Chimpanzee Trekking in Kibale National Park, Uganda
Here, Chimp. Hear, Chimp, Chimp, Chimp
Have you ever heard the cacophony of a troop of chimpanzees? Most likely your first experience with that noise level was from a safe distance at the zoo, watching them frolic and roll, their play punctuated here and there with a quick screech of dislike or warning. I can sit for hours to watch. It’s entertaining and funny to see all of the individuals and how they interact.
So, I was anticipating the same type of reaction when I signed up for the Chimp Trek in Kibale National Park in Uganda. But the trip was unlike anything I had seen before. We drove up to the Kanyanchu Visitor Center, walked through the interesting placard displays, listened to the lecture of how to behave, what to do and not do and then we set out in small groups with a guide. The chimp experts assured us that the chimps we would likely see on our trek that day were “habituated,” meaning they had become familiar with human spectators and would basically ignore our presence. Off we trudged through the jungle, stepping over twisted vine roots and other obstacles, scanning the treetops for signs of the chimp community.
Twenty minutes into our hike, our guide stopped in front of us and cocked his ear upward. We stopped and did the same. In an instant a huge alpha chimp appeared out of thin air. He hurdled down from the branches, landed with a thud two feet in front of us, and stared off into the darkened, dense jungle. There was nothing but silence between the jungle host and our party. He never acknowledged any of us. The ground had shaken when he landed and the hairs stand up on your arms when you are so close to that much power. No one made a sound; we were all speechless. The alpha stood motionless for an incredibly long minute. Then, a deep guttural rumble came from his throat. It stretched out and got louder, and turned into a primal scream. He launched himself at a nearby tree trunk, bouncing off and thundered his way past our group and down the jungle path. We looked at each other, jaws hanging open, and excitedly followed him. We spent the next half hour respectfully trailing him, listening to him sound his location and call to his troop. We heard his scream four or five times after that initial vocalization, but each time it brought goosebumps back and made you a little nervous. We wandered in awe through the jungle, spotting the huge nests the chimps make freshly each day. It was a bit surreal, and I continued to remind myself I was in this amazing place having a lifetime experience.
Earlier than I would have wished our guide pulled us away and lead us back toward the center. Visitors are only allowed an hour with a chimp community each day, so as not to overly stress them. The guides warn you when you set out that you are not guaranteed a sighting, so we grinned at each other as we came back into sight of the camp, complicit in our luck.
I have a video of that chimp landing in the forest. I kept filming as he stood there silently then begin his throaty scream. It still thrills me to watch it play back. I have photographic evidence of him bouncing off that trunk and hurling himself down that dank path into the jungle. But I don’t need it. I can play it back to myself in my mind, with all the accompanying smells and sounds. It’s one of those memories that you savor and cherish. One for the books and one to explain to your grandkids who will hopefully, God help us, have the same opportunity that you did: to see a beautiful, powerful primate in its natural habitat.
Article by Ellyn Ludwig
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