Ururabo's Baby: The Intervention

The gorillas had moved into a bamboo thicket by the time we were ready to treat Ururabo's infant. The dense vegetation offered plenty of good hiding places for darting, but the trackers felt the place wasn't safe enough for an intervention, especially given a 39-member group that includes five silverbacks. As they explained, the tall stalks give aggressive gorillas more confidence. We'd be safer in a clear area, where the four trackers could more easily surround the vet team and scare away any challengers.

Susa Group moves through the bamboo zone on the
start of the third week of the respiratory outbreak.

The gorillas had moved into a bamboo thicket by the time we were ready to treat Ururabo's infant. The dense vegetation offered plenty of good hiding places for darting, but the trackers felt the place wasn't safe enough for an intervention, especially given a 39-member group that includes five silverbacks. As they explained, the tall stalks give aggressive gorillas more confidence. We'd be safer in a clear area, where the four trackers could more easily surround the vet team and scare away any challengers.

We moved slowly through the bamboo, following our patient. No matter how we played it, at least one silverback, Igisha, would be nearby. He's very likely the father of Ururabo's baby; the three are often together.

Chief silverback Kurira leads the Susa Group gorillas.

I waited for my cue, listening to Elisabeth and Jean Felix talk back and forth with the trackers — Leonard, Antoine, Fidel and John Bosco. They asked me to hold off firing the dart until the situation improved.

The chief silverback, Kurira, seemed to be leading his group out of the bamboo and into a clearing studded with celery. The trackers hoped he would lead the gorillas out of the bamboo zone entirely, perhaps leaving Ururabo far enough behind that we could do the procedure on the edge of the clearing without his noticing.

The time of day concerned me. It was already 2:00 p.m., I still had to get the dart in, and we needed a few hours of daylight for Ururabo to recover from the anesthesia. I couldn't tell from the clouds what the weather would do, but we didn't want this baby getting wet and cold.

Ururabo, coughing and listless, carries her limp infant the morning before intervention.

Thirty minutes later, I asked again. Our position wasn't perfect, but most of the gorillas had indeed moved off. For the most part, Ururabo was alone with her back to us. We were downhill from her and could hear Igisha eating bamboo shoots somewhere up the hill.

I stood just behind a fallen tree with Magda and Jean Felix to my right, shielding the dart gun from the view of any gorillas that might approach from that side. Elisabeth and the four trackers — each ready with a long stick — stood to my left. It was time. Everyone said OK.

The dart landed in Ururabo's left shoulder. She screamed, pulled it out, threw it to the ground and walked away from us up into the bamboo. Igisha charged out of the bamboo thicket, mouth open, canines showing.

We'd been lucky with interventions on Nyiramurema and Umoja; neither had made a noise. Not so today. Elisabeth and the trackers raised their sticks and yelled at Igisha. It worked — he turned away instantly and headed after Ururabo.

I couldn't see where she went, but I heard her cough once ahead of us. The anesthetic (medetomidine plus ketamine) works within minutes. We needed to find Ururabo quickly in case she fell asleep in a bad position, one that could make it even harder for her baby to breathe.

Igisha clued us in, charging when we turned toward the place where Ururabo sat with her back against several bamboo stalks, her head hanging down, the baby in her lap, eyes and mouth open.

Then the silverback's screaming resumed. People yelled to move Igisha. He screamed at us; I called to the trackers to keep trying. We had to get in there.

Drs. Lucy Spelman and Magdalena Braum with Ururabo under anesthesia.

There was no easy way to move the mother gorilla out of her cage of bamboo. I calculated that in the time it would take to squeeze her through the tall stalks and move her to a wider, more open area. She's big, about 90 kilos (200 pounds), and bamboo surrounded us. I decided we'd stay put and keep going. The most important thing was to get antibiotics into mother and baby.

Magda and I squeezed in with Ururabo, working fast to give our patients their vital medicine while everyone else tried to scare off Igisha. I glanced up to see the shadow of the silverback a bit farther away. We continued, repositioning Ururabo a little so that more of us could work around her. Igisha moved farther away. Magda started swabbing noses and mouths. Jean Felix knelt at an impossibly awkward angle and collected blood samples from Ururabo.

Ururabo's baby undergoes treatment for presumptive secondary bacterial pneumonia.

I checked the mother's vital signs (heart rate 70, respiratory rate 40, oxygen saturation 100 percent) — all good — and then tried to assess the baby. He was alert but weak, his gums pale and his breathing labored. He rasped and wheezed at a rate of about 100 times a minute. I couldn't even hear his heart rate well enough to count, nor did I try for very long. We could reposition him, even turn him over, but I didn't want to cause more stress just to get a number. Meanwhile, the baby's positioning was perfect, inside his mother's arms.

