power) Goblin was able to maintain surprisingly close proximity to the succession of females with whom the alpha male satisfied his sexual needs. Thus, even if Figan's attention was diverted but momentarily, Goblin was on hand to take advantage. And since the sexual act comprises no more than ten to twelve rapid pelvic thrusts, the briefest of opportunities sufficed - so long as the females cooperated, and for some reason they usually did. So closely did Goblin follow those tempting pink bottoms that he was occasionally able to snatch a few seconds of sexual gratification as Figan led the way through dense under- growth.
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Through a Window by Jane Goodall part 31
Sometimes an adolescent male selects one of the senior males as his 'hero'. He is attentive to all of them, but it is his hero whom he watches most closely, and with whom he is most likely to travel when he leaves his family. Figan, without a shadow of doubt, was Goblin's hero. Often, after watching Figan closely, Goblin imitated his behavior. One day I watched as Figan did a magnificent display, dragging a large branch, slapping and stamping on the ground, and drumming on the buttress of a large tree. Goblin, from a discreet distance, watched intently and then displayed in his turn, following the exact route that Figan had taken, dragging the self-same branch and drumming on the same tree. I was reminded of those times when Figan had practiced with Mike's empty cans.
Figan, for his part, was remarkably tolerant of his small and persistent shadow, but very occasionally, when Goblin got too close - when he was feeding, for example - Figan threatened him mildly. This would throw Goblin, temporarily, in a frenzy of apology. Sometimes Figan supported his young friend if he got into trouble with other individuals. Little did any of us realize then the far-reaching consequences, both for Figan and for Goblin of this special relationship between them.
Under the rule of a powerful male the conflicts between the other members of the community are kept to a minimum, for he uses his position to prevent too much fighting among his subordinates. What motivates him is not always clear. Sometimes there may be a genuine desire to help the underdog. At other times it may be that the alpha feels his position is challenged if another male initiates a fight. I remember once when Figan and Faben jointly attacked a female during the excitement of a reunion. But when, a few moments later, young Sherry attacked the same female, Figan, a picture of chivalry, raced over, bashed the aggressor and so 'rescued' the female. But whatever the driving force behind Figan's interventions in the affairs of his underlings, his behavior served to terminate countless squabbles. Moreover, I suspect that many would-be aggressors, anticipating the displeasure of their boss, exercised more self-restraint when he was around. Thus Figan, during the years of his power, helped to promote and maintain an atmosphere of social harmony among the members of his group.
During the second year of Figan's reign two of the students - David Riss and Curt Busse - asked me if they could follow Figan, monitor his movements, behavior, and relationships with other chimpanzees, for fifty cons