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COSTA RICA |
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Animals
Find Refuge in Costa Rican Rainforest Haven
By John Moore, Toronto Star
Puerto Jiménez - Paris Hilton learned the
hard way: Kinkajous just don't make good
pets. Paris's kink "Baby Luv" lost BFF
status when it bit her on the arm. You'd
think that lesson would be obvious, and yet
... those big, buggy eyes and that fuzzy
little face (on the kinkajou, that is) are
pretty hard to resist. But there's a sting
in its tail, or at least, in its paws.
"See those hands," says Earl Crews, founder
of the Osa Wildlife Reserve, as he points to
a kinkajou peeping from its hideout inside a
hollow log. "They can rip open a coconut. If
you can do that, what can you do to a couch
... or a face?"
Wild animals never lose those feral
instincts, even though they seem tame, Earl
says.
"Humans began domesticating dogs 5,000 years
ago," he says, "and we still have trouble
with dogs."
And when issues arise between animals and
humans, the animals always lose.
That's why Earl, who moved to Costa Rica
after leaving a life as a Chicago
commodities broker, started the reserve in
1996.
Now, there are about 70 or so animals in
residence – monkeys, wild cats, birds,
sloths. Earl and his wife, Carol, take in
injured and displaced animals; many others
have been rescued from the exotic pet trade,
or liberated from lives spent as
entertainers in hotels or clubs.
In one of the enclosures, a scarlet macaw
pecks at its incandescently gorgeous
plumage. Beauty, as they say, can be a
curse; these birds are among the most
threatened.
"Our guess is that there are 1,500 macaws
(in Costa Rica)," Earl says. "There are
twice that many in cages in New York City."
Most taken for the pet trade are young, Earl
says, which means the resident population is
aging fast.
"They can live for 65 to 80 years," he says,
"but they can only reproduce until they're
40, not unlike humans, so you get a
geriatric flock."
Other problems are loss of habitat through
development and hunting: The size and colour
of the birds, plus the fact that they don't
migrate, makes them easy marks.
"Here's a bird that weighs about two pounds.
If you're poor and you're hungry, you go
into the jungle and you shoot one," he says.
While Earl is speaking to our group of
visitors, there's a tug on my shirt and,
before I can look around, a spider monkey
scales my arm and lounges on my left
shoulder, bringing laughs from everybody.
"These are not tame monkeys," Earl explains.
"They're socialized monkeys ... and we're
their tribe."
While hoping that the beast has been, uh,
fastidious in his personal hygiene, it's
still a pretty special feeling to be
accepted into the tribe.
It's a tragic irony that these animals have
to live in a compound in the midst of their
natural rainforest home. The reserve's goal
is to rehabilitate them and hopefully return
them to the wild.
There have been a few successes, but years
in captivity have deprived some animals of
the necessary skills to make it on their
own. For others; nature works against them.
"These monkeys live in troupes," Earl
explains. "And they're territorial. If we
released some of them, they would have to
compete with already established local
troupes, which would kill them."
So, with the support of universities in
Canada and the U.S. (which send researchers
to work here), and private donors, Earl and
Pat and their employees and volunteers do
the best they can. But their work faces
threats, too.
"Two years ago, everyone was talking
eco-tourism, it was all green, green,
green," says Earl. "Now, they're talking
jobs." |
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