A home for Toby

by Gina Roitman and Diana Goodrich
Summer 2003 newsletter

This is a story about Toby. In fact, this whole newsletter, in one way or another, has something to do with Toby because this individual is our newest member of the Fauna Family. And as we have made room for him in our hearts, so now we must give Toby the space and the privacy he needs to become integrated with his new family in the chimp house.

This means we need to renovate the existing areas, to provide safer, quieter and more intimate places to meet new friends. So many of the problems during introductions come from the rest of the group cheering on, or being aggressive towards, the new guy on the block. Private areas are seriously needed.

Toby arrived at Fauna on July 23, 2002 from the St. Félicien Zoo, just north of Québec City. To the best of our knowledge, he has lived all but the first eight months of his 24-year life in zoos, for the most part in the company of his surrogate mother, Samba, and another young male, Benji.

It is not certain where Toby was born. There are two stories. One says that he was captured in the wild and brought to Canada, most likely illegally; the other story is that he was born at another zoo in Quebec and sold to the St. Félicien Zoo.

These types of facts are often difficult to come by because so much of the sale and transfer of chimpanzees has been achieved using dubious documentation, making it nearly impossible to track their place of birth or family members. For instance, it is rumored that Parc Safari in Hemmingford, Québec has sold over 89 baby chimpanzees to different institutions and individuals over the past 20 years. If true, that means there are many relatives of that small community of chimpanzees, now living all over the world.

We do know that Toby was bought by the St. Félicien Zoo to be a companion to Samba's son, Benji. Samba had rejected her only child and the zoo felt it was important for Benji to have a companion.

In their early years, Toby and his adopted brother Benji were often dressed in clothes and taken home by the keepers and other zoo officials. This could explain lots about Toby — his knowing how to colour, the way he enjoys wearing sunglasses and jewelry, his use of utensils, and his passion for potato chips and pop. These are things he would have experienced during his formative years being (partially) raised by humans.

We were also told that one morning, after months of Benji and Toby living together in quarters adjacent to Samba's, that the keepers arrived to discover that Samba had broken into the youngsters' enclosure during the night. From that day forward, the three lived as a family. And Toby was treated no differently than Benji, as the three settled in to being a family unit.

Aside from these anecdotes and observations, we really don't know very much about Toby except that in the last few years of his life, no one wanted him and his family. It happens so often in zoos. Suddenly, you're considered surplus, or too old, or not cute enough, or your exhibit is being torn down and you must leave. Where are all these unwanted individuals supposed to go?

The trouble began in 1995, when the St. Félicien Zoo decided to divest itself of exotic animals and focus on native species. During the better part of six years, through listings with the Canadian Association of Zoos and Aquariums (CAZA) and the American Association of Zoos and Aquariums (AZA), St. Félicien could find no one interested in the trio. Either there was no room for them or no interest in older chimpanzees.

In 1997, the Wild Animal Park in Georgia and the Granby Zoo both turned them down.

In 1999, an Ontario park would have taken them in but could not secure the necessary funds for the construction of a proper habitat.

In 2000, when Fauna was approached, we were ready to make a home for the three but a ruling by the Agricultural Commission that governs the use of regional farmland prohibited us from rescuing any new chimpanzees.

Samba died the following year. And then there were two. Males in their twenties — and still no takers. Zoos did not want them and the various sanctuaries approached could not afford to take on the responsibility of their upkeep.

We have estimated that it will cost between $230,000 to $250,000 to keep Toby at Fauna for the remainder of his life. That is a huge responsibility and so, it is understandable that there weren't too many takers for the two young males.

Last summer, Benji died suddenly, leaving Toby distraught and all alone. He was found one morning, sitting in his enclosure, holding his brother's dead body. This just one year after the loss of the only mother Toby had ever known.

It was clear that he could not stay at St. Félicien; that he could not remain by himself. He had already grown lethargic, refusing to eat. The zoo even had to hospitalize him. With no alternative, they brought Toby to Fauna as his only hope for survival, The Agricultural Commission was petitioned again and this time, allowed Toby to stay under the distressing circumstances.

The past few years were very frustrating for all of us here at Fauna, knowing that this special family of Samba, Benji and Toby were a mere six hour drive away. We were completely willing to introduce this family to our family but were prevented from doing so because of the rules. After the death of Samba, we went to meet Benji and Toby, to see if we could do more to lobby on their behalf. But we were unsuccessful in our petition to the Commission at that time.

The early and tragic death of Benji left Toby in a very vulnerable position. There is no doubt that he was feeling distraught, insecure, and alone. These are the reasons his re-socialization has taken so long, and that we face the problems we now do.

Toby is a very sweet, kind but insecure guy although a social and loving fellow who will one day be accepted and loved by his new family. But he needs to heal. He needs to adapt and, most of all, he needs the quiet space in which to make his new friendships.

He's a funny guy. He loves to wear things on the back of his neck, on his wrists and ankles. He especially likes watches with really big stretchy bands but also enjoys toys that have moving parts or can make noise.

Physically, Toby is really big, capable of some pretty intimidating displays. He will bang the back of his wrist on the caging while making loud vocalizations. But he is also a prolific and thoughtful artist. He has a style all his own, treating his canvases with water to give the gouaches (water-based, non-toxic paints) we provide the look of batiks. He really concentrates when he is working and his pieces were among the most popular in the two chimp art exhibits we held recently.

He has some quirks like the way he makes his nest. He doesn't use blankets or sheets but rather prefers rope or hoses that he coils around himself. And, of course, having lived in St. Félicien, Toby is a francophone, primarily understanding only French.

We are still getting to know Toby, seeing where he will fit in best. It's very tough to introduce a new chimpanzee, so the process is a slow one. When things get too tense, Toby is sometimes moved away from companions for a few days. That's one of the main reasons it's important to continue the planned extension of the chimp house.

We are grateful to have Toby with us at last. He has experienced all the sadness that chimpanzees in captivity have known — being torn from his birth mother early in life, days filled with boredom and the loss of a second mother, adoptive brother along with his special human friends at the zoo. In short, he has lost a whole community.

But there is hope in the pleasures we have seen him take from playing or painting. With your help, perhaps we can measurably increase the quality of Toby's life and the life of all the chimpanzees at Fauna.