4 years later, monkey Zimm has a new life
What do you do with a naughty little monkey that breaks free from captivity, evades a fleet of zookeepers, captures national attention, and leaves a city on monkey watch for 72 hours?
That was the question zookeepers at the Memphis Zoo had on their hands fours years ago Thursday, when a tiny Sulawesi macaque named Zimm was finally captured after running loose through the zoo’s drainage system for three days.
Since Zimm’s capture, zookeepers had to think about how to keep her from a repeat performance.
“We were trying to figure out, do we need to send her somewhere to be with a troop? Do we need to try and bring animals here?” said zoo curator Courtney Janney.
Ultimately, zookeepers decided in order to prevent any future escapes, Zimm needed a change of scenery, from her previous habitat and some new friends to go along with it.
Fortunately for Zimm, zoo trends around the world had shifted when it came to keeping and displaying Sulawesi macaques.
The species was no longer a priority for many zoos, and it wasn’t long before Memphis zookeepers reached an agreement with the Buffalo Zoo in New York.
The Buffalo Zoo agreed to send all seven of their Sulawesi macaques to Memphis in a deal that freed up exhibition space for them and bolstered Memphis’ Sulawesi macaque population to the largest in the U.S.
Around one year after Zimm’s caper, the mischievous primate found herself in a new exhibit at the zoo with a new group of macaques.
Zimm, Janney said, is a socially smart primate and has leaned into the dynamics of her new group, now on display in the China exhibit.
Because Sulawesi macaques establish social dominance through their mother’s position in the group, Zimm, whose mother is not at the Memphis Zoo, is low-ranking.
And while Zimm knows her place in the pecking order, Janney said, she still holds true to her rebellious streak that zookeepers, and much of Memphis, know her for.
When higher-ranking macaques in the group are distracted, Zimm will often sneak to the rocks on an embankment in her display, and repeatedly pucker her lips in a hybrid between a kiss and a grin at the nearest human, usually a zookeeper. The gesture, Janney says, is a Sulawesi macaque’s way of saying “Hi, I see you.”
The jailbreak
Janney had been at the Memphis Zoo less than a year on the day a zoo guest ran to her, insisting a monkey had escaped from its enclosure in Primate Canyon.
Janney considered an alternative for a moment, maybe the guest had seen a large black squirrel scampering across zoo grounds.
“But then, he described a black monkey with something pink on its hind end, and I said, “That actually sounds like a monkey in an exhibit that’s really close by,” Janney said.
Janney went charging around the corner, just in time to see Zimm dashing through a picnic area. By then 20 or so guests we all running up to Janney, pointing out the monkey on the lam.
“We drill for this moment,” Janney said, “So I got on the radio, and everybody came, and the wonderful thing is the staff really does prepare for a situation like this.”
Zookeepers tried to initially immobilize Zimm with a tranquilizer. But monkeys, equipped with opposable thumbs, often immediately pull tranquilizer darts out of their bodies, making it impossible for zookeepers to know just how much of the sedative actually make it into their bloodstream.
Besides, Janney said, in that moment Zimm likely had adrenaline coursing through her system from the sheer thrill of it all.
So, Zimm continued to run — right over the fence, into Lick Creek, and past the zookeepers already in place to catch her.
High on life, Zimm went into the drainage system with zookeepers hot on her trail.
Fortunately, Janney said, zookeepers were able to see the exact 48 inch culvert where Zimm entered the drainage system.
A quick crash course in deciphering drainage blueprints provided some instant relief. The drainage system was more modern, and more importantly, it was the zoo’s own closed-in system.
It was highly preferable to the alternative, Janney said. Zimm could have escaped into Overton Park and the world beyond.
The next 72 hours would entail dozens of zookeepers carefully searching and sealing off drainage pipes after confirming Zimm wasn’t in them.
“I don’t think I slept at all those first 48 hours,” Janney said.
On day three, zoo staff, with the help of Memphis city employees and some plumbing cameras, were closing in.
By this point a Twitter account for Zimm had been set up, and all of Memphis – and at least some of the country – was cheering Zimm on.
The team of zookeepers narrowed down the search field to a few major lines through the drainage system.
“There were two or three major lines left, and we thought, ‘Oh my gosh, we’ve missed her,’ and she was in the trap,” Janney said. “So, that last day, we kind of flushed her out of wherever she had been hiding, and we found her in the trap.”
Zimm, slightly dehydrated but otherwise healthy, was back in custody. “We were ecstatic, obviously,” Janney said. “When you ask how many people were involved with the search, I remember because I ordered about 50 T-shirts for 50 people to celebrate.”