It's just 5 days old, but Hogle Zoo's newest bundle of joy is already anxious to explore its Salt Lake home.
The newborn colobus monkey tries to wiggle away from mom Toledo, swipes mom's arm and watches big sister Macari play.
Saturday, inside her primate forest, Toledo gave birth to her fifth baby — a child she conceived with dad Henry. Zookeepers came into work that morning to find the little white fur ball clinging to mom.
Trying to make the process as natural and true to the wild as possible, zookeepers will not provide veterinary care or training for the little monkey until it is 6 months to 1 year old. They have not even gotten close enough to determine the sex.
"Right now, there's no reason to interfere with the bond mom and baby have created," said Kalyn McKenzie, a primate keeper at Hogle. "We don't have to do anything because it has a really good mom."
Adds zoo spokeswoman Holly Braithwaite: "That's totally how it is in nature. We don't want the keepers to get in and interfere with those early moments. It's crucial for mom and baby."
Zookeepers can tell the baby, which hasn't been named, is healthy because it is nursing and holding onto Toledo's chest. Although tired, Toledo is an excellent mom. Tuesday, Toledo munched on carrots, crawled around her exhibit and seemed unfazed as her newest addition nursed.
Looking on was 4-year-old Macari, who sticks close to Toledo and helps groom her mom for a chance to touch and perhaps hold the new baby.
"It would be kind of like if we had an older sibling dying to get their hands on the little one — they'll do things for you," McKenzie said. "That's very common in primate societies. And it will teach her, if she has a baby, what to do."
Henry rounds out the little primate family and, while he has no participatory role in baby's upbringing, he acts as the protector of the family. When shifting from the inside to the outside of their exhibit, Henry makes sure his family all moves together and stays behind to watch after them.
Eastern black-and-white colobus monkeys have mostly black fur with a long mantle of U-shaped white fur extending from shoulders to backs. Their straight hair is long and dramatic, particularly the flowing white tail. Infants, however, are born with curly, all-white fur. Their colors change in the first six months.
The baby was estimated at birth to weigh about 1 pound and was about 8 inches long. During the next few weeks, the development will be exciting to watch. Baby will soon try to reach out and touch things. Once it doesn't need to be carried, the baby will wander around exploring — but Toledo will have a tight grip on her its for safety, almost like a leash.
Baby colobus' birth and growth is dramatically different from the last baby primate zookeepers dealt with. On Mother's Day in 2005, Hogle orangutan Eve gave birth to baby girl Acara by Caesarean section after a dangerously long labor. Because the birth was not natural, Eve did not recognize the baby as hers.
Twenty staff members and 12 volunteers hand-raised Acara and trained the pair to coexist. Raising the orangutan took tiring 24-hour shifts, wearing a faux-fur vest, modeled after Eve. McKenzie remembers long nights sleeping with Acara on her chest.
Toledo and Henry's offspring, however, is a different story. And the zoo hopes a new baby will help educate guests about the diminishing species.
The threatened monkeys are hunted for their beautiful hair and are turned into fur coats and rugs. They are losing ground in their native Africa because so many resorts are popping up in the remote areas where they live. Simple problems in the developing county like uncoated telephone wires are a deadly problem. The monkeys are electrocuted using the wires like vines as they cross over roads, McKenzie said.
They got their names because of their reduced thumbs, a feature that helps them move through trees. But scientists originally thought the stumps were a mistake. The term colobus means "mutilated one."
In African cultures, the colobus (of Old World monkey genus) are called "Messengers of God" because they live in the canopies of trees, leaping and grabbing onto vines and sunbathing up top, McKenzie said. They run back down to ground level occasionally. The high heights where they climb and jump is what gave them the unique name.
"It will be an exciting rest of the summer. Then next summer, it will be moving around and playing in that yard," McKenzie said.
E-mail: astowell@desnews.com