Arun Rangsi—25 years with IPPL

Shirley McGreal, Chairwoman, IPPL
December 2006

Arun Rangsi arrived at IPPL on 9 August 1981, his second birthday, and this was a memorable day in my life and in IPPL’s history. He has enriched the lives of everyone here for 25 years.

In the 1970s, gibbons were used in experiments, and the Comparative Oncology Laboratory at the University of California at Davis amassed a large colony of gibbons, many purchased from Thailand on the international black market. The experimental protocol involved inoculating gibbons with a cancer-causing virus that would cause them agonizing deaths a few months later.

The research went on for many years. When gibbons were added to the U.S. Endangered Species List in 1976, permits became required to harm or kill them. The laboratory applied for and was granted a permit to kill ten baby gibbons a year, despite opposition from IPPL, led by our advisory board member Colin Groves, who wrote a brilliant letter explaining why the research was unnecessary. Amazingly, the Fish and Wildlife Service claimed that the application was for “conservation” purposes, as the laboratory would not breed gibbons if it were not allowed to kill them.

Then the gibbons had a stroke of good fortune. Soon after receiving its permit, the laboratory lost its National Cancer Institute funding and was forced to close its doors. Gibbons were distributed to zoos and animal dealers around the nation.

Then IPPL received a tip-off; one gibbon was not wanted by anyone and would probably be killed. He had no name, just the number HL-98, which was tattooed in blue on his chest. We at once intervened with the laboratory director to spare his life. An IPPL member living in Thailand went to the Temple of the Dawn in Bangkok, put the little ape under the protection of the Lord Buddha, and offered money for his care. The monks chose a name for him—Arun Rangsi, which means “The Rising Sun of Dawn.”

We informed the lab director that we had funds for his care. We received a sneering reply saying that the little ape was “mentally retarded” and “metabolically abnormal” and that the director would prefer to spend the money on shipping the little ape to IPPL for care. Of course we jumped at the opportunity.

On 8 August 1981 Arun Rangsi was collected by Christine Saup, then working for the Animal Protection Institute (API). Former API magazine editor Ted Crail took lots of photos. The next morning the baby gibbon was placed in a shipping crate, which had been safety-reinforced by Christine and Ted, and loaded on a Delta flight leaving San Francisco. Normally we would have had him change planes at Atlanta for the short flight to Charleston, but this was the time of the air controllers’ strike, so we decided to drive the 300 miles to Atlanta to get him, rather than risk him getting lost or stranded.

I called my dear friend Kit Woodcock, and she immediately offered to come along with me. We drove to Atlanta in the pouring rain and reached the airport just as the plane was landing. Both of us were excited and nervous. The Delta cargo staff phoned the captain and asked him if he had a gibbon aboard. He replied, “No, but we do have a chimpanzee.” We waited anxiously for 20 minutes till the sky kennel arrived. We looked into the crate, and all we could see was a pair of lustrous dark eyes. Arun Rangsi had arrived!

Soon we were on the road home to Summerville. Arun Rangsi seemed scared of green beans, maybe thinking they were hypodermic needles, but Kit hand-fed him grapes, which he loved. We arrived late at night on 9 August. It was Arun Rangsi’s second birthday.

Our little ape weighed three and a half pounds, less than half of what he should have weighed. At six days of age he had been found lying on the floor of his cage, apparently having been dropped by his mother. He was raised with a “wire swinging surrogate mother.” He was emaciated and could not swing or run like a normal gibbon youngster. His medical files showed that he was found with “multiple abrasions” over his body. They also showed that, during his first two years of life, he had pneumonia twice, bacillary dysentery twice, and that, on two occasions, had lost 10 percent of his body weight.

We learned also that he banged his head constantly. Maybe that was why the lab director thought him “mentally retarded.” He would bang his head against glass windows, walls, and any vertical surface. As a result he had a large callus above his right ear.

Unsure of what to do, we asked a Charleston human psychiatrist, Dr. Jerry Donovan, for help. This doctor, beloved in the community, made a “house call.” He suggested that I bang my head alongside Arun Rangsi and that I read Barry Kaufman’s book “Son Rise” about how to lead a human child out of autism. I tried till I gave myself a headache, and it seemed to work! Gradually Arun Rangsi stopped banging his head.

The little ape was understandably hostile to the human race. Although he only weighed a few pounds, we had to dress up in thick clothing to try to groom the flailing “monster-gibbon.” After a few weeks, Arun Rangsi began to think that being groomed was fun and decided he liked us all, including Kathy Crawford, IPPL’s first employee.

It soon became clear that Arun Rangsi was not “mentally retarded.” He was alert and observant and very aware of his surroundings. He began to play with toys. Isolation and deprivation had caused his problems. He also started eating, enjoying grapes, apples, and pears. Every night we sat with him on the couch and gave him a fortified banana milkshake. He would fall asleep knowing he was loved. His indomitable spirit overcame his early nightmares. 

In 1982, we were joined by two gibbons retired by the Laboratory for Experimental Medicine and Surgery in Primates (LEMSIP) of the New York University Medical Center. Their names were Helen and Peppy. The trio played together till the arrival of Shanti in 1983. Shanti also came to IPPL from LEMSIP. She was extremely long and thin and had a very “laid back” disposition, in contrast to Arun Rangsi’s “hyper” temperament. They have made a wonderful pair (see the back cover for more about Shanti).

If you ever studied Harry Harlow’s books about how monkeys raised in isolation—in cruel devices such as “pits of despair” and “wells of terror”—go insane, never breed, and, if impregnated by being tied down on a “rape rack,” will kill their young, you would be surprised. Arun Rangsi had not read Harlow’s books! He got Shanti pregnant. We thought this was impossible, that Peppy had to be the guilty party, but he was too far away!

We were nervous when the birth approached. Would Arun Rangsi kill his child? A little, hairless baby was born on 23 November 1985. To our delight, he swung over to Shanti and stuck his face right into the tiny baby’s face. Arun Rangsi turned out to be a wonderful father and would sometimes carry his baby around. We named the baby “Ahimsa” (the Sanskrit word for “doing no harm to any creature”), and he now lives here happily with his companion Elizabeth.

Despite the miserable start to his life, Arun Rangsi’s strong will to live and the love and support from his caregivers carried him through those first dark days, to the happy existence he has enjoyed for the past 25 years.