Magayane Performs Her Own Surgery

Magumu, a subadult female, is missing all four fingers on
her right hand due to an old injury — probably a snare.

Three weeks after we removed Magayane's snare (see Snare Scare) I made a return visit to Kwitonda Group to check on her recovery. Sadly, she's one of dozens of mountain gorillas maimed by traps set by poachers. Some have been patients of MGVP at one time or another. Others were injured before the groups were habituated for tourism. In this family, there are two other gorillas with noticeable old injuries: Magumu, another young female, is missing four fingers on her right hand.

Nyiramurema is missing her left foot due to an old injury — probably a snare.

Nyiramurema, Umoja's mother, has no left foot, though she compensates extremely well. She and Magumu, along with Magayane and the rest of the Kwitonda Group, moved from DRC to Rwanda a few years ago. We don't know for certain what happened to them before their arrival, but it's likely they encountered poachers. When gorillas fight, they tend to inflict deep lacerations that leave a scar, rather than a neatly severed digit or limb. Kwitonda himself has two bent fingers on one hand and is missing a finger tip on the other — he could have been caught in a snare or involved in a fight. Both would have been reasons to move.

After an easy half-hour's walk into the park the trackers found the gorillas just waking up. Within minutes the entire Kwitonda Group had disappeared within an enormous vine-covered tree. The combination of low light and leaf shadow made it impossible to see much of anything. Craning my neck and squinting, I could see only the dark outline of the silverback about two-thirds of the way up. The trackers spotted Magayane's head at one point, but there was no way I could see her fingertips. Not to worry — no tree lasts long with 16 gorillas in it.

Magayane favors her left hand, injured by a snare three weeks earlier.

The trackers led me around to the other side of the tree, anticipating where Magayane would appear next. She's usually somewhere near the younger gorillas, grooming or playing with them. It wasn't long before the infants and juveniles slid out of the tree, hanging onto branches until they gave way, then tumbling to the ground. Kwitonda followed with three females, including Magayane. The group sat down in a small clearing for a grooming session. I didn't need binoculars to see that her finger was in worse shape than I’d expected.

A close-up view of Magayane's injured finger.

Pale white tissue — dead bone — protruded from the end of Magayane's left middle finger. I nearly said "Ouch" out loud. The trackers had reported earlier that although Magayane's damaged finger looked a bit swollen and discolored, she was eating well and acting normally otherwise. They hadn't seen the exposed bone until today. Magayane favored her injured hand, but she also seemed to be functioning pretty well. I watched her groom Umoja; she simply held her sore fingers out of the way. Then she rolled over on her back to rest.

Obviously the snare had damaged the superficial structures of her middle finger — the skin and nail — as well as deeper ones, cutting off the blood supply to the bone. The quickest way to resolve this problem was surgical amputation. On the other hand, gorillas recover fairly quickly from digit injuries and Magayane had a good chance of healing without complication, and without another intervention procedure. If infection set in, we'd reconsider. There was no reason she should lose more of her hand than she had already.

The next morning, Elisabeth and I returned to the group. When we got our first close look at the damaged finger, Elisabeth reacted as I had the day before — she raised her eyebrows and suppressed an exclamation. The wound didn't look any worse to me. In fact, it looked a bit better. I could see healthy pink tissue at the base of the exposed bone instead of the crusty dark tissue from the day before.

Magayane treats her own wound.

Elisabeth reminded me that gorillas spend a lot of time treating their own wounds. They'll pick at a wound to help keep it clean, and others will join in. Just at that point, Magayane lay down on the ground near us and put her finger in her mouth. This time, I did say "Ouch," and added, "Yikes! That must hurt." We could see that the end of her finger, the bone segment called P1, was somewhat mobile. That was a good sign, though it must be giving her a lot of pain. The sooner this piece disarticulated and fell off, the better.

We watched the gorilla work on the wound with her tongue and teeth. She was trying to break through the strands of tissue holding the joint together -- a strategy identical to surgical amputation, though we of course would use a scalpel blade or a scissor to cut the ligaments. I whispered to Elisabeth that Magayane no longer needed us vets. She’d needed us to get the initial snare off, but from here on, taking care of the injury was well within her abilities.

Magayane used the fingertips of her right hand to pick at the wound for a while, then put the injured finger back in her mouth. Fascinated by her behavior, I decided that this case was worth monitoring every few days or so until it resolved, so that we could photo-document the progress. Had Magayane been a nervous gorilla, this wouldn't have been possible. The movements and range of the Kwitonda Group also made tracking her relatively easy.

Jean Felix visited next and reported that the bone was still there. I went again the next day, hoping that Magayane — and time — had finished the job. On my way up to the park, I picked up several of the trackers in our truck. I often give them a ride when we join them for a monitoring visit. After saying good morning, I asked about the finger. The answer: "Tombe" ("fallen" in French). Finally, the tip had fallen off. The surgery was over.

Sulubika, a juvenile in Kwitonda Group, helps Magayane clean her wound.

Not only did Magayane continue to treat the wound on this day, several other gorillas joined in. Sulubika seemed particularly interested. Grooming is a huge part of gorilla social life, and treating wounds is simply a part of this natural behavior. So none of what I was seeing was new to the gorilla experts. It was just a new experience for me. The gorillas need the vets for some problems — removing snares or treating pneumonia, for example — but not for others.

Watching Magayane perform her self-treatments, I couldn't help comparing her physical toughness and pain tolerance to those of a human. The sight of her working at the fingertip made me cringe; yet five minutes later, she'd be asleep, playing or eating. On one occasion, after finishing a treatment, she paused to look around. Raising her body on one elbow, the gorilla stretched out her arm and rested her injured hand on her knee. Someday, I'd like to send that photo to the poachers.

[Rwanda, Sept. 20, 2007. Pictures: Lucy Spelman/MGVP]

Comments

[sheryl]

Thanks for another great lesson about the gorillas, Dr. Spelman. I must agree, that looks insanely painful. I do admire their ability to bear pain and heal themselves.

It's also good to know that the gorillas in Rwanda have relative safety, at the moment. I hope that continues. Some of us who post here are following the events in DR Congo very closely, and every day the news is sad.

s.

[Lisa]

Amazing report and outstanding pictures to go with it. Thank you so much Dr. Spellman. That finger does look awfully painful, but at least she doesn't need more intervention and seems to be dealing with it very well by herself. The poachers should get more than just that picture sent to them, that's for sure! Lisa, California

[Annie]

Wow what survivors they are! So humanlike it is amazing!!!!! Thank you for sharing this story!

[Annie]

Wow what survivors they are! So humanlike it is amazing!!!!! Thank you for sharing this story!