ANECDOTE | EDUCATION | ANIMAL ADVOCACY
I Was Attacked by a Macaque, And it Was my Fault.
How trauma in captivity can affect animals long-term
Some years ago, I volunteered with monkeys in India who had been rescued from situations where their welfare was threatened. Illegally poached from the wild, some monkeys had been used as pets, while others were injured or orphaned youngsters requiring care. Others had captured by people who forced them to entertain tourists.
While the use of monkeys in performances is banned in India, the practice still continues. Captive monkeys may be dressed in costumes, chained up by their handlers and forced to perform, and their poachers may charge tourists to have their photo taken with the animals. To control them, their handlers may remove the monkeys’ teeth, and may beat them or deprive them of food.
Fortunately, I didn’t see any monkeys performing while I was in India. However, I did encounter several who had been rescued from tourism scenarios while I was volunteering with WHS Hicks ITC — an animal rescue organisation in the western state of Goa. Founders John and Jo Hicks were passionate about rescuing and treating a number of different species — including dogs, cats, cows and pigs — but were especially devoted to rhesus and bonnet macaques, as well as grey langurs, and kept many in large, leafy enclosures at their house amidst the forested Goan hinterland.
Visiting the Tree House
I was invited to visit John and Jo’s place — known as the Tree House — one typically humid afternoon after a morning’s work at WHS Hicks ITC’s nearby animal hospital. On my arrival I was immediately taken by two sights — the first, a large and inviting swimming pool, and the second, four people in the pool, swimming with macaques.
It wasn’t long until I was enjoying the cool water while watching the interesting interactions between John, Jo, their two friends (volunteers at the sanctuary) and their primate companions, and learned more about the macaques. Since their rescue, the animals had slowly regained their trust in humans. They were on long leashes to keep them from escaping while outside their enclosures, and were happily jumping from the pool edge onto people’s shoulders and floating around the pool on inflatable toys, sometimes shrieking as they did so.
I slowly edged towards the macaques. Having had no previous primate experience, I was a little unsure about handling them. But I had no choice in the matter; a young bonnet macaque named Baldrick had chosen my shoulders for his next jump, and I soon found myself cradling a small, cute bundle in my arms.
Encountering Baldrick
John explained that Baldrick was one of the few monkeys he’d rescued who was happy to be handled by women. Most — though they had likely been abused by men — appeared to still prefer that gender. But Baldrick seemed content in my arms, and I marvelled at the sight of his strangely human face and long, delicate fingers.
But my moment of calm with Baldrick didn’t last long. He was soon bored of being cradled in my arms, and jumped back onto my shoulder. He tugged at one of my ears, and let out a deafening shriek.
“No!” I said sternly, as if talking to one of my horses, who gets a bit pushy but listens when I tell him to stop. But Baldrick was no horse, and he did not like being told no.
Suddenly he leapt at my face, wrapping his arms around my head like the Facehugger in the movie Alien. As I tried to pull him off me, he dug in harder and shrieked louder, until with one huge tug I pulled him free and flung him onto the pool edge, where he landed on his feet and glared at me like I was his mortal enemy.
I could tell that the battle wasn’t over. Baldrick’s tiny frame grew larger, and I could tell he was about to leap onto me again. But as I quickly planned my next move — dive under the water? Run screaming? — John called to him in a commanding voice.
“BALDRICK.”
The shrieking Facehugger suddenly morphed back into a cute little monkey with a funny name, who was now climbing on John’s shoulder as if nothing had happened.
Trauma from past experiences
As I tentatively touched the scratches on my face and head, soothed by the fact that both I and the macaques were fully vaccinated against rabies, I listened as John explained that the monkeys were still traumatised from their past experiences, and could become aggressive if they felt threatened. It would take a long time for them to fully trust humans, and my forceful “no” had been enough to trigger a reaction from little Baldrick.
It was definitely not the first time I’d been scratched, bitten or otherwise harmed by an animal, so I quickly recovered and made my peace with Baldrick. I still don’t fully trust macaques, but I understand why a monkey who had been abused by people might attack anyone — no matter how well-meaning — who reminded them of their past life. Like all the animals I’ve met on my travels, my encounter with Baldrick taught me about the serious welfare issues affecting a particular species, and inspired me to learn more about their plight and how to help them.
If you’d like to help macaques and langurs, you can donate to The Primate Trust, or organise to volunteer at the Tree House while in India. You can also read more about the Tree House in Rachel Thomas’ article about volunteering with the sanctuary.
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Dr. Nikki Savvides is an Australian author whose writing focuses on animal advocacy and environmentalism. She’s passionate about improving the welfare and conservation of animals, specifically captive elephants in Thailand. With a PhD focused on the ethical potential of volunteer tourism, Nikki has over a decade of research experience connected to these issues.
Stay up-to-date on Nikki’s research and creative projects, by following her on Facebook and Medium. For more information on Nikki, her research, and elephant education, please visit her website.
