Aunt Julie and the Monkeys (part 2 of 3)

On Thursday, I gave Aunt Julie several options of thing we could do. Being the animal lover that she is, she said she would love to take a hike and see some of the wild monkeys I had mentioned. No problem, I know just the place. So I lead the whole family and Aunt Julie to Monkey Mountain. I took us directly to the place where earlier this fall my wife and I had seen dozens and dozens of monkeys.

I was a little surprise when we got off the bus and I didn’t immediately see monkeys. They had been all over that hill there and that bridge there. No worries, I thought. Just up around that bend is an open area where they love to sun themselves. But when we got there: nothing.

I walked ahead of the group to scout for monkeys.

Nothing.

Come on you monkeys. Where are you? Hey, we’ve got Aunt Julie here all the way from Philly. What are you guys doing? You are making me look like . . . well, a monkey’s uncle. Quit fooling around and get out here where we can see you.

After twenty minutes of brisk walking, I doubled back and met the rest of the group on the path. “We’re coming up empty,” I confessed. After a brief discussion, we decided to turn around, go back to the main road, and then figure out what to do from there. I was getting frustrated. If it's monkeys that Aunt Julie wants, then it is monkeys Aunt Julie will get.

Once back down by the main road, we decided to try the path around the lake. I had never been here before and was now working without a plan. Again, I scouted ahead and was coming up empty when my phone rang. It was my wife. “Get back here,” she said. “We’ve got monkeys.”

I hustled back down the path and met up with rest of the group in a parking lot – not exactly the monkeys’ natural habitat- but, hey, we had monkeys.

Single file, they were coming down the path and pouring into the parking lot. Dozens of them. Big, small, old, mama’s with babies. Lots and lots of monkeys. The parking lot was filling up and soon we were surrounded. I was actually getting a little nervous. I kept moving in slow circles to watch my back to make sure Bonzo wasn’t getting the jump on me and my backpack.

But, I was also keeping an eye on Aunt Julie to see how she was doing. While I was starting to sweat, she was cool a cucumber. A regular Jane Goodall, I tell ya. She was just soaking it all in, not a care in the world. Even when two adolescent monkeys started fighting and screeching a few feet away, she didn’t bat an eyelash. She just kept milling about, observing, and silently taking it all in.

Finally, we decided it was time to head out. The rest of us took the long way around to get to the bus stop. Not Aunt Julie. She walked right down the path filled with monkeys.

The spirit of Dian Fossey lives on.