Macaws and Marmosets

This was the first day on her new job as an intern for a conservation crew. Carrie first noticed something unusual when the poachers were arrested in their high-rise mansion in San Diego. They left behind horns, rugs, bad examples of taxidermy, and trophy heads mounted on the walls. Once the poachers were arrested, the contents of their trade went into evidence. Carrie wondered: what happens if something is still alive?

The men were carrying out the bigger pieces to be distributed to zoos and educational programs to help protect these endangered species. Carrie catalogued the items and labeled the boxes. Above the fireplace mantel was the tiniest monkey she had ever seen. She approached it slowly; it allowed her to get close enough to put her hand out. It climbed into her hand and looked at her.

From the far corner of the room a huge blue and yellow macaw watched with interest. Carrie had been terrified of birds her entire life, and she wearily watched the bird, one of two living things left behind, hoping the large bird would stay put. She had the marmoset to watch right now.

She was there on behalf of the World Wildlife Conservation group, led by a world-renowned professor whose specialty was primatology. She approached the man in the white lab coat and asked what it was. The professor asked, “What are you talking about?”

Carrie opened her pocket a little so the professor could see. The little monkey poked his head up. The professor said, “A pygmy marmoset. How enchanting. They are found mainly in the Amazon basin, and traders bring them to China. Of course, we know money gets you everything.” He put his hand out and the marmoset jumped onto his hand. “It’s a shame, though. Most of these don’t live in captivity long. Their diet is highly specific and indigenous to that area in South America.” The little one, whom Carrie nicknamed Tiny, jumped back into Carrie’s pocket. “It seems he’s taken a shine to you.”

“His name is Tiny. Or hers. I can’t tell.”

“It looks like a male. He’s full grown.” He pulled up information on his phone. “While their conservation status is least concerned, their numbers are decreasing because in certain countries they’ve become trendy pets. They’re called finger monkeys. Tiny’s best bet is to go back home to Ecuador or Peru where he probably came from. Here’s my number. I’ll set you up with someone who apprenticed under Jane Goodall. Leila Porter is her name, and these animals are her focus of study. She might still be at Northern Illinois University.”

Tucked in her pocket, Tiny started to squeal. It was a high-pitched squeal, and she didn’t know what it meant. The professor gave Carrie contact information for Ms. Porter. “You might give her a call to find out what he wants.”

The macaw flew down and landed on Carrie’s shoulder attracted by the squeaks of the marmoset. Petrified, she stood perfectly still as the bird picked at Carrie’s hair. She considered screaming and shaking the bird off her shoulder, but she didn’t want to scare either of the animals.

She was now the caretaker for a monkey and a macaw she nicknamed Mac. She looked around the mantel to see if anything was left behind, perhaps a food source for Tiny or some seed for Mac. There were small branches there. As soon as she got closer to them, Tiny jumped out onto the tree branch and started nibbling. On the dining table in the middle of the room was a bowl of fruit which she dumped into her bag. She knew birds liked fresh fruit and seeds.

Now she knew she had to take the trees along with her. They were heavy, but they’d fit in her housing unit back at the Conservation compound. She drove home with the trees in her trunk, a tiny monkey in her pocket, and a feathered friend in her backpack.

As soon as she got home, she found a small box and put some cotton in one side, a small cat bowl with water, and one of the sticks in it. Gently she placed Tiny in the box. For Mac, she put together a crude cage made of wire from the underside of a sofa and wood sticks with furniture forming the sides of the enclosure. She put a bowl of water inside, along with the fruit and placed on another dish in the corner of Mac’s temporary home.

When she woke up the next morning, Tiny was curled up on her neck. She didn’t want to awaken him, but she had to get up to check on Mac. She placed Tiny back in his box. He preferred being anywhere else. Literally. Mac spread out his brightly colored feathers and let out a screech indicating his bowl needed refilling. She had to go fruit shopping soon.

Carrie dialed Dr. Porter’s number. On voicemail, she provided her contact information and situation. She looked around but Tiny wasn’t in his box. Not on the windowsill, the chest of drawers, the bureau. There, atop the curtain rod, he was, ready to jump again. Mac was on the other end of the curtain rod. To them, her room was a giant jungle. She was worried Tiny would become a meal, but Mac preferred seeds, nuts, and berries.

