‘Tis birthin’ season in Gombe.  At least for the baboons.  White Thorn, top female of BA, started out things early in May, adding Wangati to the ranks of cheeky little monkeys.* Then about a week and a half ago, Ugly Umea showed up one day with a spazzy little black thing cupped to her chest.  It took me two days to figure out it was a boy and, as of yet, he doesn’t have a name (U’s are getting trickier by the birth).  A few days later, Alectra popped out a little female and with very little lobbying on my part (and a haphazard Google search for obscure plant species) she became Andrea (pronounced “ahn-dray-uh”, since that’s how people say my name here…if I tell them the real pronunciation they invariably think I’m saying “Angela”).  This naming after researchers and assistants is fairly common among the baboon people, but it often doesn’t end well, with, so far, only Sufi’s namesake making it past childhood.  My fingers are crossed, though.  In the next week we’ll likely see Akita and Ubergiji (who mostly waddles anymore) add members to the ranks, and then there will be a steady trickle on into October (pretty much everyone’s pregnant now).

Giving birth boosts your status in the baboon world the same way the acquisition of a Lamborghini or the production of a popular mainstream album might amongst humans.  Suddenly, everyone wants to say hello to you, rank be damned.  The highest-ranking female will sidle up to you, lips a’smacking, grunting away like a pig at the trough, just so she can touch the little squirmer.  No one chases you, or, if they do, everyone comes to your aid, shaming your attacker into next Sunday.  You also get to sit with the cool kids and sometimes they even groom you.  You can supplant higher-ranked females, especially that witch who kept stealing your spot in the msongati tree.  And all because you got knocked up.

Brand new babies have sparse black fur and squished little faces.  They sleep a lot and need a little help holding on at first (new mothers have to hop around on three legs, clutching the baby to their chests).  Their faces and butts are an angry pink and they end up screaming fairly often because everyone and their dog is trying to man-handle them, grabbing them by whatever appendage is handy (usually a leg) as they try to tug them away from mom.  From what I’ve seen, mom seems like she’s expected to put up with this and then, depending on rank, she can either walk away or smack someone.  I’m surprised they don’t just all do the latter.

* Side note: names are handed out according to a couple different conventions.  First of all, kids’ names start with the same letter as their mother’s name.  Second, each troop has some sort of theme, which isn’t remotely apparent given the spread of monikers (BA, apparently plant themed, sports a White Rose, a White Thorn, a Wildflower but also an Antigua and an Acapulco)