I could see daylight ahead. Once the lip biopsy of Ururabo's herpes-like lesion was finished, we could reverse her. I glanced up, looked past Elisabeth, and saw only Antoine sitting quietly among the bamboo stalks. Igisha had left.

Magda re-assessed the baby's hydration: his skin tented. She estimated him to be at least 7.5 percent dehydrated. She'd already given him a syringe-full of fluids subcutaneously, but wanted to give more. While she did that, I tried to get a blood sample from the baby. But the tiny veins running down his legs were just too small. To get a sample from a larger vein would mean restraining him, and that might kill him.

Ururabo anesthetized for treatment and sample collection.

Just then, Ururabo moved an arm. As anticipated, our anesthetic was wearing off 40 minutes after I'd given it. We quickly cleared away our gear and I gave the mother gorilla one last injection — the reversal drug. Our team backed off and checked on her every few minutes. Twenty minutes after the reversal, Ururabo appeared well recovered — sitting up, holding her baby and grooming it.

At this point we should have been smiling. Instead, we felt stressed. Susa Group had moved at least a kilometer away. Ururabo would have to find them on her own. Had she been too young to survive a night apart from the group, we might have anesthetized her again and carried her to them — but only if we'd had enough light left in the day and enough people to make such a move safely. Our only option now was to follow her slowly and, by our presence, encourage her to move in the right direction if she chose the wrong one.

Magda and Jean Felix left to process samples, while Elisabeth and I stayed with the trackers. Part of me wanted to leave, too. I also had the sense that Ururabo might not want us around anymore, but the trackers preferred to stay with her for at least another hour.

Ururabo follows a Susa Group trail two hours after awakening from anesthesia.

Ururabo picked up a fresh gorilla trail and moved in exactly the right direction. I felt a bit energized. But she was in no rush; she stopped several times to rest, then to eat. We heard the main group squabbling over food, a welcome sound — they were within earshot! Ururabo would certainly head in their direction. But no, she wandered about, going toward them generally, but in anything but a straight line.

About an hour later, Ururabo disappeared into a stand of trees, a good place for a night nest. When the trackers tried to check her location she charged, mouth open, teeth bared. She'd had it with us and wanted to rest. I felt the same way — exhausted. We left, planning to return the next day with two teams: one to find Ururabo and one to check on the rest of our potential patients.

To be continued...

[Rwanda, 2008. Pictures: Dr. Lucy Spelman/MGVP]

Comments

[thomas martin]

The DRC is not safe. Every species must have diversity of area. How about a breeding colony in Tasmania? Or a part of Hawaii? Take 50 individuals there to preseve the species before they are gone. Real soon. Thomas.

[Lynn Z]

Thank you Dr. Lucy for sharing this adventure! I am so thankful for what you do for the Mountain Gorillas. God bless, stay safe.

[Shelly Knapp]

Hi Dr. Lucy and team ~ I learned about the project through Drew Nichol, who had invited Dr. Cranfield to make a presentation (which was outstanding)in Bellevue, Washingtion, US. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am for the work that you and the team are doing. I'm deeply moved by your dedication and commitment to these amazing gorillas. At this point, the extent of my support is sharing information about the project with family and friends. I'm exploring other ideas as well, perhaps, for example, joining Jane Goodall's Roots & Shoots for inspiration from great ideas that folks have already come up with for awareness and fundraising projects. Peace and blessings to you and the team. Shelly

[Julie Stuckey]

Hi Dr Lucy & team. I just want to say thank you. Thank you for caring and for having the courage to do the right thing. I know your work is dangerous and you anyway. You guys are my heros! The great mountain gorillas might be really be able to survive with help from good people like you.
THANK YOU SO MUCH!

[Shelly Campbell]

I am very concerned about the Chimps and Gorillas, Thank God for people like you that are out there fighting against all odds to save these magnificant creatures. If there were one thing on my life I would go back and do over it would be to become a vet that works strictly with primates, my dream is to have my own animal sanctuary/ If it is meant to be it will happen, I can not imagine having a job where I can be working with and helping animals 24/7. I really hope you can get the gorillas used to masks and make it mandatory that everyone wears a mask when visiting and or helping the gorillas. I know when people at work are sick I want to wear a mask, I am sure if the Gorillas knew that it would save them from catching this dreadful illness, they would want to wear one also!!! Thank you Shellynapp for sending me the information to this site, I have not done anything since but try and get caught up on the happenings with the Mountain Gorillas, that is of course after I check on the Cle Elum 7, thry come first when I wake up in the morning to when I walk in the house in the evening! GOD BLESS THE PRIMATES AND KEEP THEM SAFE FROM HARM !!!!

[Shelly Campbell]

Sorry that was Thank You Shelly Knapp :)

[sumie]

Good Job. I really admire your service and contribution.
________________________________________________________
Sumie
http://www.drug-intervention.com/purpose.html