Ndakasi, an orphaned female mountain gorilla infant, chews on wild celery.
For the past several weeks, the Goma orphans have been our only active cases — and I'm glad to say they're both in good health at the moment. But everything changed a few days ago. I've been called to the forest urgently nearly every day this week. So far, we haven't had to provide medical treatment, but the week isn't over yet.
We heard late yesterday that a lone silverback had been injured badly during an interaction. If the trackers can find him, we'll be back up the mountain.
Silverback Guhonda in Sabinyo Group eats a huge root; his left hand was injured by a snare years ago.
The string of unexpected calls began on Monday, the day I was supposed to have an interview with correspondent Anderson Cooper for a CBS 60 Minutes story. I'd met with his production team over the weekend to provide background information and film the orphan gorillas at the Kinigi facility.
Our Rwandan field vet, Dr. Jean Felix Kinani and I were scheduled to talk to Anderson on Sunday afternoon about the role of veterinarians in gorilla conservation and we were looking forward it. At the last minute our interviews were rescheduled for Monday. I had a premonition that something would undo the plan. I was right.
In October and November, the Virungas tend to be misty
and wet during each day, but with clear and cold nights.
Back at the office, we had a quick staff meeting before my interview. Just as I prepared to leave, Elisabeth, the ORTPN vet tech, rushed in to say that trackers had reported a 2-month-old infant in Kuryama Group to be very weak. Our cell phones weren't working, so she'd come straight to the office.
With sick infants there isn't much time. Pneumonia is always on our differential list and it can kill them very quickly. It was already midday and by the time we reached the group we'd barely have time to intervene if that proved necessary. I grabbed an extra flashlight, remembering more than one very dark descent after a field emergency.
Segasira, a 2-year-old in Kuryama Group, had an episode
of choke several months ago that resolved quickly.
The trackers and vet team often chat as we hike up the mountain. We mix bits of English and French, and I try to learn a few new Kinyarwanda words. But when we know there's a potential patient up there, no one says very much.
My brain starts to churn and my pace quickens. I'll run through a mental checklist of questions: What is the most likely outcome based on what I know so far? When is the last time I saw this individual gorilla? Do we have everything we need with us? Should we have brought a thermos of hot water to warm the patient, even though it adds to the weight of our heavy bags? Will radios and cell phones work where we are going?
Umusatsi's infant appeared strong and active the next day.
After a brisk and anxious hike up to 3,000 meters (9,843 feet), Elisabeth and I had less than a quarter of an hour to observe the patient. The skies had begun to darken and Umusatsi, the infant's mother, had settled into a hole at the base of a tree, probably for the night.
I'd asked one of the Karisoke Research Center scientists, Winnie Eckardt, to observe the infant while we hiked. Although it had been reported earlier as limp and not nursing, Winnie saw it nursing twice in one hour. This news dialed our worry level way down, as did my first glimpse of the infant: it was wide-eyed, clinging to its mother's neck. Five minutes later, it fell fast asleep.
I hiked up the mountain again early the next morning with the Kuryama Group trackers for another look at Umusatsi and her infant. It had been a cold night, and if pneumonia was brewing, the baby could be in bad shape. On the other hand, if it had simply suffered a bout of colic the day before, it could be just fine today — and indeed, we found Umusatsi resting in warm sunshine while her infant made soft chirping noises and climbed all over her, nursing hungrily. This was the best news of the day, despite my frustration at having missed the Anderson Cooper interview (Simon Childs, who manages the orphan facility but is not a vet, did it in my place.)
Nzeli in Bwenge Group carries her dead infant on her back the day
after trackers found her with a new but lifeless baby.
Next day, after a morning of catch-up desk work, I learned of a new, sad case. Nzeli, a female in the Bwenge Group, had given birth on Wednesday morning. But the baby was dead when the trackers found her.
Theo Ngabo, who collects data for the Karisoke Research Center, had found some of the placental tissue. He rushed to our office with the sample and described what he'd seen in the field: Nzeli was weak, with a bloody vaginal discharge that left a trail of red spots on the ground as she moved. This is normal right after birth, but not if it persists. He didn't get a close look at the infant and was uncertain if it was full-term or premature. From Theo's description, it was clear we needed to check Nzeli and recover the dead baby if possible.
Nzeli continues to groom her dead infant, and may do so for up to three weeks.
When we reached Nzeli the next morning (after trekking up a different mountain), she was resting, holding a lifeless infant that appeared otherwise normal. This wasn't the first baby that Nzeli had lost. She and two other females had transferred from Pablo Group to Bwenge's new group last January after their infants died in the midst of a severe outbreak of respiratory disease. It seemed they'd left their old group for a chance at a new family. That was exactly nine months ago. So this new infant could be Bwenge's (gestation in gorillas is the same as in humans) — or not.
Over the next two hours Nzeli groomed the infant as she would if it were alive, then picked it up and carried it about as she foraged for food. When I returned to the lab, our microbiologist, Jean Paul Lukasa, gave me an update on the bacterial cultures from the placental tissue. He is growing a pure colony of a type of streptococcus; meanwhile we will also preserve the tissue for future analysis (histopathology).
These tests, plus a review of the cause of death of Nzeli's prior infants, might yield important information. There are also other female gorillas who have lost infants unexpectedly at an early age. Maybe there is a common factor.
Umusatsi's infant — strong and active.
At the end of the day, I discussed Nzeli's case with Jean Felix and Elisabeth and sent an update via e-mail to key partners at ORTPN and Karisoke. While it would be helpful to recover the carcass of the dead infant to do a necropsy, intervention to take it forcibly is not warranted. There's no evidence that the group is sick with something communicable. And since there are at least two other pregnant females in Bwenge Group, we don't want to risk causing them undue stress by anesthetizing Nzeli. Sometime in the future, however, we might recommend a full examination to evaluate her more fully.
Though we did hear good news at the end of the day — Umusatsi's infant continues to do well — there is now the fresh challenge of the injured silverback. We are waiting to hear from the trackers.
[Rwanda, Nov. 2, 2007. Pictures: Lucy Spelman/MGVP]
Dr. Spelman:
Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to share such detailed info on the gorillas. I'm happy to hear that Umusatsi's infant is well. Please keep us informed as to the condition of the silverback.
Thank you.
Pam/Shell Beach, CA
Posted by: Pam/Shell Beach, CA | November 12, 2007 at 11:53 PM