final group of gorillas on that mountain.

Bill tired of his towering stature constantly collapsing beneath angled stalks another time in the bamboo zone. A stray idea sent his head into a parodies of the Oscar Mayer theme tune, a cultural artifact from Madison, Wisconsin, home of the Oscar Mayer wiener from graduate school.

Oh, I wish I were a little small Mutwa; then, my back wouldn’t be hurting me. That is what I truly want to be.

After listening, Nemeye inquired as to why Bill was signing about a Mutwa, or pygmy. Bill clarified that, like a pygmy, he would feel much better if he were only five feet tall and free from continual bending over. Oddly, Nemeye became enraged at this answer. He said with much resentment that he most definitely does not want to be a pygmy as no white guy wants to be an African.

This sparked a fascinating conversation on human beginnings as we made our way up another steep canyon devoid of gorilla evidence. In Nemeye’s account, white people must have come first on Earth because they had most of the wealth and worldly commodities. The Tutsi came next, which helped to explain why they were the typical overloads from Rwanda and kept enjoying relative riches and position.

Like their forebears, Hutu farmers arrived later and discovered only the territory they could claim and use. Poor Twa, pygmies left to hunt in the wild arrived last. It was a revealing realization that changed the generally agreed upon flow of ethinic entry in the region-first Twa, then Hutu. Tutsi and European-minded on their head. Still, from Nemeye’s point of view, it also had obvious logic.

Big Nemeye kept his racial biases to himself if he had them. After generations of Tutsi control, he belonged to the sizable Hutu majority that suddenly ruled Rwandan politics. Hutu was about the only neighbor he had across the rich Virunga lava plain. He hunted Twa in the park and bought things from Tutsi vendors in Ruhengeri. Still, one of Nemeye’s best songs included the repeated refrain: I’m a Hutu, you’re a Tutsi, he’s a Twa –we’re all Rwandans. Though Bill became bored with the song, he valued its ecumenical lessons of ethnic unity.

Generally much more taciturn than their gregarious neighbors from Congo and Uganda, Rwandans do not have a practice of disclosing much about themselves. Though they are not bashful about asking outsiders questions, nights around the camp fire usually became “tell us about America” time for Nemeye and the camp guards.

Political concerns were not of much attention, but American women’s personalities and wardrobe perplexity piqued curiosity. Thus, purchasing property was a strange idea that was quickly permeating Rwandan life, particularly in the rich lava zone near the Virungas. As with the Apollo space program, mechanized farming, super markets, and super high-ways were prominent topics.

Still, moonwalks and landings were more readily approved than coin-operated vending machines. The greatest perplexity, head shaking, and laughing at the methods of the “abazungu” came from the notion that you could put pennies into a metal box and that food-sandwiches, hamburgers, fruit, hot and cold drinks-would drop into your hands. Bill found it difficult to explain all this, but it was a fun way to finish demanding field work before turning in for night.

On Sabinyo’s Eastern Slope, we discovered a small band of six gorillas, our fourth and last group. We followed their route from an exposed lava fin close to what we thought to be the unmarked boundary between Rwanda-Uganda. The idea that von Beringe may have aimed his rifle at gorillas on that same mountain in 1902 was unsettling.

We followed the route; making nest counts along the way and caught one quick glance at the group as they traveled gradually North West around the mountain. Clearly apparent below was the jagged line created by illicit farms invading the Ugandan border. We had spent a lot of time before counting gorillas in the Congolese portion of the Virungas, but operating without permission in Uganda was different.

Recently Idi Amini had failed in an attempt to seize the North West corner of Tanzania, and now Tanzanian soldiers were massing to retaliate. Radio Uganda was stating that the whole South West border needed constant alertness. Neither did we wish to be guests of president Amin, nor did we expect to see Ugandan military at ten thousand feet. We came back one more day to finish our nest counts, then stopped working in the Ugandan field.

A shockingly huge and active hyena population chorted and hunted about our base camp all through the night. At high altitude in a rain forest, this amazing aural experience came completely unexpected. Less favorable was a story we recently heard of a visitor in Kenya who slept in an open tent sporting his boots.

Attracted to the smell of leather, a hyena dragged him out by one boot at night and chopped his foot before it was driven off. It was not a comforting notion even if Bill slept with his boots on. Added to our worries about military operations, we slept little and was glad to go on in the morning.

Our final camp was on the Gahinga-Muhavura saddle; a group of Rwandan troops watched from a little tin cabin. Though it was unclear whether this represented the war situation over the border with Uganda, two hundred yards away, or their anxiety about animals in the park, they were tense. Though some appeared glad to have company, they were not a very outstanding bunch.

Now, even in Schaller’s day, we were in a part of the park that had never supported many gorillas. We still had to cover a lot of ground, however. Fortunately, Gahinga had relatively few significant ravines and its towering bamboo towers created cathedral-like arches much more accessible than the bamboo thickets to the West.

