Establishing Rank Among the Pines of Table Mountain

by Crista Johnson (United States of America)

Making a local connection South Africa

He has a presence. One no one can ignore, either out of attraction or intimidation, when he is in the vicinity. He parades his desirable inverted triangle upper body frame proudly. Even his hair, a mousy brown, always coifed as if in reflection his current mood, makes an intoxicating impression. His thick leather-encased radio collar adds to his stature, as it hangs to the left under his chin. His name is Manni. It’s a warm summer day in the low lands of the Tokai Forest in Cape Town, South Africa. As part of the Table Mountain National Park, this forest is unique not only for its evenly spaced variety of pine trees once harvested to supply a colonial lumber industry, but also for its gregarious local troops of Chacma baboons. I am here on a research project, documenting a particular slice of scientific interest examining the human-primate interface. Today I am traveling with the Mountain Troop, or MT1, a group of approximately 80 individual baboons who reside in the Tokai Forest. It’s the lull of the afternoon, a time that allows for some rest, restorative grooming and peaceful grazing. I can smell the warmth of fallen pine needles baked by the summer sun. Brown and brittle, with no remaining green moisture they once contained. This particular area of the park, that the troop is currently occupying, is flat with overgrown yellow dry grass. Amidst the grass snakes a narrow path no more than a foot and a half wide. Along this path I discover a small elevated ledge off to the right that would make for a perfect spot to sit and engage in my own moment of rest. I must take these opportunities to sit when possible, for when a troop is on the move, so am I, unless I dare to lose them. From this spot I get an uphill view of Elephant Eye Cave that looks over the Cape Flats settlements as they press up against the dreamlike Indian Ocean Coastal suburb, Muizenberg. Muizenberg is a particularly favorite location of mine, full of cultural, ethnic, racial and linguistic diversity, as well surfing opportunities and the potential for great white shark sittings. As I sit among the grass, I scan the group, from left to right, documenting behaviors ‘Optimus (OPT) sitting, Rosemary (RSM) grazing, Sad (SAD) sitting in proximity of Homer (HMR)’. As I complete my scan, I see him - Manni - Walking along the narrow path headed in my direction. I immediately think to move out of the way of this alpha male, but to do so, I would have to stand up to navigate through thickly packed tall grass without causing too much of a scene. Standing up with Manni within feet of me could be interpreted as an attempt to show dominance over his established rank and it would simply be the wrong choice, in both of our perspectives. My only real option is to get small and shrink back into the small ledge I am sitting on, adverting my eyes away from him in an attempt to show submission and withdraw any potential of being seen as a threat to his constantly contested grasp on power. Doing so means I cannot see him as he approaches me. But I can feel him. His long coifed coat brushes across my cliche field-researcher khaki clad knees. The waterproof material swishes as his fur spreads wider than the pathway itself and across my leg. His pace is smooth, slow, confident. He is making his point that I am nothing more than grass in his way. After he passes I slowly allow my eyes to drift upwards as my head remains tilted downwards. His body width far exceeds the small narrow path, grass bends as he continues his saunter. He slowly turns his muzzle over his left shoulder, over his bulging radio collar to look at me, while continuing his journey forward. His throne is not up for negotiation today. This is not the first unplanned - at least on my part - interaction I have with Manni. But it is the beginning of establishing my status as a low ranking group member in this enchanting forest.