Prisoners From Another Kingdom

He said the chimp was 5, but when I remarked that he seemed very small, the wrangler admitted that it was probably because he'd been sick for a few months. When I asked if he was well now, the wrangler quickly changed the subject. The wrangler was gruff and crotchety but he tolerated my proximity because I was careful to stand just far enough away not to disturb his ring of control. He spoke to the chimps ( there were two in case one was uncooperative when the camera was ready to roll ) like they were prisoners in a concentration camp; 'Stand up! Look away from that! Put your hands to your side and keep them there!'. Each time he barked out an order, the little apes fully complied but seemed to move almost in slow motion. They kept their heads perfectly still but I saw their curious eyes carefully, almost imperceptibly, moving to take in their surroundings from behind the iron bars of the wranglers voice. The entire interaction was awful and sad.

By the end of the day (in between takes) I'd worked my way into a running conversation with the wrangler in the hope that I might be allowed to interact with my poor little cousins in some personal way. After many hours of showing interest from a respectful distance, he relented and and directed me to stand next to the little male crouching on the floor. I held my hands behind my back and moved slowly forward (in the same way I had seen the chimps do). The little male looked at my shoes and then into the face of his 'trainer', 'You better be good!' ordered the man. 'It's okay...' I said gently to the little boy ape. The little ape slowly traced the shape of the rubber toe of my Chucks with his index finger. He felt the difference in texture between the rubber and the canvas of my shoe and then began carefully following the path of my bright red crisscrossing laces. He looked up at my face and I smiled. When he found the end of the lace, he slowly pulled until the bow was no more. 'Good job.' I whispered. 'You watch yourself!' the wrangler said sternly to the chimp. I stepped back not wanting the boy ape to be yelled at anymore. 'Thank you so much,' I said to the wrangler, 'that meant a lot to me.'

I looked into the face of the wrangler fully for the first time and saw that his skin was a healed jigsaw puzzle of scars. He tossed his long hair over his shoulder as he stood up and I noticed that his ear was missing. On cue, he began to tell me about the day it had happened. He was driving three chimps he'd raised from birth to their weekly romp in the wide open. As usual, all were uncaged in the van since they all enjoyed that. He said up until that day he felt like the chimps were his children. Without warning, his 'boy' (the other two were females) jumped on him from behind and began to rip off the wranglers face with his powerful hands. He said the only reason he survived is because he crashed the van (going 70) off the freeway, rolled out, kicked the door shut behind him and scrambled to hide in the dense scrub. The temporary confusion allowed him to do this unseen by his assailant.

Bleeding and terrified, he watched from his hiding spot as the powerful ape effortlessly ripped the door off the van and began a systematic search for him. His 'son' was later shot and killed, the two females recaptured without incident. He said it was a bid for dominance that he didn't see coming.

I looked down again at my miserable, sentient little cousin crouching in submission on the cold cement floor of the sound stage. I thought about how I would absolutely choose the freedom of death over 70 bleak years lived as a prisoner.

I thanked the wrangler again before I excused myself for the last time.