On Gahinga, at lower level, we did come across unusual mimulopsis trees whose high stilt roots were efficient at tripping weary legs. Although we discovered several ancient gorilla nests at multiple locations, there was no indication of passage within the last six months. But our very presence sent off volleys of piercing piao! From medium-sized golden monkeys (cercopithecus mitis kandti), a species native to the area whose golden cloak is as arresting as its call, alarms from local troops.

Muhavura would be our last challenge.

Our next task would be Muhavura.For Karisimbi in the West, its 13,540-foot cone provided for an almost ideal bookend. Fortunately, much of the Ugandan section was buried in a recent lava flow that could not sustain gorillas, hence we did not have to risk an armed confrontation. Though we did not have to run the military sort of danger, our quick trips into the Ugandan section revealed little evidence of animals.

Though we did hear hunters employing dogs with bells, our quick trips into the Ugandan section revealed little evidence of wild animals. From below, twice bullets rang out. Though its slopes were high, hiking atop Muhavura was not too challenging; there were no major vegetal or physical obstacles.

Much of the bulk of the mountain was above the tree line, where an open steppe type habitat predominated. Brilliant red and green long-tailed malachite sun birds raced manically around this alpine moorland, their long, thin beaks suited like those of humming birds to sipping nectar. Northern double-collared sun birds flashed their metallic green and purple plumage. Bushbuck also grazed here, but he soon barked and ran on sight.

One day we found no gorillas and went to investigate the peak. We had to crawl over a tangle of twisted, moss-covered alpine senecio, a woody shrub spanning many generations to a height of ten to twelve feet, near the summit. In what seemed to be the biggest natural jungle gym in the world, this entangling labyrinth stretched hundreds of yards.

Our prize for passing was a perfectly spherical crater lake on top of Muhavura. The lake was only twenty yards wide, its surface barely eighteen inches from the edge. Bill laughed as he bent to sip from the cold black sources at the top of the planet, wondering whether it ever over flowed. In seconds clouds arrived and disappeared.

Clear times allowed us to view crowned fields of Rwanda to the South and lakes far to the North in Uganda. With clouds returning, a cold seeped beneath our skins. As the day came to an end, we grudgingly abandoned our watering place.

On Muhavura, our only gorilla interaction also happened to be the final census count. Late in one day we came across new gorilla signs. After backtracking to do two nest counts, we went back to notify the group and finish our count the next morning. Seven people—one silver back, two adult females, another unsexed adult, and three juvenile gorillas—were verified present.

Leading down hill, the fresh track of crushed herbs would pass the yellowed bones of a jackal, its foreleg still in the deadly grasp of a poacher’s wire trap. Not far away, the gorillas were audible. Bill approached till he came across a hand reaching into a bush about twenty feet distant. Then he ascended a tree to expose an elderly female’s face seated in a day nest eating gallium.

She looks back for about a minute, moving her head back and forth and allowing time for a nose print from a harsh gaze with reddish brow. She then runs softly behind those headed forward.By 13:10, dread muck is everywhere.

Common behaviors of wild gorillas when faced by people were silent flight and diarrhea. They also let us know when to go alone and do our last nest counts.

We traveled carefully counter clockwise around Muhavura for four more days till we arrived at the open lava field along the Eastern slope near the Rwanda-Uganda border. In that time, we traversed and investigated sixteen ravines, several of which harbored good gorilla habitat. Still, we never saw another gorilla or any evidence of any other animal save birds.

On Mt. Karisimbi, at the very western extremity of the park, we had observed the same kind of vacant environment. This ensured that the number of gorillas could continue grow. However, it also meant that these areas remote from the headquarters of the central park were killing grounds controlled by poachers where gorillas had been slaughtered. We left the park and headed down to an ancient colonial home at Gasinza, close to the foot of Mount Muhavura, late afternoon.

Though the mansion required paint and the foundation was crumbling, its scale, stone arches, and panoramic vistas suggested a more magnificent past. Now Drs. Alain and Nicole Montfort called home here. Belgian ecologists Alain and Nicole loved the Akagera National park in Eastern Rwanda savanna-wetland complex with a mild, dry climate.

Alain hated the hostile Virunga surroundings, but during his short stay in the North he had worked to enhance park security and administration. Alain and Nicole, hosts, got initial unofficial census results as well as other news from the forest. Mostly however, we delighted in delicious cuisine, fine wine, and great company. Bill delighted to utilize his considerably better French vocabulary after weeks of practical Swahili.

Solving conservation issues is like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle for which the box has no picture; many components are missing and too little time to review all the surviving pieces. Our goal was to combine biological and social economic study to get the most comprehensive picture feasible. The census gave the initial bits to the very difficult jigsaw of how to better understand and safeguard the mountain gorillas.

Taking little over eight hours, the climb home from Gasiza to Karisoke covered around twenty-25 kilometers. There was plenty of time to consider what he had discovered and what it may entail for the gorillas. In 1959–1960 Georgr Schaller conducted the first Virunga census.A simmering civil conflict in Rwanda prohibited him from sampling certain locations, but his baseline figure of four hundred to five hundred people came from actual counts along with estimations based on habitat features.

