The oldest gorilla in the world--a female--who happens to live in the Berlin Zoo just turned 66 years old. It was all over the news. The zoo celebrated her birthday by delivering branches filled with a large assortment of fruits, vegetables and watermelon (with a big 66 carved into it), a selection like she might find in the wild, if she were on her own and one day was very lucky and hit the jackpot. Ha. Ha.
The remarkable thing about Fatou was, indeed, her age. Most gorillas live to be about 35 years old and can live to be 50. So Fatou is beating the odds. In 2022 Ozzie, the oldest living male gorilla was 61 years old when he died in captivity.
Sometimes that's all Chucky needs to hear--a captivating animal in captivity story--to get his heart racing.
"No, Chuck. We are not flying to Berlin to meet Fatou."
Imagine the Rascal Cat pouting.
"Gorillas either need to live in the wild or they need to be behind glass in captivity."
More pouting.
Dan intervenes at this point. "The closest gorillas I know live at--"
Before I can shush him, the proverbial cat is out of the bag. We are on our way to the Philadelphia Zoo to meet the infamous gorilla family. There are five of them, and there is always a crowd. Dad and mom and three "kids," younger gorillas who have come from all over and are now part of this wonderful, sprawling gorilla family.
You can watch them in their inside quarters--behind glass. Or when they're outside, you can watch them hang around outside--behind glass.
Unfortunately, the glass is usually smudged with the fingerprints of kids who point and press their noses up to get a closer look.
Gorillas spend a lot of time sleeping. So when they're active, it's a real treat. Of the five, the most impressive is Motuba. He's the dad and the one Chuck becomes instantly obsessed with.
When I've been at this zoo before, Motuba has been sleeping. The younger gorillas swing around. They jump from place to place. Basically entertain the people that come to visit. But Motuba sits in a corner. And sleeps. Or looks for something to eat.
This time, and maybe because Chucky wants it so much, Motuba saunters right over to where we are standing behind glass (waiting for something to happen) and plops down in front of Chuck.
Motuba is massive. I can see right away Chuck is impressed. Dan holds Chuck up so that Chuck can get a good look at him. Chuck has a million questions and there's no one better to ask than Dan, semi-genius.
"Gorillas eat plants, mostly," he explains to Chuck. "And they love to eat. In fact, they can eat all day long." (Chuck can definitely identify with that.)
"How strong are they?" I ask.
"They are four to five times stronger than people. An adult gorilla is about 4 1/2 feet tall, but they have long arms. A girl gorilla's arms are 6 1/2 feet long. A boy gorilla's arms can be 8 feet long."
I ask the question that is on my mind. "Are they dangerous?"
Dan shakes his head. "Actually, gorillas are quite shy and reserved. They attack people only if they feel threatened. Usually they will roar first and do a make believe charge to scare you before they attack."
I have to admit, they are fascinating to watch.
They are like us in so many ways. They live in family groups. They hang around with each other, cozy up to each other. They use tools. They laugh, and they grieve.
I remind Chuck that Koko was a female gorilla in captivity who learned 2,000 words in sign language so she could communicate.
When it's time to leave and go to another exhibit, Chucky doesn't want to go. I get nervous. Chuck usually has a plan, a scheme.
"We can't stay here all day."
Chuck meows.
"Oh, no. We can't take Motuba with us. He has his family. This is where he lives. There's no such thing as adopting a daddy gorilla."
Chuck looks too forlorn for words. I hate disappointing the kid, but there's no way I'm bringing home a 600 pound gorilla. I have to think fast. I casually glance at my watch. "Isn't it time for your snack?"
That's one thing Chuck and Motuba have in common. Eating all day long. Chucky's eyes light up. Reluctantly he leaves. Well, not that reluctantly. But before he goes, Chuck puts his face right up to the glass and waits. Sure enough, Motuba glances over and tilts his head, as if trying to figure out why Chuck looks so different from every other kid who's there.
Later I say to Chuck, "You might have been the first cat Motuba ever saw. Imagine that."
PS If you happened to read last week's blog, Rascal Chuck's Favorite Snake, you'll want to know Chuck's choice for the snakiest snake:
The Green Anaconda
