A Mother Knows Best

It was nearing the end of a beautiful tropical day, and the sun was melting the Thai countryside forcing all visitors of Khao Sam Roi Yot National Park to seek shelter at the beachside huts or the climate-controlled visitors centre. The local wildlife seemed to understand the value of tourists and enjoyed the shade given from the man-made terraces. Some of the Longtail Langurs picked through the manicured lawns, while others laid in the shade made by a nearby bench. A few pestered some tourist’s mopeds, while others even managed to turn the tap on and take a much-needed drink. There were some young monkeys playing near the tree line shade, and the older male scaring off younger shade seekers and a cluster of monkeys grooming each other. This colony of comfortable langurs seemed at peace in the late day sun.

We parked away from the monkeys and searched out our own shade and refreshments. Tourists wandered around in front of us, seeking the shade at the bases of trees and park benches. Some of the tourists ran around playing tag, while others dealt with the pestering monkeys pulling at their mopeds. Some tourists stood together introducing the newcomers to the watering hole. As we ourselves found our own slice of shade to spend a restful moment, it was hard not to see the blatant similarities in front of us. The longtail Langurs held human like qualities and their human like features gave away personalities, but differences could be seen looking at the two populations. Both species came to seek shade, security and refreshments, both kept with their own, socializing and resting. Some of both species seemed to be in conflict by the mopeds, while some seemed to just watch the other species, looking at an evolutionary mirror reflecting vastly different lives back to the viewer.

I noticed a small male monkey, similar to myself sitting near a small shady shrub by the edge of the yard. He sat picking at the ground while watching the events unfolding. I noticed him, because like that curious monkey, I too was sitting on the edge by myself, watching as well. I wondered if the little curious langur shared by my interest and views, the chance to study two primates’ side by side. Our young unblemished view on society and our populations helped us see the larger picture of what was playing out, rather than being too overwhelmed with life and the chaos it brings, our young solitary selves could sit and look onward. I turned around to see the humans that my young male monkey counterpart could see. The more I watched made me realize what meant to be human. When looking at the humans with the same gaze, I could see the basic animalistic qualities that didn’t make humans sacrosanct. We were seeking shelter, refreshment, and safety. New individuals introduced themselves, while some of the younger people played. Species specific lines became blurred, and the definition of animal behaviours and human qualities became skewed.

Is what made that longtail langur humanlike, also what makes humans appear like animals?

We search out animal characteristics that remind us of ourselves, researching animals involving behaviours we see as human being front and centre. We add emotions and critical thinking to our animal counter parts, personifying them in any successful assignment. We praise animals for sounding human, walking upright, using a rock as a tool, proclaiming that they are doing human like tasks. We study animals and base their intelligence and self on our own checklist of qualifications. We consider animals unintelligent when they cannot meet our own based perception of intelligence, in the ways of judging a fish on its ability to climb trees. So, what is it to be human? Does our problem-solving tool use make us unique? If sea otters, ravens, or chimpanzees does tool use really separate us? How about our massive and complex communication? Prairie dogs can dictate shapes, colours and even directions to others, and some species of primates even learn other primate’s communication patterns to know of predators in the area. So, we focus on cognitive function to find our individuality as a species. We treat our relationships and our ability to love as this special human value. Even our ability to work together and the connections formed are not intrinsically human, as our relationships would pale when compared to the parental bonds of Orangutans or Orca Whales.

A large commotion broke out near the shallow drainage amongst the mangrove trees. The commotion turned langur and human heads alike, centering our collective gazes the disorder unfolding. In the chaos I noticed a female langur carrying her newborn child as she fled her attackers. Some langurs clearly didn’t like the young mother and baby, and they clawed at her trying to steal the newborn from her. With a strong pull of a tail the female hung over the water, unable to grab the next branch due to the baby in her arms. In front of us all was a mother stuck between the balance of protecting herself and her child. With attackers closing she let go of the branch, protected her young and fell into the muddy drainage below. This fall seemed to deter the attackers, unwilling to lose their tree top perches in their pursuit. This gave the mother the chance she needed to escape along the forest floor before finding her own tree to relax in. The love in the mother’s eyes is all what you need to know about the capacity for love in this other animal species. She had been willing to sacrifice herself for her young, sacrificing for the emotion of love. This wild animal had shown its true self with its compassion, love and care, all things often forgot about in the unrelenting wild. It was a perfect visualization for the diversity in animal qualities, the ability to love another over one’s self. A mother’s love doesn’t fall under human or animal behaviour, rather it is a connection shared by all species?

Who knows, I was just watching a few monkeys.