A team of Karisoke scholars carried out the next census over three years, between 1971 and 1973.Their results revealed a sharp drop in average group size and proportion of young along with a corresponding fall in 300 to 275 gorilla count. Comparisons with the present figures swirled in Bill’s thoughts as he strolled over agricultural fields along the park boundary.

The good news was that, after its 1960s fast collapse, the population seemed to be stabilizing.Our lowest count was 252 people, which subsequently would be projected to represent 260,000 population.Better yet, the number of groups had dropped from thirty-one to twenty-eight, so we had discovered forty-two babies under three years old instead of only thirty-three in the same age class.

The bad news was that gorillas were clustering in the middle, particularly near Mount Visoke, and avoiding the Eastern and Western ends of the park. On Mt. Mikeno, where Schaller had tallied more than two hundred gorillas, there were only eighty-one.

Mts. Sabyinyo, Gahinga, and Muhavura backed only thirty-four gorillas in five groups. Objectively, it was at least a mixed message. Emotionally, it was a huge relief not to discover more losses, particularly in light of the tragic events of last year.

Beyond sabinyo.

On the outside fence of a house-hold compound or rugo, a brilliant red and yellow bloom was on show. Indicated that fresh sorghum beer had been produced just inside. Coming off an involuntary run of sobriety for the census, Big Nemeye homed in on the signal like a bee searching for honey.

Not too long thereafter, he had negotiated several large umusururu bowls for each of the porters as well as himself. The light brown liquid slid down their throats as naturally as the Kinyarwanda name of the beverage came out of their mouths. Bill turned down a suggested bowl due to his dislike of the beer’s accompanying sorghum chaff. With team morale better, we carried on Karisoke.

The usually lush soils of the Virunga pied-mont lost way at the foot of Sabyinyo to a hard lava pan. Hollow pounding noises revealed large natural caverns under our feet. Nemeye said without explanation that many of the locals hid and sometimes perished in these caverns during difficult times.

Above earth, the thin soils supported areas of grass between rocky outcroppings, giving herd boys in this area a rare chance to bury their cattle. Once we had passed, Bill expected the same cattle to migrate illegally into the park.

Beyond Sabyinyo the ground recovered to its natural richness and the soils sank. Lush rows of potatoes and beans reached the horizon, contrasting with big square areas of white pyrethrum blossoms. Against the height of the volcanoes, the scene seemed appealing. Only the sporadic Markhamia or Hagenia tree silently spoke to the fact that all of this land had been ripped from the park barely 10 years earlier.

When RACHEAL CARSON published quiet spring in 1962, Western human health and nature suffered.During the post-world war 11 chemical revolutions, DDT proved to be a strong pesticide. It let American and European farmers raise their fruit and vegetable harvests and considerably broaden their control over harmful insects. Pollinators and other helpful insects were also destroyed, however.

It crept stealthily up the food chain to poison frogs, fish, birds, humans. DDT was outlawed and the hunt for less harmful substitutes got underway when legislators at last paid attention to the scientific data. Already cultivating pyrethrum, a daisy-like flower with natural pesticide power, Kenya was Exports of pyrethrum surged as a new international market sought to fulfill.

But Kenya’s attempts to increase output run counter to its restricted high-altitude territory needed to produce pyrethrum. The park had greater high terrain habitat and Rwanda previously cultivated some pyrethrum in the Ruhengeri area for gorilla tracking.

Using funds from the European Development Fund and without an environmental impact study, the Rwandan government hurried forward with a project to increase pyrethrum output. Cleared from the Parc des Volcans in 1968 and 1969 were twenty-five thousand acres of low elevation forest habitat.

Five thousand households received five acre plots known as paysannats on which they were expected to keep forty percent of their land in pyrethrum. In a nation plagued by ongoing land scarcity, it was a popular initiative among Northern Rwandans even if top political leaders from the area grabbed vast amounts of the cleared land unlawfully.

Global demand for pyrethrum was already declining by the late 1970s. With shorter and less troublesome supply lines than those extending all the way to land bound Rwanda, Western scientists had succeeded in producing numerous less hazardous substitutes for DDT. Local farmers adjusted by producing more marketable and edible white potatoes and defying pyrethrum output limitations.

Too suited to the loss of habitat, gorillas moved higher up the mountain. But the gorillas were subjected to extremely freezing temperatures every night as the park boundary dropped to approximately nine thousand feet. Already a major cause of death, pneumonia kills much more of the extremely young, elderly, and unwell.

Though no one has ever documented how the gorillas had before utilized the area cleared for paysannats, it was evident that they had lost a portion of the forest rich in several of their favored foods including vast stretches of bamboo.

Standing at the conclusion of that day and feeling hopeful despite the encouraging census results was difficult. The scene around seemed as if humans had been living there for millennia. Still, forty percent of the Parc des Volcans 22 percent of the whole Virunga forest had been removed 10 years ago.

Mountains Gorilla habitat that had existed for millennia has vanished in a relative blink of an eye. Whatever the census figures indicated, it appeared doubtful that there was sufficient habitat remaining within the shrinking park limits for their survival.

Looking out over the field and thatched rugos that reached to the south as far as the eye could see, Pucked and Tucked sat shoulder to shoulder.
Amy could also see they were eating thistle from a better view point. But why had they come out of the park and risked approximately thirty yards across open ground to climb up that rocky hill?