Her phone rang, and she expected Ms. Porter to be on the other end. Instead, a rough voice said, “We know you got the marmoset. We want him back. Leave him in a bag on the bench in the middle of the park tomorrow at 9 or one of you will die.” Then the line went dead. They didn’t mention the bird; it’s hard to miss a bright blue and gold 4-lb macaw with a five-foot wingspan.

This wasn’t covered in her training manual. She knew she was dealing with poachers, and they didn’t take no for an answer. Calling Dr. Porter again, she explained the newest situation. A kidnapped marmoset or death. And a macaw that still needed a home.

Without the marmoset, they’d come after her. She replied. “I’ll put him a box with holes. That’s safer for him.” After a slight pause, she asked about what to do with Mac. “Who’s Mac?” She hung up and rubbed the sides of her face in worry when Tiny jumped onto her hair. “Thanks, little guy. What are we going to do with you?” Mac flew across the room to the top of a shelf, the highest vantage point in the room. She took her phone out and wrote down the number that the threat came from. She used a couple of reverse searches to see if the number was listed, but no luck. They had to know her number and that she was part of the WWC group. They also had to know she had the marmoset.

She was approaching this as a detective would, noting the details and creating a mental bulletin board with sticky notes containing names, numbers, dates, and times. The phone rang again, and she quickly looked at the number. It was Ms. Porter returning her call.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Porter. I mean Dr. Porter. Thank you for calling me back.” She explained all that had happened from the raid on the mansion down to finding Tiny and Mac in the poachers’ hideaway and the threatening call.

“Dear me, all over a pygmy marmoset. And they didn’t mention the macaw? He’s the one who’s more endangered. About seven years ago, China celebrated the year of the monkey with marmosets going for about $6,000 each. They might be worth more now because there’s been more pressure from anti-poaching groups.” Dr. Porter continued. “If you can get him here, we can watch him more carefully. There are two types of pygmy marmosets, and DNA tests can determine what he is. Once I do that, I can pinpoint where the rest of his troop resides.”

“Troop?”

“Yes, that’s what a group of marmosets is called. There’s usually an average of 8-10 in one group, and they act as a single-family unit. As for the macaw, they’re used to being a larger group of birds; they’re social and communicate often and loudly within their communities. Large birds in general have become a popular pet, but unfortunately people don’t do their research and the macaws perish.”

“What city should I fly into?”

“Chicago is too big. Come into DeKalb Taylor Municipal Airport instead. It’s a smaller place. I’ll meet you there. If you leave now, you can be here in about 2-3 hours.”

“I can’t…I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Don’t worry. The university will cover the costs. This has been my research for seven years; I’m not throwing it away for even a single pygmy. Once I get a hold of Dr, Brightsmith of the Macaw Society, we’ll figure out what Mac needs.”

After Dr. Porter provided her the airline carrier information, Carrie threw together a go-bag for the trip. She put Tiny in a small garment washing bag and put it in her pocket with the tie hanging around one of her buttons. For Mac, she put him gently in a long carry-on pack that allowed her to wrap the bird with a soft pillowcase, covering his eyes. She drove her car to the San Diego Airport and drove over to the private side of the airport. She wasn’t travelling in a giant Boeing. Instead, she was climbing into a Cessna with a monkey in her pocket and a bird in a bag.

She was buckled in tightly, making sure not to go near that side of her shirt. She worried about the change in air pressure, but it didn’t affect her that much since the plane stayed rather low. They landed at DeKalb in a little more than two hours. She saw the van with the university colors on it. A tall woman exited the van.

“I’m glad you made it. Let me see the monkey,” demanded the lady in the blue outfit.

“Sure, Mrs. Andrews. He’s in the cargo area.” Carrie felt something was terribly off.

“Oh, ok,” replied the woman in blue. “I’ll wait here. Bring him to me.”

Carrie walked toward the back side of the plane and crossed to opposite side. She started running as fast as she could, holding on to her pocket and her bag in her other arm as she did. She ran and jumped onto a moving baggage cart. Staying low, she double checked to make sure the animals were OK. She had to find Dr. Porter soon. She pulled out her phone and contacted her. “Someone is after me! I’m at the airport, or rather under the airport now.”

