by Jane Goodall
There is no question but that the mother-daughter bond is highly beneficial for the mother, too. Gremlin was loyal and valiant in her defence of Melissa. Once, when still a child, she had even tried to rescue Melissa from a brutal attack by Satan. The fact that she was much too small and light to be of any real help does not diminish her valour. She had hurled herself at the big male, hitting him with her fists, then run over to Goblin who was nearby and pulled at his hand, while looking repeatedly from him towards their embattled mother. Clearly she had been begging him to help. But Goblin, whose relationship with Satan at the time was very tense, had been in no mood for chivalry and he had just sat and watched. So Gremlin once again had hurled her puny self, courageously if futilely, into the fray, joining Melissa in uttering loud barks of defiance at Satan when, finally, he charged away.
She had behaved in the same valorous manner when Melissa had tried to save infant Genie from Passion and Pom. Time and again Gremlin had leapt at the murderous females, beating at them with her small fists. She had even run over to the field staff for help. Standing upright in front of them, she had looked into their eyes, then turned to where Melissa battled for the life of her infant, then back towards the men. They had known she wanted them to help, and they had wanted to intervene; but the battle had been too fast and furious. Feeling helpless, they had done nothing. So Gremlin had run back on her own and had hurled herself at her mother's assailants just as Pom had pulled the baby away from Melissa. And her intervention had been so fierce that, just for a moment, Melissa had actually managed to retrieve her infant—only to have her once more snatched away. For good.
As Gimble got older Gremlin became increasingly helpful to her mother in one other way—she shared in caring for her young brother. If only Melissa had let Gremlin help when both twins had been alive, how much easier her task would have been. Instead, confused by the burden of caring for two babies, she had been unusually protective, and had forced Gremlin to keep her distance. By the time Gimble was three years old, however, there was scarcely a follow when Gremlin was not seen carrying him for part of the time; and when the family was feeding peacefully, Gimble was frequently closer to his sister than to his mother. If he got into any kind of trouble it was often Gremlin who responded to his whimper or scream of distress, running to gather him close. Once adolescent Atlas, when mating Grem lin, had hit out angrily as Gimble rushed up to push between the couple. Gremlin, outraged, terminated the copulation abruptly, turned and attacked Atlas.
Gremlin's concern for Gimble went way beyond merely responding to his appeals for help: like a good mother she would anticipate trouble. Thus when Gimble played with young baboons Gremlin often watched closely and, if the game got the least bit rough, and long before Gimble himself seemed worried, she firmly took him away. Once, as she was carrying him along a trail, she saw a small snake ahead. Carefully she pushed Gimble off her back and kept him behind her as she shook branches at the snake until it glided away. Another time Gremlin, with Gimble perched on her back as usual, suddenly stopped just before the trail passed through a patch of tall grasses. Melissa carried on but when Gimble, who had jumped to the ground, tried to follow his mother Gremlin prevented him. She pushed him behind her, hit a few times at the grass ahead, and then herded him around the clump of grass. I expected to find another snake hiding there—instead I saw that it was infested with hundreds of minute ticks.
Gremlin was very tolerant of her small brother. During the termite fishing season, an infant will often seize the opportunity to poke into a hole that has been temporarily vacated by a chimpanzee searching for a new tool. Usually the child will be gently but firmly pushed away as soon as the rightful owner returns, but Gremlin sometimes sat for five minutes or more watching her young brother as he experimented with various abandoned tools, only reclaiming her hole when he gave up. Once, when he was a bit older, Gimble tried to take over the hole when his sister was still working it and when she prevented this he had the audacity to threaten her, raising his arm and giving a childish waa-bark. Gremlin paid no heed to this mixture of disrespect and sheer cheek, just gently pushed him aside and went on with her work.