Did they realize that among the ugly potatoes and pyrethrum was gorilla food hidden? Puck barely was nine, four years older than his sibling Tuck. Though both were too young to recall the region before to park clearance, both were still young enough to let curiosity to guide them on a reconnaissance trip into uncharted territory.

Amy had never seen any gorillas outside of the park gate before. Now all she could do was consider their motivations maybe in line with a rare clear day? And wait with some worry for them to return to the group. Puck and Tuck had completed their feast 10 minutes later, ambled over the gully between two rows of potatoes, and dropped back into the forest. They would not come back to the fields while we were there.

The 1970s saw quite unusual use of conservation research.Nearly all of the few individuals dedicated to long-term field research in African rain forest settings were behavioral scientists. Leaders in the field, Jane Goodall and Dian Fossey’s work satisfied a ravenous worldwide demand for knowledge about the life of chimpanzees and gorillas.

But as the situation of these animals became more evident, so did the necessity for sounds to guide us in saving them. Amy’s research on mountain gorilla feeding ecology was meant to guide people in charge of gorilla protection on these threatened species most basic survival needs.

The reality of gorilla conservation in the 1970’s.

The terrible logic of genes drives infanticide. Like most other animals, Gorilla males want to start breeding right away with fresh females. This guarantees that their genes will be passed on to next generations. But during the roughly three years they nurse their offspring, gorilla females cannot become pregnant.

Killing her child is the cruel way to stop a mother’s nursing and fast start her reproductive cycle. Unlike with digital, this is rare to occur when the replacement is connected to the dead silver back. The younger gorillas are particularly vulnerable, however, when an unrelated silverback takes over a group.

Uncle Bert’s passing sent Beetsme on a different path. His vocalizations acquired resonance after a week, and his performances sounded more self- assured. He started stalking Flossie, attacking, striking and biting the mother of a fresh birth frito.Twenty-two days after Uncle Bert’s death, Beetsme delivered a fatal blow to FRITO.

For two days Flossie held the deceased baby while Beetsme persisted in harassing her. David saw Beetsme copulate with Flossie once she dumped the corpse. Beetsme could not, however, hold control of group 4 despite his great hostility.Within days following the infanticide, Flossie, Cleo, and Augustus all migrate once more—this time to the Susa group.

While Beetsme made no effort to hurt her newborn, Mwelu, the surviving adult female samba did not migrate with the others. Given past reports showing Simba and Beetsme had copulated, even while Uncle Bert and digit were living, this may have represented the likelihood Beetsme was Mwelu’s father.

Beetsme also kept helping Tiger groom Kweli. By September Kweli looked to be on his way to heal from his gunshot wound. David said he was eating regularly and he had no trouble catching up with the others. He quit playing, although David thought this may be related to sadness after the death of his mother and father.

Then in October Kweli rapidly declined. He stopped eating and whined a lot. He seemed unable to budge from his nest early the following morning. Beetsme attempted to raise him, but Kweli collapsed back into his bed.

One hour later the other gorillas departed to eat nearby. Then David used a strong rainfall to raise Kweli and transport him back to Karisoke. When he reached camp, he was not breathing. Not able to revive him were David and Dian.

Tiger, Beetsme, Titus, Simba, and Kwela rounded back to the precise location they had last seen her. They left to feed after a quick check of his nest. Simba moved to Nunkie in December, copying the other women. Nunkie murdered Mwelu and was samba-copulating within days. Barely one month later, Beetsme, Tiger and Titus teamed with peanuts.

From this one poacher assault six, five gorillas were dead now, counting digits. Flossie, Simba, Cleo, Augustus all moved to new groups. On them alone in a group devoid of females were Peanuts, Beetsme, Tiger, and Titus. The July slaughter permanently changed the destiny of a whole lineage—the main focus of Dian fosse’s work—as well as the most well-known family of gorillas in the world.

Though we saw them via David’s eyes and emotions, we did not see Frito or Kweli die. The autopsies of Uncle Bert and Macho were for us the most horrific feature of the 1978 murders. Dian left quick orders to cut the gorillas apart, retrieve any bullets and take pieces of certain organs before burying them before heading to Ruhengeri to demand the arrests of suspected poachers.

Still, there were not appropriate tools for the terrible work. Rather, we opened Uncle Bert’s rib cage only with many strokes from a machete by cutting through the gorilla’s very strong skin with a Swiss Army knife. Once inside his large chest cavity, we were astounded to see that even his immense strength and size were useless against the devastation of a basic bullet most likely shot from a high-powered military rifle.

Starting via a small one-quarter-inch hole in his chest, the bullet had split soft tissues and cracked his spine before emerging out a much bigger hole in his back. Macho felt the same. From all the gorillas fired throughout that horrific period, we never collected one single bullet.

Here we had come to assist with gorilla preservation. We were up to our elbows in their blood now, surrounded by dead and chopped corpses. Although events could not make any sense, this was the reality of gorilla protection in 1978.

