Two mother gorillas with their infants from Group 13 scale a steep slope on Sabinyo volcano, Rwanda.
During a routine health check to Group 13 in Rwanda last week, I focused my attention on several mother gorillas and their infants. We found the gorilla family foraging high up on the east side of Sabinyo volcano. One mother followed another, some holding their infants in the crook of an arm, others carrying them on their back. One 2.5-year-old walked just behind his mother. The gorillas easily climbed a lichen-covered slope of rocks.
Turiho in Group 13, Rwanda; her infant is hidden behind the vegetation.
We followed until the group gathered for a brief rest period. Two mothers with young infants no more than 4 months old sat down next to each other in a small clearing. The tracker, Eric, looked at me with raised eyebrows to see if I knew who was who. I correctly identified Turiho, but drew a blank on the name of the other mother. Ah yes, Intambwe, I thought when Eric whispered her name. I should know her, having visited the day her baby was born. But nose prints still elude me. Turiho has long eyelashes and a delicate face; that's why I remembered her.
Two mothers in Group 13
The infants woke up and began squirming as they usually do when the mother rests. At first I could see only the tops of their heads. Then each mother sat back a bit and lowered her arms, giving the infants room to move. Turiho peered at Intambwe's baby and vice versa. I watched the hand movements of the tiny gorillas, comparing them in my memory to those of Ntobo's infant, who continues to appear strong and healthy despite the hair wrapped around his fingers. He's also several weeks younger.
Intambwe's infant in Group 13, about three weeks older than Ntobo's infant in Bwenge Group
Neither of the Group 13 infants pushed their bent wrists up into their mothers' armpits the way Ntobo's does. Both opened their hands and digits when they stretched out their arms. They nursed and bounced around a bit, as I've also seen Ntobo's infant do. They've doubled in size since I saw them in December, two months ago. Ntobo's infant is also growing. I've been checking him for three weeks, and he's noticeably bigger each time I see him.
Herd of buffalo near Bwenge Group, Rwanda
Monitoring Ntobo's infant has been a challenge. Getting a clear photograph of tiny fingers is difficult under any circumstances, but Bwenge has kept his group high among the brambles in a steep area dense with vegetation known as the backside of Busumba One, where there's lots of preferred food right now — thistle, berries and berry leaves, gallium and wild celery. The trackers also report that the silverback prefers to stay clear of the buffalo. This makes sense to me, given how many of the huge animals we saw the other day.
Nzeli's right foot continues to heal, though she walks gingerly.
Trekking is part of the job. I've learned that by keeping my mind clear and watching exactly where I put my feet, I can avoid most hazards on the main trail up to Karisimbi. But once we branch off to follow the gorilla's trails, I find myself thinking about the patients — Ntobo's infant and also Nzeli, recovering from her foot injury. Will they be better or worse today? Distracted, I inevitably slip on the wet plants and uneven ground. It's always a relief when we approach the group: even if the gorilla viewing isn't great, we can at least slow our pace, giving me time to avoid the thorns.
Ntobo's infant in Bwenge Group on Feb. 24, 2008.
I've spent a long time reviewing the pictures Elisabeth and I took of Ntobo's infant during the last three weeks. Now I'm beginning to think he may have tendon contraction in his hands and wrists, a form of birth deformity. This isn't a genetic defect but a congenital one, a problem that may have resulted from his body position inside the uterus. Alternatively, he could simply be guarding his painful hands. It's one of those chicken-and-egg questions to which we'll probably never find a definitive answer. Meanwhile, he continues to nurse and appears healthy otherwise.
Nzeli's foot two and a half weeks after the initial injury
I continue to feel glad I gave Nzeli the penicillin to halt infection in her foot. As expected, she still cannot walk normally almost three weeks after the injury and the group regularly waits for her to catch up. The dense vegetation and her improved condition have made photography of her feet even more difficult, but Nzeli usually takes at least one rest an hour — feet up. In the case of Ntobo's infant, we don't plan to intervene unless his hand shows signs of increased swelling or his overall behavior changes.
The sore right hand of Ntobo's infant
The camera is an invaluable monitoring tool in the field, but light and distance can affect the results. The middle fingers on the right hand of Ntobo's infant look worse in some photos than in others, while depigmented areas of skin on his fingertips (normal) make the swelling more prominent in bright light. In reality, the condition is unchanged and from every angle the tissue of the skin and fingernails shows no sign of breaking down, which means circulation is adequate. He also uses the hand, though it must be very sore.
Ntobo's infant on Feb. 24, 2008, almost 10 weeks old.
Naturally, we all wish we could just grab the infant, cut the hair off his fingers, and give him back to his mother! If the problem were human-induced or life-threatening, we wouldn't hesitate to intervene, even though that would mean anesthetizing the mother in the presence of a protective silverback. But our mission is to tend to a population of animals managed "as wild," and for now if the problem is considered naturally occurring and not critical, we can only watch and wait. Our checks continue.
[Rwanda, Feb. 24, 2008. Pictures: Dr. Lucy Spelman/MGVP]
Comments