“Ok. Stay there, I’m about ten minutes away. I’ll have an ugly white station wagon. You can’t miss it.”

Carrie jumped off as the cart slowed down, and she hid behind a black minivan. Her detective skills were on point. Dr. Porter wouldn’t have demanded “the monkey.” She heard an old vehicle coming down the parking garage ramp. An old Plymouth station wagon was chugging its way through the garage. Carrie emerged from behind the van and waved her down. She got into the car with Dr. Porter.

“I know this is an unconventional university vehicle, but it’s the best for transporting the marmosets between labs because they can make a mess. Pleased to meet you, Carrie. Welcome to Chicago.”

“Thank you, Dr. Porter. He’s right here.” Tiny peeked his head out of the bag. “He needs his stick. And Mac is probably ready to spread his wings a little. I can hear him rustling around in the bag.”

“It’s more of a vine, but I’ve got plenty in the lab. I’m sure I can find the right food for the bird.” Dr. Porter drove through the back roads, watching traffic carefully. “Tell me what happened.”

Carrie explained the incident with the blue lady.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

“She said, ‘Let me see the monkey,’ and I knew you wouldn’t refer to him that way. Then I called her Mrs. Andrews, and she didn’t flinch. I lied and said he was in cargo. She never asked about the macaw.”

“Good thinking. Your unit at the compound must’ve been bugged. This sounds like an inside job. How many people knew you had the pygmy?”

“Just one. Just the one professor. He didn’t notice the bird. A large blue and gold feathered macaw on my shoulder.”

“Did he give you his name? Did you say World Wildlife Conservation group?” Dr. Porter thought for a moment. “Dr. Smithers runs that group. I’m sure of it.” She asked Siri to call Dr. Smithers. “Hello, Bill. This is Leila. How are you? Oh, good. I have a question. Were you involved with the raid on the Shale Mansion today? No? Ok. Just checking, thank you.” Dr. Porter said, “This is bad. When you mentioned the mansion, I knew it was the Shale place, well-known to poachers. Dr Smithers, the one who runs that rescue, wasn’t there. You were duped by someone who was acting as a professor.”

“I feel like an idiot. I didn’t ask to see credentials.” She looked down at Tiny, who squeaked. “He’s hungry.” She peeked into the bag and saw a beak open ready for some food. “Mac’s hungry, too. He’s starting to pick at the corners of the bag.”

“Yes, they’ve been through a lot of trauma. If they’re hungry, that’s a good sign.” She pulled into a faculty parking spot at the lab. “But whoever that fake guy was - he knows me, he knew about the university. He’s a specialized poacher. Whoever is paying him is paying him very well to be that exposed. He even had someone here to intercept Tiny.”

“What do we do next?”

“We get them into the lab, feed them, identify a tiny bit of DNA on Tiny, give him some time to calm down. And then we fly out in the morning. I’ll find someone to get you a new bag from the NIU bookstore with some clothes and toiletries. Jot down a list of what you need.”

“You must have clout up here,” Carrie mused.

Dr. Porter smiled. “I’ve been studying these pygmies my entire career. My doctoral thesis was on identifying there are two difference species of marmoset that exist, not just one, which changed the taxonomic chart a little. They give me free reign and nice expense report allowances.” She laughed, “Birds aren’t part of my studies but I’m familiar with the other species in the Amazon. Macaws are endangered, and some are already extinct.”

They went into the lab, with every surface stainless steel and spotless. Carefully labelled bottles lined either wall. Then the queaks, trills, and calls of every kind started. This was where all the marmosets under Dr. Porter’s watch lived. Tiny started making noises back. He climbed out of Carrie’s pocket and jumped onto the side of one of the cages. He looked and each and every one as if he were looking for family. Carrie kept Mac in the bag.

“He’s looking for a familiar face. Let me get him some food.” She went to a basket in the middle of the room and pulled out a branch and held it aloft. Tiny jumped parkour-style and onto the stick, nibbling at it and pulling the sap from it. “He’s so hungry.” She let him finish and then held out her hand. He trustingly climbed into it. “I’m going to take a microscopic bit of blood from him. He’s going to scream, which will make the rest scream. They’re highly social creatures.”

