Gerrie Nelson - Lab Notes

“We’ll be fine,” Conway said, patting his sidearm as they headed toward the woods.

Diane retrieved the restaurant take-out containers from David’s jeep. After stuffing a few French fries into her mouth, she placed the Styrofoam boxes in the back seat of the golf cart along with the canvas bag of darts and climbed in beside them.

With David and Wilbur in the front seat, they set out on the hunt. Diane leaned forward. “Wilbur, since you’re driving, do you mind if I carry your air rifle back here?”

“Do ya know how to use it, doc?”

“I’ve darted research animals before.” Actually, she had used an air pistol, not a rifle. And most of her gun-toting experience had been with shotguns in the jungle. But she felt she could handle a rifle if she had to.

Wilbur grunted in disapproval, but handed the rifle back to Diane.

David had brought a spotlight. But Wilbur said he knew the trails like the back of his hand. “Better to sneak up on the chimps in the dark”, he said.

They rode along the perimeter trail in silence, listening. To their left, through the trees, they could see the lights of the primate house.

“Head to the lights,” Diane said. “I want to bait the trail. Maybe some of the chimps will follow the food back to their cages.”

Wilbur turned left at the next intersecting trail and headed for the primate house.

Diane tossed out French fries, one by one, as they moved along. To the east, toward the bay, they heard a chimpanzee scream. Closer in, tree branches cracked as if under a load. It was going to be a long night.

They baited the primate house with beef ribs then rode toward the trail that ran along the bluff. A hazy half-moon aided visibility.

David motioned for Wilbur to stop. “Listen.” He pointed to their right. Off in the woods, underbrush cracked in a rapid rhythm. Someone, or something, was running. Then a chimpanzee screamed.

They heard a pop and saw a flash of light followed by shouting. Then a spotlight turned on.

Wilbur steered into the woods. The cart bumped along the uneven ground heading toward the light and the sound of angry voices.

By the time they reached the two policemen, Officer Conway—presumably the shooter—had removed a tranquilizer dart from the butt of Officer Sabbatini whose speech had become somewhat slurred.

“Let’s get you back to the offices,” David said and assisted him as he stumbled toward to the cart. “You’ll be alright,” he assured the policeman. “That dosage was intended for an animal about half your size.”

Satisfied that his partner would live, Officer Conway shouldered his air rifle and walked out the trail heading east.

David turned Sabbatini—by then rather docile—over to Maxine in BRI’s lobby. She showed him to a sofa where he collapsed in slumber.

Suppressing their laughter, Diane, David and Wilbur headed out again. Their first stop was the primate house where they discovered Hear, See and King happily gnawing on beef rib bones.

David and Diane carefully locked their cages. Kong and Speak, both aggressive males, were still out there in the woods.

Wilbur steered the cart toward the center trail. “I’m not as concerned about the chimps as I am about sharing the woods with ‘Officer Quick Draw,’” he said.

“He walked in the other direction,” Diane assured him. “Why don’t we drive a little closer to the center, stop the cart and listen for animal sounds.”

With everyone in agreement, they drove a short distance east of the primate house, parked the cart and sat very still. A breeze had come up. Tree limbs rasped together. Spanish moss swung from the branches, pulling the eye in every direction.

Diane gripped the rifle that lay across her lap. She knew the chimps were terrified, therefore dangerous. She could see the newspaper story now: After a career spent trekking hundreds of miles through the treacherous jungles of Central and South America, a scientist is killed by chimps on a jogging trail south of Houston. Or, if written by an animal rights activist: After months of imprisonment and torture at the hands of depraved scientists, chimpanzees revolt.

Something crashed onto the cart roof, and the threesome bolted as if a bomb had gone off. Shaken, they stood on either side of the vehicle looking up at the culprit: a fallen tree branch.

They decided to walk awhile.

David and Wilbur toted the air rifles. Diane slung the bag of extra darts over her shoulder and carried the remaining box of ribs and fries. Wilbur shined a dim flashlight at their feet as they headed toward the middle of the compound.

After ten nerve-racking minutes of bump-and-go, the trio approached a large clearing. Immediately, they spotted a commotion on the opposite side. Then they heard a screech and a shout.

Staying inside the tree cover, they hastened toward the noise. As they neared, they recognized Raymond Bellfort’s voice. They approached him from behind.

Bellfort was waving a baseball bat at a tree limb over his head. “You shouldn’t have run from me, Darlin.’ Now look at the trouble you’re in.” His voice had an eerie quality.

Suddenly, he whacked at the branch with the bat. One chimp screamed. Then both of them jumped from the tree. One landed on Raymond’s head, the other hung from his shoulder.

The surprise impact toppled Bellfort to the ground. The chimps scattered. Then they turned and charged. One went for Raymond’s hands, the other, his head. He fought back, cussed and shouted commands at the primates, but to no avail.

Diane, David and Wilbur took a few seconds to react, then they moved cautiously toward the frenzied scene.

Wilbur was the first to take action. In the limited light, he put the rifle to his shoulder and fired. Bellfort screamed and reached for the dart as it exploded in his thigh. He kicked his legs and shouted, “Take it out. Take it out.”

Emboldened by their quarry’s agitation, Kong and Speak jumped up and down on his chest and abdomen. Diane tore open the Styrofoam box and tossed a beef rib, hitting Speak square in the face. The rib bounced off and hit the ground a foot away.

The animals lost interest in Raymond Bellfort. They jumped to the ground and fought over the rib. Diane tossed two more ribs, then snatched the air rifle from the stunned Wilbur.

“You take the left one,” she shouted at David while she loaded a dart. She aimed and hit her target dead in the center of his buttock. David missed his chimp.

Diane loaded again and fired. Pop! She hit the other chimpanzee in the shoulder.

Speak lost interest in his meal and lay down for a nap. Then Kong staggered and rolled to the ground.

The trio ran to Raymond. His head and hands were covered in blood. He was somewhat sluggish, reacting to the tranquilizer. “The dart, the dart…” he muttered.

“Hold the flashlight on him,” David said to Wilbur as he tore off his own shirt sleeve. He blotted Raymond’s face and neck to check for hemorrhage. Most of the bleeding was coming from his left ear, which was partly torn away from his head. “Put pressure here, David said.” Wilbur followed the instruction pressing the fabric against the side of Raymond’s head.

David examined Bellfort’s hands. “Looks like you lost part of your finger,” he said, tying a tourniquet around his left pinky.

After determining she wasn’t needed to help Raymond, Diane tracked down Bellfort’s golf cart several trees away. She drove back to the men and picked up Wilbur. They rode over and retrieved the other cart.

David removed the dart from Bellfort’s thigh, then helped him to his feet and half-carried him to Wilbur’s cart. He phoned Maxine and told her to call for an ambulance. Wilbur helped Diane load the limp chimpanzees onto the other vehicle.