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FLAKY MONKEY SPEAKS


Funny I should run into that excellent quote below by Jane Goodall just after I mentioned the interspecies conference I was planning with the local simians. Of course Jane resides among sophisticated, cultured and generally polite chimpanzees who eat termites with their pinkies raised, as opposed to the roving gangs of red-faced petty thieves I have to deal with, but as folks must say somewhere in the world, "You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your monkeys."

To get to my point, this evening I made a preliminary approach to setting up that interspecies conference. I'd just finished splitting some bucked oak that had sat too long and gotten comfortable being just the way it was, so was being stubborn and wore me out; plus I was using a wedge that needed balancing, but it was getting too dark so I ended the woodsplitting and was putting the tools back in the shed when from upmountain I heard a monkey making that settling-down whoop they make when they try to get all organized and togethered before it gets dark.

I was surprised to hear any monkeys in the neighborhood, since they'd just been through here a couple days ago and heisted my shiitake (see monkey post below Jane), but from the sound of these voices it was a rather small, likely renegade troupe, going Whoop! Whoop! A far-traveling sound. So I quick made up my handwhistle and imitated the sound as best I could with limp hands that had just been pulling oak logs apart, my initial efforts clearly causing some consternation among the monkeys regarding this very disjointed tale they were hearing from that flaky monkey just down the mountain, but I practiced till I became coherent, and the monkeys began responding.

Having never spoken Monkey before, I tried a few things like whooping backwards and faster and slower and what not, just to see what they'd say, and their calls changed accordingly: so I was saying something, but I didn't know what it was. I tried a few things that I thought might sound to monkeys like "Beat it!" or "This is my turf!" But they just emitted that monkey chuckle, said something in the tone of "We know where you live." I then played a couple of bars of the Star-Spangled Banner, which met with total silence, but then I realized that of course they'd never heard it before (definitely the first time in the history of the universe that that anthem has been heard on this mountain). To be diplomatic, I played a couple of bars of Kimigayo (Japanese national anthem), but the silence was just as deep. Clearly the monkeys are not into anthems of any kind; which is, on the face of it, very understandable.

So I reverted to the settling whoop, when I suddenly realized from the return calls that the monkeys were drawing steadily closer; at this time of evening they shouldn't be moving at all. They also seemed to be increasing in number, while my number remained unchanged. At that moment I had to admit that perhaps I'd been a bit hasty; I simply wasn't ready for an interspecies conference right here and now, what with no secretariat, no buffet, not even a good cocktail bar.

And then there was the big problem of interpretation: for all I knew, I might be saying "Come and get it!" and before long I'd be standing there surrounded by very disappointed monkeys going through my pockets looking for interspecies loans. So I headed for the house and left the conference for another time. At least we got a dialog going, though; maybe I'll try again in the morning before breakfast, when I'm much more apelike.