IN the Htamanthi wildlife sanctuary, on the eastern bank of the Chindwin River -- northern Myanmar -- a little monkey looks wary. Rain clouds form on the horizon, and as they swell, the Hoolock Gibbon becomes edgier. Suddenly, thunderclap bursts and the frightened animal darts into the arms of his caretaker, hiding his little head deep into his bosom.
That happens every time the rain comes, explains Naw Kaung, a project assistant from Wildlife Conservation Society-Myanmar Program.
The little creature was named Valentine by the caretakers as he arrived to the sanctuary on February 14th – Valentine’s Day. A few days earlier, Valentine too was with the person he loved most: his mother. As he was suckling in the wild, hunters attacked and killed her. Rain, too, poured that day.
“[Valentine] looked fearful when he first arrived at the sanctuary. After a month of care, he would look normal on an ordinary day. But when dark clouds gather, he becomes reckless and runs in fear, looking for shelter into someone’s bosom, no matter how far his caretaker is from him,” says Naw Kaung.
Naw Kaung and his colleagues traced the cause of his trauma by interrogating the people who brought Valentine to the sanctuary. Since then, they have tried to help the monkey overcome his fears. They surround him with kindness and warmth, pat him on the head when the clouds form and even allow him to sleep near humans. Valentine is showing signs of recovery and is becoming a clever little gibbon, but overcoming such a traumatic experience might take years. In fact, it might always resonate deep inside him.
Mary, a baby elephant, had a similar fate. She was in the bosom of her mother when the latter was poached for her skin last December in the Ayeyarwady Region. Mary was found wandering around with a herd of cows about five kilometers from her mother’s body.
The orphan calf arrived at the Forest Department on Christmas Eve. The department’s staff named her Mary (For some reason, caretakers seems to be Catholic in this part of Myanmar). The calf was transferred to the Winga Baw Elephant Conservation Camp where she joined the seven orphan elephants the camp has received since it’s opening in 2016.
Mary escaped because the poachers thought her skin wouldn’t be sold for much. It wasn’t worth the effort to take it off her. Instead, they let her wander off, alone and frightened.
In the past, poachers mostly targeted male elephants for their tusks and the issue of orphans were rare. Now, demand for elephant skin in China is shooting up, and the number of orphans knocking at sanctuary doors becomes deafening.
“The other young calves with their mothers in the camp are cheerful and playful. Mary was quiet,” says U Myint Soe, who is running the camp. Wild elephants have problems adapting to their new life and heal.
The loss of a mother is traumatic for domesticated calves too, but other female elephants can take care of them. Finding a surrogate mother for a wild calf is more complicated, as they have habits and instincts an elephant who has lived in captivity may not understand.
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