It had been a long few weeks. COVID-19 swept through our house, catching all of us in tandem. I was the first to get sick, then Prissy, and a week later our middle son.
The illness was short lived, and mostly like a severe cold. We all recovered well, though it took weeks to finally feel safe enough to be around people again.
I was antsy to return to the mangrove forest and check in on the long-tailed macaques of Troop Bravo.
The weather was mild. It was overcast and a little cooler than normal. Rain was likely in the late afternoon but the morning was dry.
I felt strong. Completely healed and 100 percent for the first time in nearly a month.
When I arrived at the park I went about my routine as normal. Stop at the food vendors outside of the main gate and purchase a drink. Greet the security officers, check in and purchase my photography permit. Drink my drink, hit the restroom, and then unpack my camera gear.
I wondered where the troop would be hanging out. Near the lair? On the boardwalk? Swimming in the swimming hole? Chances were they could be anywhere.
It didn't take long to locates the monkeys.
Directly off of the main path, in a large metal cage, were a dozen of the troop members. Nearby were two more steel cages, sitting empty. A trap was set down by the waterfront with bags of junk food as bait.
My heart sank.
I stayed away from the cage, but crouched down on the pathway to better see inside. A dozen sets of frightened eyes looked back and a forlorn chorus of tiny sounds came from the macaques. I took out my camera and snapped a few images.
If 12 troop members were caged it was likely there were still a dozen or so monkeys still free roaming.
“Hey guys,” I said to the cage.”I'll be back in a bit.”
I'm not sure why I said that. I very rarely spoke around the macaques. Sometimes, quietly, when Mal came to investigate me, or old Bibi, I would say something friendly, soothing. Still, typically, I was silent behind my mask.
About 150 meters down the path, over on the waterfront, I found the remaining troop members.
The monkeys were foraging, playing, relaxing and going about their business as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. As if their world wasn't collapsing around them.
I watched them, too, as I always do. As if Troop Bravo was still viable. As if there was a reason to record the behaviors.
On my research app I noted their GPS position, population count, and behavioral notes. I debated about adding an annotation: thirteen wild, twelve captive.
I watched the decimated troop for an hour. Mal was still free. He did his job dutifully. Mal led the survivors on normal rounds. Looking for food. Taking breaks. Letting the little ones play.
There were two youngsters. Practically infants. I did not observe a mother for either baby monkey. No females with milk at all in the uncaged group. Just a bunch of juveniles, older males and the little ones.
One slight difference in Mal's demeanor. He didn't socially interact with the other troop members. Mostly, he sat and stared into the distance. It was as if he might be contemplating the situation. It might be that he already understood the inevitable outcome. Mal's kingdom was gone. I like to think he was trying to come up with a plan to rescue the others. It's silly to think that, but Mal was always on guard, always protecting the troop.
Watching the babies made it clear that they weren't used to taking care of themselves. They tried to mimic the juveniles and forage, picking up plastic bags and sticks and tasting them. One sub-adult female took time to break down some root pieces. She handed the babies bits of the edible roots. She ate, then shared with the youngsters.
It felt as if they were doing their best to carry on normally, but what they knew as “normal” will never return.
I wanted to know what was happening. Even though I already had a good idea of what was transpiring I still needed confirmation. I stopped one of the park staff and asked him in bahasa why the monkeys were in the cage. He told me that the monkeys had become aggressive. The macaques had attacked a park guest. The park administration decided, for public safety reasons, the monkeys needed to be removed from the mangrove park and relocated elsewhere. It was a humane solution.
I asked if he knew where they planned to release the monkeys, but the answer was lost in translation. I only know it will not be near the North Jakarta mangroves.
I had always known that this was a possible outcome. A few months ago, Troop Bravo took the blame for foraging raids on adjacent neighborhoods. People saw them as nuisance pests then, and the opinion never faded. Removal of the macaques was always a potential action plan.
I sighed, deeply. The park worker also said he was sad to see this happen. He patted my shoulder and I thanked him for taking the time to chat with me.
Eventually, I went back to the cage as promised. I sat on the curb of the pathway.
From the back of the darkened, tarp covered cage one set of eyes followed me. Slowly, the form of the adult female became clearer as she neared the metal bars at the front of the cage. It was Bibi. She held my gaze for a second. After a minute, I couldn't look at her anymore. I shook my head slightly and looked away. Bibi melted back into the shadows. Into the blackness of her uncertain future. She vanished as Troop Bravo is vanishing.
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