A recent scene at the Bronx Zoo gorilla exhibit:
On the left side of the enclosure, standing five feet away from the glass wall separating man and animal, is a big male gorilla. He crosses his arms as he gazes out at his adoring audience. The humans are thrilled – “He has such sensitive eyes!’ is a common refrain – but the gorilla looks a little bored, as if he’s tired of the crowds. Nevertheless, it’s a poignant moment of primate solidarity.
Another gorilla is crouching off to the right side of the grass. Her back is turned and, at first, it’s not quite clear what she’s doing. Her hand is cupped underneath her and she seems intently focused. After a few minutes, however, it becomes all too obvious that she’s shitting into her palm and then carefully picking through her shit. Occasionally, she finds something worth eating, which she pops into her mouth like candy. It’s fascinating to watch. It does, however, slightly deflate the mood. One boy begins shouting “Gross! She’s eating her poop!” . The female gorilla pays him no attention.
What I love about this moment is that it captures the complicated set of feelings I always have when I see primates at the zoo, or even in a science lb. There is, on the one hand, the recognition of common descent. As Darwin noticed, all primates share a common set of facial expressions. Looking into the eyes of a gorilla is like looking into the eyes of a child. And yet, there is this stubborn chasm, the mutual incomprehension of different species.