Our studies could clarify the African poachers’ reality, the terrible local poverty rates, and the importance of global markets. Nothing, however, could ever excuse the murder of such calm and defenceless animals. Neither could we understand how someone could be so sick as to pay for a gorilla’s severed skull or its brutality orphaned young.

SABYINyO, teeth of the ancient one, Time and erosion have eliminated any evidence of its once-majestic cauldron. Leaving only five sharp incisors with large spaces between. Under its summits, a black bamboo carpet softens the jagged edges of deep valleys and crevasses ripped from its sides.

On Sabyinyo’s highest tooth at the start of the twentieth century, the colonial empires of Britain, Belgium, and Germany crossed paths. The European powers did not feel limited in their drive to carve apart Africa by their great geographical ignorance of the huge continent. Rather, they recorded geographical features, assumed watersheds, and gathered around a table at the Berlin conference in 1885 drawing lines along known rivers.

But adventurers from Baker and Burton to Speke and Stanley had avoided the mountain kingdom of Rwanda, driven away by guides who knew only of the Rwandans terrible reputation as combatants. The outcome was a total lack of knowledge about the area, including the neglect of the presence of either the Virunga series of volcanoes or Lake Kivu.

Stanley did note the name of one solitary volcano, Mufimbira, and it was on that doubtful location that the Berlin conferees defined the common border point of the German, Belgian, and British territories. The first European visitors to the region years later would find Mufumbiro nonexistent. There was a lengthy chain of rather active volcanoes in situ.

A tripartite commission would ultimately assign the Virunga’s southern side to the German colony of Rwanda-Urundi, its North West portion to the Belgian Congo, and a smaller North East piece to British East Africa.

Young military soldier Oscar von Beringe was tasked to monitor Germany’s financial commitment to Rwanda. He visited Mt. Visoke first among white men in 1899. Three years later, Captain von Beringe returned on a patrol to show the German presence close to the trinational boundary.

About 10,400 feet on the East side of Sabyinyo, climbing a little slope, he came across a gathering of “black large apes.” Then he shot two of the beasts “which fell with great noise into a canyon.”

The sounds of another African day coming to an end.

Seeking the route of least resistance down the craggy Eastern slope, THE TRIAL FROM NGEZI winded uncertainly. While a gauntlet of boulders and exposed roots forced attention to the route below, dense stands of veronica and bamboo offered a low canopy of nearly continual shelter.

rocky out cropping gave relief from the cover and the chance for bill to glance up and out at the world beyond his worn-out feet. From the Northeast, scores of low-lying craters gave way to the jagged peaks of Sabyinyo, the notched flat top of Gahinga and Muhavura’s iconic cone.

Rich agricultural fields covering the Virunga piedmont like a patch work patchwork lie to the east and south. Looking at their orderly rows of crops, stone boundary walls, and permanent homes, Bill could not understand that these villages had been fashioned from the lower parts of the park less than years past.

Calls from women to gather their children to help prepare for supper-all punctuated by the bleated resistance of goats being led to evening lock-up on the tethers of little boys. Adding to the air of normalcy were the sounds of another African day coming to an end, greetings called out as people returned from fields and markets shouted invitations for men to gather for drink and conversation.

It was difficult to accept that someone from this idyllic environment could be as linked with the cold-blooded murders that had resulted in Bills forced march back to Karisoke. At its base, the weariness of the whole census day and the shock of the edge of the park top unite camp path. One last surge of adrenaline reduced the trek to camp.

ARMYS NOTE ABOUT THE DOOR OF OUR darkish cabin read simply inside Bill’s cabin. He was shocked to see Betty Cringle there. The wife of the U.S ambassador visited often and was close friend of Dian’s. Ian came out of another room looking even more hunched over and lazy than normal. As a collection of gorilla pictures stared down from the wall behind her, she informed Bill on the circumstances.

Of the faces dimly lighted by the gas lamps, Uncle Bert stood out. Dian confirmed that Uncle Bert was discovered murdered and beheaded that morning and that she also believed others were dead or kidnapped. After the murders, David Watts had followed the path of group 4s up Visokes hills and found their relative serenity to be rather remarkable. He could not, however, establish the existence of every other gorilla before night fell. That news sent Dian back to her room.

Betty Crigler had concerns about Dian’s mental status as she deals with poachers. Retaliation was not unimaginable because suspected poachers had been subjected to a range of tortures and other atrocities under Dian’s leadership. But nothing supported this point of view either. In any case, our capacity for clear thinking about anything at that moment was rather restricted, and we went without answering her questions.

Dian returned to sit at the dinner table, avoiding any eye contact and hardly touching her meal. Her agonized visage spoke volumes about the intensity of the suffering within.David also displayed the great suffering of the events of the day. Just before eight o’clock that morning he had found Uncle Bert’s still warm but decapitated corpse.

For any one, it would have been a rustic experience; but, for someone as delicate and gentle as Davis—a very quiet and serious scholar whose only emotional outlet was violin playing—it would have been very different. Dealing with the most recent tragedy to afflict group 4, he would exhibit a much harder side.

