By Jay Scott Kanes
(First of Three Photo Sets)
A COUNTRY PARK, Hong Kong – On the recent holiday weekend for China's National Day (October 1), the official events in Hong Kong and those on television from the Chinese mainland shared a common problem – the wearisome presence of government officials.
Eager to spend my time with more noble companions, I located some tiny individuals (many about the size of former Chinese president Deng Xiaoping) who may look and act much like government officials. But they're vastly more interesting.
My quest led to the Monkey Hill in a country park north of Kowloon. That's home to many of Hong Kong's several thousand macaque monkeys, who appear there perched on posts, clinging to trees and ambling along hillsides. Never mind that most of Hong Kong's real monkey-business happens in company boardrooms, SAR government buildings and the Liaison Office of the Central People's Government.
Even when stepping from a taxi, I spotted monkeys near the roadside. Blatant jaywalkers, some of the primates scrambled dangerously between passing cars on the busy highway. Safety-conscious ones used a nearby overhead pedestrian walkway.
These monkeys aren't shy. Some sat on a road leading into the park, reluctantly stepping aside when a car or truck turned off the highway and approached. Others clung to the highway railings as if ready to hail taxis. One rested a paw against a PCCW phone booth. Did he plan to place a call?
When a taxi stopped to deliver another human visitor, a monkey hopped onto its red engine bonnet. Instead of welcoming this potential fare, the cabbie shooed away the animal.
Prominent posters in the park warn visitors to “protect yourself from monkeys” and to “stop feeding feral monkeys”. They caution against “eating when monkeys are watching you” in case the envious little guys gang up to grab the grub.
Initially, I envisioned staying alert to prevent the monkeys from swiping my spectacles, wallet or even camera. Maybe they'd turn the tables by photographing me instead of vice-versa.
Actually, most of the macaques behaved like tolerant hosts. Youngsters, seniors or in-betweens, they showed little fear or hostility. If I avoided sudden moves, they let me quietly approach and expressed few objections as I shot photos at close range. Despite their failures to smile on cue, I doubted if professional fashion models could co-operate better.
Peering into the faces, especially of older monkeys, gave me powerful impressions of savvy and wisdom. I never feel such sensations from watching the TV images of Chinese president Hu Jintao or Hong Kong chief executive Donald Tsang.
Unperturbed by my presence, the monkeys continued their regular activities – climbing, foraging, munching on plants, toting babies, ambling about, checking for insects in each other's fur, watching humans for possible food handouts and even (apparently) meditating. The favorite multi-task involved napping as a partner inspected and picked impurities from one's fur. That looked every bit as relaxing as a spa treatment.
Allegedly, most wild monkeys in Hong Kong have descended from pets released in the 1920s. One variation, the rhesus macaque, is native to southern China. The animals like to live in large groups. Up to 200 may eat, sleep and hang out together. Females can breed by age four and then give birth to a baby per year.
Hong Kong's Wild Animals Protection Ordinance forbids anyone without a permit from feeding the monkeys. Offences may lead to fines of HK$10,000. Supposedly, too much food from humans makes the monkeys greedy and aggressive, ready to mug anyone who holds shopping bags.
According to the Agriculture, Fisheries and Conservation Department, “The feeding ban is a measure to:
-- reduce monkey nuisances and attacks;
-- curb the unnatural growth of the population of monkeys;
-- reduce monkey deaths in traffic accidents by avoiding monkeys staying along the road for feeding;
-- help monkeys revert back to their skills to forage in the wild; and
-- minimize any possibility of disease transmission between monkeys and humans.”
Some monkeys, seen munching on berries and leaves, clearly possess the skills and motivation to focus on finding edible plant-life. Others show more enthusiasm to forage at the bins where people place rubbish.
One monkey chewed on slices of bread. “Why not make a sandwich?” I wanted to suggest.
A nearby poster declared: “Monkeys are primarily vegetarians. They have excellent memories and high learning capacity in discovery of new food sites. They can recall their experience of foraging and adapt to different plants for food as the season changes.
“Rhesus macaques take mainly fruits, seeds, roots, buds, sprouts, grass, leaves, algae from ponds and even mushrooms for food. Longtailed macaques eat mainly fruits, buds, sprouts and young leaves. They also feed on insects and small invertebrates.”
Suddenly, a brainstorm hit me so I asked the monkeys within earshot: “Hey, do any of you guys want to move to Lamma Island where I live? It's a good place. You'd like it.”
One macaque looked quizzically at me before diverting his attention to scratching an armpit. None gave a direct reply.
Yung Shue Wan, my home village on Lamma, would become so much livelier with resident macaques. Imagine them climbing onto balconies, swinging from awnings and tugging at dogs’ tails!
Wisely, I resisted a desire to grip any two monkeys by their paws and lead them straight to the Lamma ferry pier in Central. They enjoy their country park. Surely, a pushy human urging them to move, or even touching them, would get bitten by sharp teeth and pummeled by fist-like paws.
The primates' behavior outshone that of passing people. Most humans strolling past carried sticks and waved them at the nearest monkeys. What needless hostility! Why do people feel threatened by these small relatives from the animal kingdom? Personally, I felt happier and more relaxed among the monkeys than I ever do on the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui or Causeway Bay.
As for the monkeys' perspective, I imagined them thinking: “Humans grow taller than us, but they're timid and easily frightened, definitely an inferior species.”
Nasty people sometimes try to stab the monkeys or place traps in the park, but experts warn against eating monkey meat. The Wild Animals Protection Ordinance stipulates stiff fines or jail terms for hunting or deliberately disturbing wild animals.
Overhead, the tree branches heaved and swayed as macaques swung among the leaves. Unlike Lantau Island's Ngong Ping cable cars, their sky-transport system never breaks down.
Then a sprinkle of warm liquid traced a path along my right shirtsleeve and forearm. Surprised, I glanced up into a tree just in time to sidestep a new stream of falling monkey urine. Someone among the leaves disliked me. Had the suggestion of moving to Lamma aroused more resentment than I realized? Later would fellow passengers on the Lamma ferry sniff out my from-the-sky perfume?
Not annoyed at all, I felt amused, appreciating the mischievous monkey's sense of humor. His behavior brought to mind the less funny ways that Hong Kong's leaders treat the local people by favoring big business and neglecting to defend public interests against the central government.
Several monkeys scaled towering trees, ascending into the sky. Their climbing skills made me think of how the central government had exploited the National Day for propaganda by launching a lunar-probe rocket then – a mildly impressive feat, but one that solves no problems on the ground. The agile monkeys impressed me more.
By the time I left the monkeys, I felt spiritually rewarded for visiting them. Maybe I can mingle with the same crowd next year. What better time than China's National Day to meet with monkeys?

Happy to pose: 'How's this for my best angle?'

Youngsters love to hang around.

Why not make a sandwich?

Into the clouds: monkeys scale a towering tree.

Rubbish duty: alert to what enters the bins.
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