No wonder she was a good mother to her own first infant, Getty, efficient and assured in her handling of him right from the start. A truly wonderful relationship developed between Getty and his grandmother. Melissa first set eyes on Getty when he was one day old—she had not been present during the birth, for Gremlin like most females had gone off on her own. When Melissa approached, that first time, Gremlin backed away nervously fearing, perhaps, that her domineering mother would try to appropriate this new and precious possession just as she took everything else. But Melissa sat quietly nearby and merely glanced at the new infant from time to time, and soon Gremlin relaxed. Not until Getty was ten months old did we see Melissa touch her grandson at all—and then it was merely to groom him for a few moments during a session with Gremlin.
Soon after that I watched a fascinating incident. It began as Melissa was grooming Gremlin's back and Getty pushed his way between them. Melissa looked down at him, then lifted him into her lap and began to groom him—just as though he were her own infant. Gremlin glanced round, then seemed to stiffen. Very slowly she turned; very cautiously, glancing into her mother's face, she reached towards Getty with a soft pleading whimper. He responded at once and climbed into her arms. Quickly Gremlin moved away, settling to rest some five yards distant. Clearly, once again, she had feared that Melissa might try to steal her beloved son.
As the days went by, Melissa seemed to become more and more enchanted by Getty and the bond between them grew. When Melissa and Gremlin were grooming together Getty repeatedly interrupted, leaping down onto his grandmother from some overhanging branch—and Melissa, who had never played much with any of her own offspring, would stop grooming and start to tickle him. During these games, which sometimes lasted for fifteen minutes, Gremlin usually sat watching. Melissa actually initiated some of the play herself—sometimes she even followed Getty when he was romping with another youngster and pulled him away so that she could play with him herself. This was not always to his liking, for he was a self-willed little fellow, and then he would struggle until he had escaped from Granny and could run back to his chosen playmates.
Of all the infants I had known at Gombe, Getty was the most endearing. He was lively and adventurous, always eager to join in any social activity. He was well able to amuse himself, too. Once, as Gremlin fished for termites, Getty played with sand for over ten minutes. He lay on his back with his mouth wide open, scooped up handfuls of loose soil and, holding his hands up in the air, dropped the sand so that it showered all over his body and into his mouth.
When Gimble was six years old Melissa resumed her sexual cycles. This led to the most extraordinary series of incidents; Goblin, who was now nineteen years old, suddenly evinced an incestuous sexual interest in his mother. During Melissa's previous pinknesses Goblin, like other mature sons, had shown absolutely no desire to mate with his mother. But this time it was different. One day, about half-way through her first period of swelling, Goblin approached Melissa and summoned her with vigorous shaking of vegetation. She ignored him at first and then, when he persisted, she threatened him. This seemed to enrage him—with a scowl he leaped at her and, as she ran off, chased after her and actually stamped on her back. Melissa was beside herself with fury and, as Goblin displayed away, she stamped after him, screaming until I thought she would choke. He left then, but the following day he summoned her again and, when she tried to avoid him, once more threatened her with bristling hair. Then, to my utter astonishment, Melissa actually crouched before her son for copulation. The sexual act was not completed—Melissa pulled away, screeching loudly, after a few seconds. Again Goblin leapt at her and stamped on her back. His own mother! I couldn't help but feel incensed—and clearly Melissa felt much the same for she turned and hit him before running off. She climbed high into a tree, as far away from Goblin as she could get.
He stayed below, glaring up and angrily shaking branches, but she stayed put and soon he gave up.
After that we followed her every day until her swelling was gone. Goblin made a few more half-hearted attempts, but we did not see any further violence between the two. Nor was he aggressive towards her during her next pinkness, a month later: he did attempt to copulate with her a couple of times but she managed to escape—unviolated.
Goblin's unnatural behaviour utterly changed the relationship between Melissa and her son. They had been close before, spending much time in one another's company as they fed or travelled or rested. They were frequent grooming partners, too. Often Goblin hurried to help his mother, whether in her dominance interactions with other females, or when she was being challenged by some callow adolescent male. After Goblin's attempts to mate his mother, however, relations between them were very strained and tense. Not only did they stop spending time together, but Melissa actually seemed to be frightened of her son. However, during her second period of swelling she became pregnant, after which, like most of the older females, she showed no further periods of oestrus. And so things between Melissa and her son slowly returned to normal. Moreover, even before that, during the height of their temporary estrangement, I saw something which showed that deep down their old relationship was still alive.
