With six families in residence, the area of the rain forest near Rami’s camp was filled to capacity with siamang gibbons. Singkil and her mate would have to leave the region if ever they were to find a home of their own. Finally, the young siamangs did leave, moving north toward the Ranun River, far from Rami’s camp. No human could follow their treetop trail, and Rami did not know where the siamangs had gone. He expected never to see Singkil again.
More than a year later, Rami was hired as a jungle guide by Dieter and Gretchen Hoffmann. The Hoffmanns were animal collectors. They traveled all over the world to capture wild creatures for sale to zoos. The year was 1952, and animal collecting was a perfectly respectable occupation. The wild places of the world seemed vast and indestructible. Animal populations seemed limitless. Surely the capture of small numbers of animals made no difference to a whole species. Few people could foresee the terrible problems of the future--human overpopulation and the destruction of wild habitats. In 1952, many of the best zoos in the world obtained most of their animals from dealers like the Hoffmanns.
Dieter and Gretchen were making their first trip to Sumatra. They hoped to bring back a variety of the island’s incredible wildlife, but they were especially interested in animals that were rarely seen in European or American zoos, animals like siamang gibbons. Rami was willing to help the Hoffmanns locate animals. However, he had no intention of taking them to his camp. He did not want any of the siamangs he knew to be captured and sent to zoos thousands of miles away.
Instead they headed north, toward the salt caves. Near the Ranun River were cliffs made of soft, salty white stone. Like most animals, the forest elephants craved salt, and they had the built-in means to get it. Bull elephants stabbed at the soft rock with their tusks, gouging caves out of the cliffs. Cow elephants had no tusks, but helped to enlarge the caves with their feet and trunks and even with their tongues, by licking the salty rock until it crumbled. Countless generations of elephants had used the area, and over the centuries had made some surprisingly large caves, as much as fifteen feet high and thirty feet deep.
Rami knew that the salt caves were congregating places for many different kinds of animals. Perhaps the Hoffmanns could capture some of the wild creatures that visited the elephant caves to eat salt.
When they neared the area of the caves, Gretchen and Dieter instructed their helpers to set up camp nearby. Then they asked Rami to show them the caves. It was late afternoon, and they didn’t expect to see much activity before dark. Still, they were anxious to look over the site and develop some work plans. The three humans carried no equipment and moved quickly on the soft forest floor. When they reached their destination they hid behind a clump of bushes. From there they could see the caves without being noticed by any animals who came to lick salt.
From their hiding place, Rami, Dieter, and Gretchen had a clear view of the entrance to a large cave. The cave was too deep, and its ceiling too covered with branches and vines for them to see inside. At the cave opening stood a female muntjac, a small deer with a reddish coat. The doe was licking the base of the cave wall, intent on obtaining sale, apparently unaware of the humans close by. The forest was quiet, and the muntjac seemed to be the only wildlife around.
After a few minutes the doe raised her head and sniffed the air. Suddenly she seemed to sense danger. She gave her warning cry, a series of loud noises like a dog’s bark, noises that explain the muntjac’s other name--barking deer. The doe turned and bolted into the forest.
An instant later the three humans heard scrambling noises from inside the cave. Before they had time to guess what it was, two hairy black forms emerged. Siamangs! Alarmed by the barking deer, the gibbons were in a terrible hurry. The first siamang did not even stop, but leaped from the top of the cave entrance upward across an open space to a tall tree, and disappeared noisily into the forest. The second animal hesitated for a moment at the cave entrance. Then it too made a great flying leap, reaching out for the same tree branch.
The second siamang missed. The animal fell forty feet to the ground. The watching humans held their breath, stunned, waiting for the gibbon to recover. But the siamang lay still.
