Looks as though a course in basic feminism is not a job requirement for Philadelphia Inquirer columninsts.
Lee. ====== http://www.bayarea.com/mld/bayarea/news/3117141.htm Posted on Mon, Apr. 22, 2002 More fizzle than sizzle in this gorilla love story By SANDY BAUERS Philadelphia Inquirer He was on one side of the yard, wrestling with the boys. She was over in the sun by the tree, peacefully munching on cabbage leaves. When he wandered a little too close, she edged away. Oh, Chaka. Oh, Demba. Wherefore art thou, romance? Three years ago tomorrow, with much hoopla and fanfare, the Philadelphia Zoo brought home its new celebrity gorillas. Chaka was a young stud from Cincinnati. The Philly native had been sent west on a breeding loan. Boy, did he ever. Before he was even 15, he had sired nine offspring, having his way with every female gorilla at the zoo there. Shy Demba was a spinster from Dallas, 28 and childless. The plan was that they would meet and amour - or its simian equivalent - would blossom. Soon, zoo officials hoped, they would hear the pitter-patter of tiny gorilla feet in the primate house. Much was riding on this blind date. Chaka and Demba were to be the founders of a new gorilla dynasty at the zoo, which had lost all its great apes in a 1995 fire. Instead, they've brought new meaning to the lyric "You can't hurry love." "I wish I had better things to report," their head keeper, Julie Unger Smith, said recently. After a promising start (rumblings and a few chases) the progress of their relationship, she said, has been "subtle." So whatever happened to animal magnetism? Chaka has made overtures, such as hooting and approaching - and by rights, in the gorilla world, he could have done far more, Smith said - but otherwise he's too gentlemanly. She screams. He retreats. "I guess it's a Mars-Venus thing," said Andy Baker, vice president of animal programs. Still, zoo officials have hardly thrown in the towel. "I don't think you ever give up some level of optimism," Baker said. The possibility always lingers in the back of Smith's mind. "If Demba goes off her food, or if she's acting a little odd or sluggish, I'm always thinking, 'Hmmm. I wonder. . .' " Once, from across the yard, Baker saw Chaka embracing another gorilla. He raced over. Chaka and Demba?! Mating?! They had separated by the time he got there, and he now thinks Chaka was tussling with one of the two young males that complete the troop. But . . . Another time, he saw both their faces in the same window. Also a plus: Both have forged good relationships with the youngsters. Maybe that will prompt . . . an urge. (Then again, there could be a gorilla version of "Not in front of the children!") There's always the chance that Chaka and Demba actually have been intimate and just haven't let on. Although there are streams of pesky onlookers all day, Chaka and Demba sleep together - unchaperoned - all night. Alas, so far it appears that all they do is sleep. Smith said one would think that if there had been any goings-on, the keepers might detect something. (If not a swagger in Chaka or a smugness in Demba, perhaps at least a nod or touch?) Ah, well. Baker knows gorillas have a lower sex-drive than homo sapiens. "For gorillas, sex serves fertilization purposes," he said, "and not much else." But Demba's biological clock is ticking. In July, she will turn 32, which is at the outer edge of a gorilla's fertility. And because she has no offspring yet, she is genetically important among North America's 370 zoo gorillas. In general, the more genetic variety, the more viable the population, and these days, it's a no-no to just go pluck another gorilla with fresh genes from the wild. As for the visitors, most are oblivious to the soap opera playing out, however subtly, before them. Parents push strollers to the fence and gush in falsetto, "Ooh! Look at the big gorillas!" But when they learn what's at stake, they have a few tips. "Start pumping in some love music," said Beth Curtis of Philadelphia, who brings her son Isaiah, 2, to the zoo every week. "Barry White would be nice." Dan Wharton, director of New York's Central Park Zoo, has to be a little more practical. As the official "studbook keeper" for North American gorillas, he's the matchmaker, the one deciding who should mate with whom to keep the genetic lines going and prevent inbreeding. In the absence of chemistry between the animals, there's always technology. He's considering in-vitro fertilization or artificial insemination for Demba. It has happened. Before she fell sway to Chaka, a Cincinnati primate named Rosie bore the world's first test-tube gorilla. Meanwhile, Smith keeps watching. And waiting. She has been trying to condition Demba to being touched. Mainly, it's for better day-to-day care. If she holds out her arm to, say, have a scratch checked, she won't have to be sedated. As a side benefit, Demba might also get less skittish about having Chaka up close and comfortable. Back when Demba came to the zoo, Smith herself was pregnant. Her daughter is now 2. She wants nothing less for Demba, who inspired a kind of pity among her keepers. Hand-raised by humans and stuffed into little dresses for Dallas zoo promotions, she was 8 years old before she ever met another gorilla. It was a male, and they mated a few times, but then she lost interest. It was almost as if she was between two worlds, unable to participate fully in either one. Now, Smith watches them in the yard - Chaka's the one with the silvery back, Demba the one sitting alone, hugging a tree branch for security - and wonders what's next. "She just seems like she'd be a good mother," Smith said wistfully.