Some time before midnight, we went back softly to our cabin. Emotionally and physically exhausted after the activities of the day, we sank into an all too short slumber.

On the morning of July 25, we headed in great numbers toward the location where Uncle Bert was slain at DAWN. Bill remained behind with Rwelekana and Rukera to reconstruct the assault and examine the location for other dead while Amy and David followed group 4’s track with tiny Nemeye and Basira –an infrequent Karisoke worker.

Our starting point was the big area underneath smashed celery and other vegetation where Uncle Bert’s blood had spilled out and dried to create an unusual dark crimson carpet. The flattened greenery in every direction mirrored the anarchy of the onslaught. Separating gorilla flight paths from those of the poachers and the Karisoke crew—who had briefly surveyed the region the day before—was challenging.

Following what seemed to be the path of a lone person, Bill searched for twenty minutes. There he found a big black shape, facing down in a patch of dense sedge like vegetation. He called to Rukera, who turned the corpse over to see Macho’s horrific death mask.

Her face frozen in a twisted grimace as she dropped from one rifle fire in the rear. Macho beyond assistance focused our worries on Kweli. Though what would have been an infant’s limited route forked off from her track to join the broader labyrinth beyond, there was no indication of macho’s two-year-old son anywhere near her.

six gorillas over the following days

Gorillas by the Numbers – Gorilla trekking safaris.

The death of MWEZA has down the Virunga count by one. More gorillas have succumbed to poachers than what? Five years previously, the latest census revealed how many had been born. Still among us are how many? These were some of the most fundamental issues Bill’s census was expected to respond to.

The February census of Mount Karisimbi discovered just fifteen gorillas in two groups, disrupted by malaria. Given karisimbi’s great size and plenty of habitat, this was somewhat disheartening. The gorilla rich core region of Mount Visoke came next as a target.

The two primary study groups were well-known for their makeup, but first we had to verify the count of the three periphery groups around Karaoke before discussing the absolutely unhabituated population. Though they sometimes interacted with groups 4 and 5, these families were not regularly tracked.

Bill would typically set out with a tracker to follow and identify the group, therefore confirming the presence or absence of the female in issue. If these contacts entailed a transfer of a female, as in the instance of Liza, For the census, however, we had to pay more attention to group numbers and composition—more exacting.

Among the gorilla big success stories is Nunkie. In 1972, he initially showed up on the northern Viscose slopes as a lone silverback. Over the following five years he settles in a tiny region of jagged terrain nearly exactly above the research camp, just between the bigger home ranges of group 4 and 5.

Nunkie appeared to make up for in personal charm, whatever his luck in preferred environment. He had attracted at least four women as of 1978; two from group 4 and his very loud copulatory binges were well-documented. So were three little babies.

By claiming a less desirable range near the top limit of the forest zone, Nunkie appeared to have guaranteed his spot on the mountain. He had little access to the good bamboo stands at lower altitudes as he almost ever descended below ten thousand feet. His home range of steep slopes and ravines offered safety, but also plenty of food sources of celery, thistles nettles, and large clusters of favorite Vernonia plants.

Approaching Nunkia’s gang in 1978 was usually quite an experience. Bill never knew who he would encounter first; a calm female like Papoose or Petula —transfers from group 4 who would accept his near presence – or a barely habituated transfer from a fully wild group; he was climbing over some peak or into a rocky cleft.

If the latter, her cries were clearly a quick reaction to Nunke. He would soon show out in great full swagger, pursing his lips and slapping at any surrounding plants as he turned his attention first to one side, then the other and crashed through the thicket. Nunke has never found tranquility with white apes around.

Bill was lucky to first meet Papoose and her two-year-old daughter as well as a neighboring group 6 transfer, Pandora, for the census. He sat in relative peace in their company and counted eight people total—including an only slightly offended Nunkie.

Completing the census, however, meant leaving the family to conduct at least three consecutive nest counts. Only in this fashion did we get the most precise count possible because to numerous beneficial features of mountain gorilla behavior and biology.

Gorillas spend each night at a new site as they travel around their range. Every one of these places, every gorilla over the age of three to three and a half creates their own “nest” by sloppily arranging a bowl-shaped sleeping platform from leaves, vines and branches. Up until the next baby is born, or until three years of age, infants sleep in their mothers’ nest.

Even more conveniently, mountain gorillas often defecate at the bottom of their nests late at night or early in the morning. The dry, heated dung is said to provide further protection from the evening cold. For census officials, this produces a repository of data. Their much more abundant presence in the nest of white and gray hairs helps one to easily identify silver backs from their excrement.

Relative dung size allows one to pretty precisely estimate the age of sub adults ranging in six months to eight years old. Adults may also be distinguished from one another as the presence of both baby and adult excrement in a nest suggests that the adult is female rather than an immature male.

Regarding Nunkie’s group, this data offers clear, recurring counts of eight individuals, one silver back, four females, and three babies. Two repeat trips to the group failed to provide visible proof of a recently born child who may not yet make solid excrement. Nunkie had done rather well indeed.

Another outlying group occupying a similarly difficult terrain on the Eastern slopes of Visoke was the objective for the next census. While Brutus was only known as kali-nasty, Nunkie had a reputation as Nguvu strong group 6’s silver back.

