TANJUNG PUTING NATIONAL PARK, Indonesia — Their black eyes peer from the slats of wooden cages, hundreds of orangutans orphaned after their mothers were shot or hacked to death for straying out of Indonesia’s rapidly disappearing forests in search of food.
No one wants to get them back into the wild as much as Birute Mary Galdikas, who has devoted a lifetime to studying the great red apes, now on the verge of extinction.
And for the first time in years, there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon, thanks to a Hong Kong-based development company’s plans to protect a 224,866-acre peat-land forest along Tanjung Puting National Park’s eastern edge.
“The problem has been finding a safe place to release them,” said Galdikas, 64. “Many are ready to go right now.”
A half-century ago, more than three-quarters of Indonesia, a sprawling archipelagic nation, was blanketed in plush tropical rainforest. But in the rush to supply the world with pulp, paper and, more recently, palm oil — used in everything from lipstick and soap to “clean-burning” fuel — half those trees have been cleared.
It is here, in scattered, largely degraded forests, that almost all the world’s 50,000 to 60,000 orangutans can be found. Another 1,500 live in a handful of crowded rehabilitation centers, many of them rescued after their mothers were killed.
Fadhil Hasan, head of Indonesia’s palm oil association, denied plantation workers were intentionally killing orangutans to protect their crops from raids, saying villagers involved in the illegal wildlife trade pose the greatest threat to the apes.
“Sure, maybe it happens occasionally,” he said. “But the businessmen who run these plantations, and their workers, understand that these animals are protected.”
Young orphaned apes can’t be released directly into parks like Tanjung Puting — home to 6,000 orangutans — because of a 1995 decree prohibiting the release of ex-captives into forests with large wild populations, primarily over fears they will introduce diseases.
But the small patches of trees that remain are inadequate for their breeding needs and massive appetites. In the wild, the giant apes spend almost all of their day looking for fruit, consuming up to 20 percent of their body mass.
“We manage, just barely, to give them what they need for adequate lives,” said Galdikas, as a dozen caretakers lift shaggy, young orangutans from their sleeping cages so they can spend much of the day frolicking in trees. “The problem is that it’s just barely.”
Some come in traumatized. Others require long-term medical attention after themselves being beaten. And all need to be fed and cared for, taught how to forage for fruit and shown how to build treetop nests for sleeping. That costs hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, money some critics say would better go toward protecting those left in the wild.
“Yes . . . but really, what choice do we have?” Galdikas asks. “They are in this situation because of what we, humans, have done to them. We can’t just abandon them . . . stand by and watch as they go extinct.”