It happened when there was a high level of excitement among the chimps, for six females in addition to Melissa were cycling, flaunting their provocative pink bottoms. All the males were there, and most of the other community members, too. They travelled in noisy, boisterous groups, calling back and forth to each other across the valleys. A carnival atmosphere prevailed. The adult males displayed magnificently, the juveniles and infants romped and wrestled and chased one another through the trees. There were sudden outbursts of screaming as the excitement boiled over and led to aggression. Just occasionally, though surprisingly seldom, there was a serious fight. One of these took place in a tree right over my head—and the victim was Melissa. She was sitting quietly on a branch grooming young Gimble when Evered, who had been threatened by Satan when he courted one of the other females, suddenly leapt at her. She screamed and tried to escape, and as she did so I saw his teeth slash at her pink swollen bottom so that watery blood poured down. At that moment I heard a crashing behind me and Goblin hurtled past me and up into the tree. Without pausing he attacked Evered. All three were locked in combat no more than six feet above my head. I dared not move for the slope was steep and rocky and I was balanced against the trunk of the selfsame tree, so I stayed where I was, praying that the branch would not break and deposit its enraged and screaming burden on top of me. Fortunately the fight ended, as it had begun, up in the tree—except that Evered leapt to the ground, and fled, screaming. Goblin stayed for a little while and watched as Melissa picked leaves with which to dab at her bleeding bottom. And then, as peace returned, he too climbed down and moved away.
The following day Melissa's swelling was shrivelled—a typical response to physical injury—and she was no longer interesting to the highest-ranking males. But she was to Jomeo. I met the two of them, with Gimble trailing along, quite by chance in Kasekela Valley. Poor Melissa—her bottom was sore and hurting and, on top of that, she had terrible diarrhoea and kept crouching forward as though suffering severe stomach cramps. And instead of being free to recover in peace she was being forced, by Jomeo, to follow him northward. A less likely-looking honeymoon pair would be hard to imagine, for Jomeo was in even worse shape than Melissa. The entire left side of his face was hugely swollen from jaw to eye and the flesh was an ugly shade of pink beneath the tight-stretched skin. He looked, with his one half-white eye, almost grotesque. To complete the pathetic picture, Gimble was in the midst of his weaning depression. He was keeping close to his mother with a sullen expression on his face, his lips pushed forward almost continually in a disgruntled-looking pout.
When I arrived the three were sitting, Melissa and Gimble close together, Jomeo a few yards ahead. He must have had an abscess on one of his upper molars and I think it burst right then, as I watched, because suddenly he began to dab his gum with one finger. He licked the finger, dabbed and licked—on and on. Gimble was fascinated, and peered closely as the big male tended his sore mouth.
Presently Jomeo got to his feet, moved a few yards further from Melissa, looked back and shook some branches. Melissa ignored this summons completely. Then Jomeo began to sway and swagger until every hair stood on end, and I felt sure that Melissa would be attacked. But at the last moment she obeyed and hastened to him with submissive pant-grunts, bowing to kiss his thigh as he groomed her. Ten minutes later Jomeo set off again, and the whole performance was repeated until, reluctantly, Melissa moved on another few yards.
I followed them for most of the rest of the day. We didn't go far—Melissa saw to that. In between Jomeo's efforts to move on, the three of them sometimes fed, but often they just sat. Jomeo dabbed at his gum. Melissa crouched or huddled, as though in pain, and, from time to time, plucked leaves to dab at her wounded bottom. Gimble repeatedly pestered his mother, demanding access to her nipples. When he approached her with his pouting face, whimpering and crying, Melissa was too weary and sick to protest for long. She gave in and he crept into her arms and suckled. When I left them, Melissa was lying with her eyes closed, one arm over Gimble who held a nipple firmly in his mouth. Jomeo waited nearby, dabbing at his abscess.