Once Pablo’s mother Liza moved to his band from group 5, Bill had seen a restless Brutus once again.Bill would find personally exactly how vicious he could be at later date, but his interaction with May 27 as noted in his field notes was sufficient to support accepted knowledge.

Arriving over a little elevation at 11.45, one fined Brutus five meters distant. Twice he yells and withdraws down a bush tunnel. Group members are heard tumbling down the hill beyond.

Brutus wraagh at eleven; fifty….Brutus yells and dashes to 4m as I approach the tunnel at 11.54, thinking he has followed others.This is repeated at 11:57, then stopped with a sweeping vege swat inside 2.5 meters. I withdraw and wait for proof that Brutus is no longer watching the other end of the tunnel. At 15:15 I crawl through without incident.

Bill’s connection with Brutus during the following two years was to revolve around tunnels on a regular basis. That day, his company crossed the valley under the young silver back and slept peacefully in plain view on the other side for more than an hour. After making a visual contact and then verifying a total of eight via a series of nest counts, Bill counted six.

Based on Ian Redmond’s previous count four months ago, this was a drop of three adults at least two of them female. Such a loss via natural transfers might at least help to explain Brutus’s disturbed condition. It also sparked questions about poaching kills in a home range near to human communities outside the park.

Bill went on to the final peripheral contact the day after completion of the group 6 nests. Karisoke researchers had known peanuts for many years initially as black back in the now split Rafiki group, then as head of his own group with many females.

Peanut lost terribly in a battle with another silver back in late 1977; he abducted his daughters and left him so gravely injured that Dian thought he would die. He survived, nevertheless, and continued on his solo patrols on Visoke’s lower slopes, most certainly expecting to draw some girls once again. Bill went to peanuts on May 28 to find out if he had succeeded, maybe with some of the missing members of group 6.

Rwandan staff and foreign researchers – Rwanda safaris and tours.

Fire was a choice and would have helped. Our little wood burning stove could burn around an hour’s worth of wood. Sadly, the wood was almost always damp. It was also cut in the park from dead Hagenia. This had always been accepted custom at karisoke, and there did seem to be enough.

Against our one basket, Dian used six to nine wicker baskets of wood daily in her two stoves and open fire place. But we questioned what the effects on the ecology may be from eliminating so much fallen timber. And it was unsettling to be able to freely use a resource for which local people may be jailed.

We cut our consumption to a minimum in a modified moral bailout so that, should a fire strike, we also dry clothing or plant samples.Eventually, Dian saved us from this moral dilemma by totally shutting off our wood supply in a pipue over some unperceived wrongdoing on our side.

A FIRE BURNED in the open pit, the actual hub of activity at Karaoke. Two panels of corrugated tin covered the pit partly to guard the significant fire usage for cooking meals and boiling oil water. There was warmth of many sorts here.

It was meeting spot for the Rwandan camp workers in the few times they were free from other tasks. While stirring the always present pot of beans that supplied breakfast, lunch, and supper, they could escape the cool air, dry their rolled-up tobacco leaves on the hot stones and swap tales of the day.

Someone who had just returned from the valley may provide updates on the state of the crops or news from another household. Every man worked half-hour at karisoke; none worked more than half-hour as farmers.Staff from Rwanda and overseas scholars might also mingle and chat by the fire pit.

At the research station, three stable posts existed. Although he was largely in charge of weekly washing for another camp, the house keeper, or mutu ya nyumba, was busy with chores at Dian’s cabin. Following karisoke tradition, two men divided this role in alternate twenty-day stints each, each with a separate surname.

As Rwandans had come to know from the Belgians, who in turn must have acquired from the British in East Africa, Kanyarogoro was the senior “boy.” He also had the unofficial status of Dian’s main in- camp informant.

He performed the job to hilarious effect with continually changing eyes and sideward looks as well as a penchant to lurk rather than move about the station grounds. It was not long before one saw he was really a descent man with a matching reputation and a sad collection of behavioral tics. Basira, the other housekeeper, was more friendly.

Of the three primary camp occupations, the wood cutter—also known as muntu ya kuni—had the lowest rank. Usually divided on 10 day shifts, two guys have no obvious hierarchy between them. Nshogoza had been sacked at least once previously but had worked at karisoke longer.

Maybe for this reason his public persona was dour, but personally he was a really likeable guy who regarded himself as more than just a wood cutter and obviously desired to improve himself. His buddy Rukera was much different. He was always smiling, doing the clown to the fullest, and the butt of many jokes while at camp.

Still, he was a diligent worker who looked to be in perpetual cold and discomfort. With no boots nor rain gear, he spent his day bare foot roaming the chilly, damp saddle in an endless hunt for fallen Hagenia trees. At an average pace of twelve to fifteen loads daily, he would slice them up, pack them into baskets, then carry them back to camp on his head. Often balanced a whole wood on his head so he could take it back to cut nearer the fire.