She pulled out a tiny needle and pricked the back leg of the marmoset. The cacophony was one Dr. Porter was familiar with, but Carrie was unsettled. “They communicate with one another by certain frequencies of squeaks and trills and calls. Tiny just alerted them to his injury.” She let Tiny go, who immediately climbed back into Carrie’s pocket for safety. “This is all I need.” She put the sample on the slide. Under the scanning electron microscope, she peered in. “Southwestern. Peru. Just south of the Nano River. Pantoja, most likely, based on who he “talked” with the most in here.

Carrie stood amazed. This is what research is. Bringing back a primate leaning toward extinction and protecting it. She hoped the same could be done for the macaw. “Now what? What do we with do with Mac?” She gently brought the giant bird out of the bag, and he stepped on her shoulder, surveying the area for food. “Do we have some fruit for him?”

“Yes, there’s fruit in the fridge over there.” She pointed to the stainless-steel fridge near the door. “Luckily, I believe macaws are from an area that’s also close to the Amazon basin. Tomorrow we fly to Peru. Iquitos is safest and closest airport.”

Carrie’s eyes flew open wide. “Just like that?”

“Tiny here and the two troops over there are going along. I think Tiny will be accepted as a mature male in one of these troops. When Dr. Brightsmith calls me back, he’ll give me directions for Mac. We’re not dropping the bird off in some exotic pet store.”

A text message came across Carrie’s phone: “We will get the marmoset.” She showed Dr. Porter.

“I don’t think so.” Dr. Porter used the phone in the lab and called a number. “Hello? Merrick? Good evening. This is Dr. Leila Porter from Northern Illinois University Chicago. Yes, that one. I need a handful of officers from the ENRD here. We’ve been threatened by a poaching cartel. Yes, Sir. Two of us. And some pygmy marmosets. And an endangered macaw. No, they don’t bite. Peru. Tomorrow morning. Yes, Sir. Thank you again.” And she hung up. With one call she contacted the Attorney General of the United States.

“This is way out of my league,” Carrie said.

Dr. Porter explained. “The DOJ has a division called Environment and Natural Resources. It’s their job to handle the poachers. In a few hours, we can watch the action on the security cameras.” There was a ringing sound inside the lab that alarmed Carrie. “That’s my assistant, Linda, with food.” A chute in the wall opened and a conveyor brought in a bag with clothes and toiletries for both women, and some takeout. “Now we just wait. You can identify the fake professor and the woman in blue when the agents get them.”

Another call came through Dr. Porter’s phone. “Dr. Porter. How are you, Dr. Brightsmith? It’s been a long time.” Carrie listened in on the conversation as Dr Porter described the animals. "We’re going to Peru in the morning. Where should we take him?” Carrie waited for the reply. “The Macaw Society in Tambopata, Peru. We can get a plane there after dropping the marmoset off; it’s about 800 miles away. Will you be there to pick him up? Oh, thank you.”

This is going to be a long night, Carrie thought. I hope I can sleep on the plane.

After dinner, Dr. Porter said, “It’s peaceful here. Sometimes I just sit here and listen to them chatter with each other.” She looked at Tiny. “It won’t be long, little fella. We’ll get you home.” Mac settled in on Carrie’s shoulder, picking from her hand pieces of peach and strawberry. Dr. Porter explained, “Macaws are popular because they can mimic human speech.”

Carrie felt said for the majestic bird. They dozed off for a bit once all the animals quieted down, and then the lab phone rang. “Dr. Porter. Yes. OK. She can identify them. Put them up to the camera.” Dr. Porter turned on an old-school security screen, and outside the lab several men in uniforms stood near, and one guy’s face was nearly 5” from the screen. Then the face of an angry woman was pushed up.

Carrie nodded. "That’s who I thought the doctor was, and that’s the lady in blue here in Chicago.”

"Thank you, kind sirs. I will be sure to mention this to Mr. Garland.” She ended the call. “Now we nap until the plane is ready to take us to Peru. It’s a long flight, so you can get some sleep there.”

Carrie, the new intern, leaned back in her chair, amazed at the events of her very first day on the job. A successful raid, false identity, a tiny monkey, a beautiful macaw, a threat on her life, a private jet, another fraud, a chase, a station wagon, a brilliant PhD with connections, a room full of chattering marmosets, and a sudden trip to Peru.

“I think I’m going to like this job,” Carrie said. “Never a dull moment.”