The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times(46)

Rusty—my teacher. (JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE/COURTESY OF THE GOODALL FAMILY)



Jane’s photo collection was filled with animals as well as people. “This,” she said, with a new softness in her voice, “is Rusty.” She pointed to a photo showing adolescent Jane in riding clothes with a black dog with a white patch on his chest sitting close beside her. “But let me show you his portrait.” She brought the photo close to the laptop screen and I could see his clear eyes, full of intelligence.

“He was so special,” Jane said. “More intelligent than any other dog I’ve known. He’s the one that taught me that animals have minds capable of solving problems, as well as emotions and very definite personalities, which of course helped me enormously when I began studying the chimpanzees.

“And here is David Greybeard.” I could see the distinguished white chin hair of the first chimpanzee to lose his fear of her. The one who demonstrated to Jane that it wasn’t only humans who used and made tools.


One of the most amazing experiences: Wounda embraced me for so long and I only met her that day. (JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE/FERNANDO TURMO)



“And Wounda,” Jane added.

I recognized the image from the video of this tender interspecies embrace that had gone viral. Wounda had been stolen from her home by poachers for bushmeat, and when she was rescued by one of the JGI chimpanzee rehabilitation centers, she was clinging to life. After the first chimp-to-chimp blood transfusion in Africa, she was nursed back to health and was taken to a protected forested island in the Republic of Congo. After she emerged from the traveling cage, she turned and gave Jane a long embrace. Jane said it was one of the most amazing experiences she’s ever had. Wounda has since become the alpha female and given birth to an infant named Hope.


Wounda before and after. (JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE/FERNANDO TURMO)



“And up there,” Jane said, as she angled her laptop, “are some special stuffed animals. I get given stuffed animals everywhere I go—mostly chimpanzees, of course!” She took down one of a black robin, the species miraculously saved from extinction, which she had told me about in one of our interviews. She pointed out a few other toys representing endangered species that people are working to save.


Some of the stuffed animals I’ve been given as I travel around the world. (JANE GOODALL INSTITUTE/JANE GOODALL)



Then, from a chair beside her desk, she picked up a strange-looking monkey holding a banana. I recognized him at once: the famous Mr. H.

“He was given to me by Gary Haun twenty-five years ago,” Jane said. “Gary was blinded during an accident when he was twenty-one years old in the Marines. For some reason he decided he wanted to become a magician. ‘You can’t be a magician if you’re blind!’ people told him. But in fact, he’s so good that the children, for whom he does shows, don’t realize he’s blind. When his act is over, he explains that he’s blind, and tells them that if things go wrong for them, they must never give up, that there’s always a way forward. He does scuba diving and skydiving, and he has actually taught himself to paint.” Jane picked up a book, Blind Artist, and opened it to a picture of Mr. H. I was amazed that it was painted by a man who had never seen, but had only touched, the stuffed animal.


Gary Haun, the blind magician who gave me Mr. H. He calls himself The Amazing Haundini! (ROGER KYLER)



“Gary thought he was giving me a chimp,” Jane added, “but I made him hold the tail, and, of course, chimps don’t have tails. ‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘take him where you go, and you’ll know I’m with you in spirit.’ So Mr. H has now been with me to sixty-one countries, and he’s been touched by at least two million people because I tell them the inspiration will rub off on them. And let me share a secret that I tell the children: every night Mr. H eats a banana, but it’s a magic banana and is always there again in the morning.” She flashed that mischievous, knowing smile.


Mr. H is very famous. Everyone, especially children, wants to touch him. (ROBERT RATZER)



She picked up four more toys. “Let me introduce you to Piglet, Cow, Ratty, and Octavia the Octopus. Along with Mr. H they’re also my traveling companions.”

I asked her why they were special. “They illustrate points in my lectures. I use Cow when I’m talking about factory farming. Especially when I talk to children and I want to explain how they produce methane, that virulent greenhouse gas.” She laughed, and holding up Cow she demonstrated. “Food goes in here”—she pointed at the mouth—“and while it’s being digested, it creates this methane.” She lifted Cow’s tail to show where the gas emerged. “And I tell them cows burp, too. And there’s lots of giggling. Ratty I use when I talk about how intelligent rats are, and especially how the African giant forest rat, or pouched rat, has been trained to detect land mines that are still active, left behind after a civil war.” I knew how many people had lost a foot or leg from stepping on one of these. Jane told me that Piglet and Octavia were also props she used when she talked about animal intelligence—especially in pigs and octopuses.

She also pointed out various mementos of her life “on the road” when, before the pandemic, she traveled around the world spreading awareness—and hope. “Precious gifts, each with a story,” she said, maneuvering her laptop camera lens slowly across the packed shelves.