On one such instance, his axe-head pointed off a wood and cut precisely into his bare right foot. Basira beckoned us to counsel on treatment as Rukera limped into the pit and rested on a wooden seat. Ian Redmond had started by the time we got here, so we joined the other camp workers observing as Ian threaded a really big needle he used to fix his boots.

Rukera hardly flinched as the needle passed his thick skin and Ian healed the three-inch wound with successive firm stitches. Then he laughed with the others at his own bad luck. Rukera left camp alone early the following morning to travel the many hours down the mountain and back to his residence wearing a borrowed rubber boot on his broken foot.

And the gorilla experience.

Their large trunks produce uneven, exuberant crown, seasonally draped with graphelike clusters of fruits. Their roots extend out at unimaginable angles-angles rendered all the more amazing by the masses of organized mosses and lichens carried by those limbs over most of the year. More terrifying perhaps was the sight of so many hagenia limbs draped over our delicate cabinetry.

Natural greenery at Karisoke drew a range of animal life. Over the course of the month, the Lobelia outside our cabin developed a three-five foot long spike of purple blooms and buds from bottom to top. Though sunbirds like the capacity to hover, they drew a stream of northern double-collared and scarlet-tufted sunbirds, Africa’s equivalent to hummingbirds.

Cinnamon bracken warblers and Rwenzori turaccos hopped over the canopy above and green doves tore the air like-low flying jets. Usually in couples producing noisy sounds, white-naped ravens come on sporadic foraging trips. More frustrating than their vocalisations, however, was the scratching of their claws on our tin roofs.

The black-fronted duikers were the most attractive indigenous animals. Rising over knee-height, this little antelope had a beautiful coat of deep chestnut across much of its body, with black blaze on its nose. Inside its ears, delicate black and white marks graced them. Its sole defense comes from a pair of rather curved, dagger-shaped three- to four-inch horns; extended hooves provide mashing support.

Duikers elsewhere in the forest are somewhat timid due to their reputation as a top target for hunters. But around karisoke, the protecting presence of workers and researchers let them tiptoe softly about their life with little thought. Also living in the nearby woodland but seldom seen were the bushbucks, a deer-sized antelope with foot long spiraled horns.

Most usually, its self-awareness was shown by its dozing behavior—exactly like a dog. The shrill bark of the bushbuck shocked us into poacher alert settings more than once in our first few months, picturing instead the hunter’s dog.

Sometimes we were given the sight of its and lines against a coat of reddish brown, black and white patterns on long exquisite legs.

Although we seldom saw a cape buffalo near the camp, its copious poo mounds informed us that it was a regular nighttime guest. What half-ton this is?

Though it was never evident to us, the savannah-dweller was accomplishing at ten thousand feet in the rain forest was to be appreciated. And its footprints down the forty-yard approach to our outhouse ensured that only the most essential visits were made late at night.

While elephants passed fifty-feet of our cabin one night and gorillas came within two hundred yards on our first Christmas day, other animals just seemed to avoid the camp. People saw a leopard less than a mile away.

Free from fences and other restrictions, those animals that did stray inside the karisoke complex strolled as they liked. Usually, people stroll over stone railroads. A small network of gently elevated paths reinforced with different sized pebbles was the imperfect answer to living in a swamp. Built on the highest grounds, near Dian’s mansion, they functioned really well.

For those of us at the lower end of the camp, it was useless to attempt to remain dry, particularly at night when the chance of damaged ankle from rock-hopping in the dark much out awareness worry. Equipped with nice wool socks and army jungle boots that let water flow easily in and out, Bill’s daily ritual was to stomp into the first puddle of standing water or mud and carry on with the day.

Once dry once more at night, even though I really wanted to remain that way. Eventually, Amy joined Dian and many others in donning rubber boots about camp, but local merchants did not carry bill size thirteen.

Actually, not many sites fell inside the confines of the research station. Though the one hundred odd yards of our cabin to Dian’s may appear much longer, with the greenery, the quality of the route, and our connection, everything seems much longer. Though their sizes were different, the building at Karisoke had the same design.

More help came from floor construction; a platform of rough hewn boards elevated around three feet above the ground. Little hypericum saplings woven together with wires or vines supported the roof.

Then stapled into the Skelton, thin sheets of mabati, also known as corrugated tin, finished the exterior construction for the walls and roof. interior designs was very similar across all structures, with a layer of rigid bamboo mats creating a fake ceiling for false insulation, while papyrus mats draped the walls and covered the floor.

Our cabin was about thirty by twelve feet, and a partial barrier separated our bedroom area from the combined kitchen-office. We also had three windows and mismatched but useful doors. Our furniture included two somewhat loud metal spring bed frames, one desk, three chairs, and a counter, stool. It provided everything we need and ideal habitat for the seven rodent species that called our comfortable home.

The karisoke construction made little difference in terms of weather protection. Although direct downpour was usually avoided, with strong storming there was a danger of significant hearing impementment.

And although the rain may not come in from above, the dampness from below was always there. Kerosene lighting helped if you sat near, but mostly we simply dressed warmly. Amy most often slept in sweat pants, wool socks, a turtneck shirt, vest, and even a knit hat while she was by herself in camp.

virunga ranges and water catchment