Peanut Langurs
Yadong County, Shigatse, Tibet 西藏日喀则地区亚东县
2019-07-08
A cool morning breeze blew in our faces as we slowly drove along in the small town of Yadong. The weather was pleasant. We (me, my parents and our friends) were in Tibet. Again. But this time, in a place of Tibet unlike any other. Yadong is a low lying area, a valley, with lush vegetation and many creatures, including the graceful Nepalese Langur. It borders both India and Bhutan. We were there for it’s beautiful scenery, interesting cultures, and most of all, the wild inhabitants of the forest. We were going to investigate the border between China and India, and were cruising along a wide, tumbling river that ran through the town. Small waterfalls cascaded down from the green mountains above.
Suddenly, the car halted as someone cried “Wait! I see something!” followed by “Langurs!” and we all snapped to attention, getting off quickly. I readied my camera for action as lithe, thin shapes leaped from tree to tree. I glimpsed them moving swiftly through the trees—some even walked fearlessly on wires and electric posts—towards a man that held out peanuts. Okay, so that was unexpected.
The man was a friendly person who works for the army and loves animals. He said that we were very lucky to see the langurs this close. He comes here everyday with a couple of bags of peanuts—just in case. Langurs scampered across the trees until they reached the man, who was holding out the peanuts. Some even reached up to grab the nuts from his fists, and I was afraid they would scratch his hand to get to the food.
Surprisingly, the langurs’ touch was gentle and soft, so you don’t make contact with their nails at all, as I found out when I fed them myself. A voice piped up: “That one looks scary, is he the leader of the troop?” The man laughed and replied “Of course not, he’s much too small. You know a leader when you see one.” He was right. A few minutes later, a gigantic langur appeared out of the trees, and made his way purposefully towards us. Smaller primates fled out of his way, chittering. He fixed us with a baleful glare and turned and snatched some nuts out of the langur man’s hand. He strode off towards the middle of the road, keeping one watchful eye on the rest of his troop. If any of them put a hair out of line, he’d lunge at them and bare his teeth. Mothers fled with their children clinging on to their underbellies. The juveniles leaped back and scrambled up the hills. Most langurs avoided him and went around their leader in a wide circle. Typical rude troop leader.
For most of the afternoon, we enjoyed the langurs’ company. We watched the funny antics of the youngsters as they leaped from tree to tree, from rock to rock; sometimes one of them would slip off and land ungracefully on the ground. A tiny baby peeked out of it’s mom’s arms, blinking large, dark eyes at us. Adults, however, weren’t as lively. Most of them were sitting down and either eating or grooming. Sometimes they would have little “arguments” in which two cranky langurs would face off and snarl at each other. The fights were quickly settled, luckily without any physical contact.
Slowly, one by one, the langurs began to disappear back into the trees. A group of juveniles scurried, squealing, up the rocks. Mothers lumbered slowly over the hill with their babies until they were out of sight between the trees. Soon only a few remained, picking the remaining scraps of food. We decided to leave too, driving up the mountains until we lost sight of the graceful troop of langurs. This was a truly unforgettable encounter.