That consortship, like most others in Jomeo's life, was not successful: two days later the little trio reappeared in the central part of the Kasekela range. And the following month Melissa went on a consortship with Satan—and conceived.
About two months before we reckoned that Satan's baby was due, Melissa became very sick indeed. Her symptoms—bad cough, heavy mucous discharge and high fever—suggested pneumonia, and we feared for her life. She was unable to climb trees for several days and, at her worst, could barely drag herself along the ground. She ate only a few mouthfuls of food, refusing offerings from the concerned field staff. Amazingly she re-covered, although her vocal chords were permanently impaired and her voice, for the rest of her life, came out as a hoarse croak. And, before she was properly better, her pregnancy ended with a miscarriage.
But then, three months later, Melissa once again travelled the hills flaunting the pink sex signal of the female chimpanzee. Almost at once she became pregnant—for the last time. How much better it would have been had she not. That last pregnancy sapped her strength and vitality and when little Groucho was born, Melissa looked frail and much older than her estimated thirty-five years. From the start Groucho was tiny and lethargic. When he was nine months old he occasionally made short forays from Melissa's side, began to eat solids and, occasionally, played gently with Gimble, but then his condition worsened. By the time he was one year old he was spending most of his time lying listlessly on his mother's lap. Gimble still tried occasionally to persuade this small brother to play, but Groucho, although he usually responded with a play-face, was too weak for the rough and tumble games typical of his age.
It was at this time, when I was almost expecting to hear that Groucho had died, that I received news—a telephone call from Kigoma—that Getty was missing. I shall never forget the sense of shock and outrage I felt when I arrived at Gombe a week later, and heard that his body, when it was eventually found in the forest, had been horribly mutilated—the head had been cut off and removed. We never discovered exactly what had happened, but we suspected witchcraft, for the old customs are deeply entrenched among the Waha people of the area. Nothing like this had happened before—nor has it happened since. It was a bitter blow for Getty had been the favourite youngster of us all. I feel quite sure, too, that among the chimps it was not only the members of his immediate family who missed him. Getty, with his adventurous and fun-loving nature, had captivated us all.
Gremlin was listless for weeks but eventually, two months after losing her son, she once more resumed her sexual cycles. Then she began spendi
ng more time with the males and less with her old mother. Gimble quite often left Melissa too. Goblin, however, now that his relationship with his old mother was back on course, travelled with her periodically, though never for long at a time. One day as I followed them through the forest we heard the pant-hoots of Satan and Evered across the valley. Despite his alpha rank, Goblin's relationship with the much heavier Satan was often tense. He stared towards the calls, his hair bristling, then turned to his old mother and, with a grin of fear on his face, stretched his hand towards her. She responded at once, reaching to touch his fingers and Goblin was calmed, just as he had been calmed throughout his infancy, by the contact with her. He turned and moved on to face whatever challenge lay ahead. Melissa followed for a while but soon she stopped to rest.
A few months later, as I was walking along the Kakombe Valley, I saw Gimble carrying something large into a tree. It was the dead body of little Groucho. As Melissa and Gremlin groomed each other on the ground, Gimble cradled the corpse on his lap, grooming it intently. When his family moved on Gimble climbed down and followed, the body slung over his shoulder. Presently it fell to the ground, and then he dragged it behind him by one arm. Later, when they stopped to rest again, Melissa gently took the limp body from him and placed it over her own back. She carried the dead baby for two more days and then abandoned his corpse deep in the forest.
After the death of her infant, Melissa seemed to lose the will to live. She had been thin before, now she became emaciated for she ate almost nothing. Often she did not leave her nest until after ten in the morning and sometimes she went to bed as early as four o'clock. During the hours in between she made at least one day nest where she lay, often staring vacantly up through the leaves, for hours at a time. Sometimes Gimble was with her, but he became bored, as well as hungry, and spent more time than before with the big males. Nor was Gremlin there to provide comfort: protesting, she had been led off on a two-week consortship, by Satan, on the evening of the day Groucho died.