Sweet mango season arrived earlier than usual that year, painting the entire valley with a golden glow as the fruits ripened under the generous sun. For most people in the village of Aroya, this was simply a sign of a prosperous harvest. But for me, it meant something far more special: it was time to visit Jade and Julina again.
Jade and Julina were not just ordinary creatures; they were two of the most beloved residents of the Aroya Wildlife Sanctuary. Jade—gentle, warm-toned, and unusually expressive—was a golden-furred macaque with bright observant eyes. Julina, her companion, was slightly smaller, silver-furred, and known for her soft, trilling calls that echoed through the forest every morning. Together, they had just welcomed a new baby—who had already gained a reputation among the caretakers for being astonishingly lively.
Everywhere the caregivers went, they heard the same amused comment: “That baby tries to eat everything with its mom. Everything.”
And so, with a basket of freshly cut sweet mangoes in hand—fruits that Jade and Julina adored—I stepped onto the familiar forest path. The air was damp and fragrant with the smell of wet leaves, and occasional beams of sunlight filtered down through the tall canopies overhead. The monkeys loved this season. Food was plentiful. Shade was abundant. And the sanctuary brimmed with life.
But this story wasn’t simply about wildlife observation. Not anymore. Over the months and years, Jade and Junila had become more than animals to me—they had become a small part of my emotional world. I had come to understand their habits, their personalities, their subtle moods. Feeding them sweet mangoes was a ritual that went far beyond nutritional care; it was a gesture of connection.
The Path to the Enclosure
As I walked, I could already hear the sounds from the enclosure—playful chirping, rustling of hay, and occasional squeaks from the new baby who, according to Marta the senior caretaker, “had no volume control whatsoever.” The thought made me smile.
There were days when the baby’s excited noises traveled so far that visitors who still had their tickets in hand asked, “Is there something wrong with the baby monkey?” At which point the caretakers burst into amused laughter and replied, “No, that’s the sound of a baby who wants to try every fruit before its mother even touches it.”
I shifted the basket in my grip, making sure the mangoes were safely padded beneath a clean cloth. The sweet, rich scent of the ripe fruit drifted upward. Mangoes were Jade’s absolute favorite. She didn’t just eat them; she cherished them. She savored each bite, her expression softening into something resembling gratitude, as if the fruit reminded her of a more peaceful childhood before her rescue.
Julina, on the other hand, approached mangoes differently. She ate them quickly, almost as though she feared they might disappear, and then watched Jade finish hers with wide, patient eyes. Her baby—who still hadn’t been given an official name—had already begun to imitate her movements.
A movement in the trees to my left caught my attention—two young sanctuary macaques were hopping playfully, chasing each other through the branches. They paused only to stare at me, likely hoping I’d drop a fruit or two. I gave them a polite shake of my head.
“No, no, you two. These are for Jade and Julina.”
One of them gave an exaggerated pout before leaping away.
Reaching Their Home
The enclosure was tucked into a serene corner of the sanctuary, surrounded by willow trees and banana plants that provided shade all year round. The area had been built to mimic the natural habitat the macaques might have enjoyed in the wild: branches arranged at various levels, a shallow pond, rope swings, stone clusters, and leafy hides for resting.
From outside the fence, I spotted them immediately.
Jade sat calmly on a thick branch, holding the baby close. She always held it with such care, even when the little one wriggled relentlessly. Her soft golden fur glowed in the streaks of sunlight that passed through the canopy. Julina was nearby, crouching next to a bundle of hay she had been rearranging. She looked up the moment she sensed me approaching.
The baby reacted first.
It squealed—loud and joyous—its tiny arms flailing. Then it tried to climb onto Jade’s shoulder, only to slip slightly and cling to her fur with frantic determination. Jade tightened her hold reflexively and chattered softly, a noise somewhere between scolding and amusement.
“Good morning,” I whispered as I approached. “Look what I brought… sweet mango.”
If monkeys could smile, I swear Jade almost did.
Julina chirped happily, a melodic, bubbling sound that vibrated through the enclosure.
And the baby? It made a high-pitched squeak that seemed to say:
“GIVE IT NOW!”
Opening the Basket
As soon as I placed the basket on the feeding platform, all eyes—especially the smallest pair—were locked onto it.
I lifted the cloth slowly, dramatically.
Not for my entertainment, but because Jade enjoyed watching each step. She liked predictability. She liked understanding what was coming. Julina preferred excitement, but Jade preferred gentleness.
The mangoes shone in shades of deep gold and faint green. Their skin still smelled of the orchard, sweet and tangy.
Jade leaned forward slightly, her expression softening. She reached out a cautious hand toward me. I offered her the first mango.
She took it with surprising delicacy—fingertips barely brushing my own—and held it like something holy.
Julina stepped closer as well, ready for hers. I handed her a firm, plump slice, and she immediately nibbled at it with speed.
The baby, meanwhile, watched in utter fascination, its tiny head bobbing rapidly from one adult to the other, as if trying to decide whose mango looked more appealing.
Jade noticed. She gave a faint sigh, then lowered her mango toward the baby.
The baby leaned forward eagerly—only to grab the mango with both hands and smear juice all over its face before managing even one bite. Mango strings clung to its cheeks, and its eyes sparkled with triumph.
Julina paused mid-chew to stare at her child, as though this was the most ridiculous, adorable thing she’d ever seen. Then she resumed eating, but slower now, keeping an eye on the chaos.
I couldn’t help chuckling. “Look at them… look, the baby is so active and trying to eat with mom.”
And it was true—no one could stop this baby. Not even Jade’s gentle attempts at teaching careful bites. The baby just wanted to experience the mango fully—chewing it, wearing it, sometimes even throwing little pieces on the ground as if to test gravity.
