Death by a thousand cuts
It's now or never for those trying to save the critically endangered Sumatran orang-utan, as the last of its natural habitats come under threat from the chainsaw. Words and pictures by Paul Hilton
Imagine you’re stuck inside your home and the only food you have access to is what’s left in the fridge. Outside is a wasteland as far as the eye can see.
Would you sit around and wait to starve?
Or would you make a run for it, into the unknown?
One of the remaining 6,600 critically endangered Sumatran orang-utans, Avatar is not the running kind; his home forest – what’s left of it – means everything to him. The land on one side of his habitat – now only about the size of a football field – is still smouldering; that on the other side is a monoculture of palm-oil trees. As far as the eye can see are remnants of this once mighty tropical forest: charred tree stumps and smoke.
On the ground, a team from the Sumatran Orangutan Conservation Programme (SOCP) prepares tranquillising darts and moves into the small patch of forest for the second time in a month. Avatar needs to be relocated; his home will be gone within weeks.
Once the team has him in their sights, they line up a customised air gun and a dart flies through the trees. It finds its target and Avatar starts making a kissing sound, clearly in distress. Moving through the trees with speed, he swings from one branch to the next, pausing momentarily before calculating his next move. Clearly the dart has not worked.
Rain starts to fall and the team take cover under the canopy. Mosquitoes buzz around their heads; leeches cling to blades of grass, swinging from side to side, waiting for their next meal of blood.