April 19th was a weekday. The weather was warm, sunny, dry and fairly agreeable. Traffic on the way to the mangrove park was standard fare for the morning commute hours, heavy and slowly moving. Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
I started my observations just before 9 a.m., following my normal routine of meandering down the main path looking for signs of monkey activities (such as raided trashcans or leaf scatter). Typically, it takes 10 to 15 minutes to locate the troop. More than 90 percent of the time they are within 10 meters (or less) of the main pathway.
An hour went by and still no signs nor sightings of the long tailed macaques. At that point I'd walked the main path three times, from end to end. I decided to walk the mangrove boardwalk, which is a less favored area for the monkey troop. After a complete circuit on the boardwalk there was still no indication of the macaques' location.
After repeating my search patterns a few more times (and talking to park workers who said they'd not seen the monkeys that day either), I ended my observations.
Two hours and 15 minutes of looking for 22 macaques in a park that's smaller than one kilometer in length, and less than half a kilometer wide seemed like it would certainly yield the troop's location.
I left without finding a single monkey. It was a bit perplexing and felt odd.
Additionally, there was a higher presence of park staff than previously, and a contingent of local police arrived in cargo trucks (something I'd never seen before, either).
On April 23 I made a return trip to the mangrove park. Saturdays are typically busy with visitors, fishermen, park staff and sometimes special events. When I have visited on previous weekends the macaque troop is even easier to locate because they are seeking provisioning from people with human snacks of all sorts.
I started my observations as I always do: look for monkey signs first, then monkeys.
Long tailed macaques are creatures of habit. They tend to follow routines, if not actual schedules. They sleep in the treetop canopy of their lair, which is located at the far end of the park, away from the hustle and bustle of the entrance gate and adjacent roadway. Just after sunrise the troop descends to the forest floor, led by Mal (the male troop leader). Following the cues of their leader they slowly make their way towards the paved path and the trash receptacles (which are abundantly placed in pairs every 50 meters). They look through the human refuse and explore any motorcycles along the way. Most of the troop forages from vegetation and fruits. These are standard behaviors that I've witnessed with consistency on weekday mornings.
So, I start with what I know of their daily cycle and it'll normally lead me to the troop in short order.
As I neared the lair without sighting a single monkey (nor the normal signs of monkey activity), I felt my observation would become a repeat of April 19th.
Suddenly, a single macaque sitting on a berm among the mangrove seedlings caught my attention. It was Mal, and behind him, in the trees were more monkeys. The muscular male troop leader looked in my direction and started to walk towards me.
I make no conjecture about his motives. He may well recognize me by sight after 16 observations, or he just wanted to evaluate whether or not I had foods with me. As he drew closer he veered off, further towards the lair, on the pathway. Then, 21 more macaques descended to the forest floor and soon came out onto the path, all around me.
Three mangrove conservation workers arrived then, and used cut tree branches to frighten the monkeys into moving further away from the tiny mangrove saplings. The troop continued to move down towards the lair (though they seemed to maintain a non-hurried posture). If the monkeys were disturbed by the conservation team, they didn't react with much fright or any aggression.
For another 10 minutes I watched as the troop foraged and inspected motorcycles during their languid retreat.
My observation ended when they reached the lair (though, I could still see them easily I try not to "invade" their space in the lair).
My best guess now is that the mangrove restoration efforts adjust with the seasons. We're entering the hotter, drier season, which means less rainfall by volume. For mangrove saplings it's a critical time in their development and I believe more effort goes into daily care and protection of the young plants. This may account for a stern stance of restricting or manipulating the movement of the long tailed macaques. While the monkeys play a positive role in propagating fruit trees and flowering plants, they do pose a threat to the vulnerable mangrove seedlings (through physical damages, and prey selection of mollusks that keep mangrove roots safe from other invertebrates or parasites).
My opinion is that this is a cycle that occurs annually, and not a current effort to harm nor eradicate the monkey troop.
As always, I'll keep watching and learning.
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