Most of you know I had a sighting as a child while I was picking up sticks in the woods with Mom. At the time, I didn’t understand Mom’s fear. Those “big, hairy creepy people” didn’t look much different than my father and his hippy friends.
In the late 70’s shortly after our sighting, Mom took me to the B&I shopping Mall in Tacoma. There, in the back of the store in a dirty, glass-fronted enclosure, was a gorilla named Ivan. I remember looking at him and wondering why he wasn’t in the back yard with the rest of them. In my child’s mind, I made no distinction between THAT big, hairy guy with the sad eyes and the creatures we saw on the trail to the river. I just felt bad for him. His “home” was tiny, ugly and it stunk. He couldn’t smell the breeze or feel the sun on him.
I was too young to understand what I was seeing in either case… and would give anything to go back to the moment of our sighting NOW, with an adult’s observational skills. To understand what I was seeing.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what happens if Bigfoot is “discovered”. I’m going to attempt to avoid opening the kill/no-kill debate for discussion here, because it tends to get heated. Suffice it to say that I’ve spent 20 years of my life trying to understand something I saw as a child, – something which was beautiful and moved me like nothing else has – and I have always been firmly against harming a Sasquatch to appease our own curiosity or “for their own good”.
But let’s fast forward and consider what happens if Bigfoot is proven to exist, no matter how that occurs. What then?
At Beachfoot, Dr. Robert Pyle and I were discussing the “human/ape” question. When I asked Tom Steenburg whether he leaned more toward human or ape, Bob spoke up and said that he thought it was a moot point… that the line between ape and human is a gradient and it would likely fall somewhere along there. I understood what he meant, but I feel the distinction is entirely relevant, and knowing WHERE on the gradient these creatures fall is of the utmost importance. Let me explain why.
First of all, it matters in field research. When a researcher goes traipsing into the field, do they approach the subject as a wildlife biologist… or an anthropologist? Are their actions fueled by the belief that they’re searching for an animal? Or are they tailoring their research techniques to find and interact with something closer to, say, a group of aboriginal humans? The distinction could produce vastly different results.
And if “discovery” does occur, who has jurisdiction? Who will enforce protection? Would the Sasquatch ultimately be protected under the Endangered Species Act… or instead have its rights protected by the ACLU and the US Constitution as we do?
A dead body on a table may indicate to us that their DNA is surprisingly close to ours. However, chimpanzees are said to share 95-98% of our DNA, but that hasn’t stopped humans from sticking them in tiny cages and using them for medical research… or entertainment.
That’s why the “we need a body” argument is seriously short-sighted, in my opinion. (OK, I said I wasn’t going to go here… but here I am. I’m sorry. I can’t talk about this without going here.) Very few people seem to be thinking beyond the body lying on a slab. So you’ve got a body. Great. Now what? You can dissect it, discover where its liver and pancreas reside. You can study its hands, the morphology of its feet. You can slap its brain on a scale and marvel over the brain size.
But in the end, do we know what Sasquatch IS? We’ve proven THAT they are, but do we really know WHAT they are? Have we observed them interacting with one another? Have we studied them in their natural environment? Do we know whether they have language, culture, reason, forethought, logic, emotion, self-awareness? Probably not.
So the body is lying there on the table. Those who value and wish to safeguard the creatures on this earth will be up in arms and want legislation to protect them. BUT WHO WILL PROTECT THEM? What will that legislation entail? Who will ultimately have jurisdiction?
Imagine for a moment the ensuing fight over the scientific findings of that corpse. Will the presence of a hyoid bone be enough evidence to support the idea that they use language and therefore should be given the same rights as humans? Or will they be classified as a bipedal ape simply because they’re hair-covered and have a robust skeletal structure… and therefore be fodder for zoos or medical experimentation? For how long will the autopsy results be mired in scientific semantic and bureaucratic red tape… meanwhile, their existence has been proven and nothing is in place to protect them?
From US.
It’s 1991. I’m at the Wichita Zoo in Kansas and I’m approaching the gorilla enclosure, holding my breath. I haven’t seen a live gorilla since the Ivan at the B&I. There is a large male right at the front of the glass enclosure. I sit down in front of him, hoping to make eye contact… to understand. To see what’s there.
He won’t look at me. In fact, he’s ignoring everyone. All the shouting children, the cacophony of human voices echoing off the cement walls, the other gorillas in the enclosure. He’s playing with a pile of something thick and liquidy in front of him, drawing in it slowly on the concrete floor of the enclosure with a finger that is big, black… but looks very much like mine. I’m fascinated.
Suddenly, he reaches out, scoops up the puddle, puts it in his mouth, swallows it… and vomits back onto the floor. I watch him with confusion. He draws in the vomit again, his movements slow and defeated. He scoops it up again, swallows it… and vomits again.
I hear a child behind me say, “Oh, GROSS, Mom… he’s puking and eating it!”
He repeats this, over and over again, until I can’t bear to watch anymore. He never looks at me.
I left the zoo that day with tears streaming down my face. I didn’t feel entertained. I didn’t feel educated. I felt sick.
Back to the B&I. Ivan, apparently, had been living in that glass and concrete enclosure for almost 15 YEARS by the time we walked into the department store. He was imported by the owner of the store from Zaire in 1964.
Ivan would spend another 17 years – a total of 31 years – in his 14′x14′ enclosure.
In 1995, PAWS finally got him released to Zoo Atlanta.
You can read the full story – and see Ivan enjoying the breeze AND the sunshine – or what he can enjoy from the confines of a zoo – here.
He also, apparently, has found love.
A quick search on YouTube.com of “gorilla eating puke” nets a wealth of videos of same. (Go ahead. Click the link and have a look…)
Normal digestive function? Or compulsive behavior due to being confined?
“Behavioral stereotypies have been associated with frustrated feeding motivation in confined animals fed nutritionally complete but diminutive meals and may contribute to the performance of regurgitation and reingestion (R/R) in captive gorillas [Lukas, 1999].”
http://www.nagonline.net/Articles/ZooBiology/primate%20issue/Gorilla%20Regurgitation.pdf
According to zoos.org, regurgitation and reingestion has never been observed in wild gorillas.
I can hardly wait to sit and watch a Sasquatch eating its own vomit.
The Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund supports conservation and protection programs through anti-poaching, regular monitoring, research, education, and support of local communities in Rwanda and Congo. Donations are tax deductible.
