Sometimes when I’m feeling kind of emotionally jumbled and a little bit out of sorts inside, I log on to YouTube and I watch footage of the baby gorilla that was born last year at the San Diego Zoo. Just watching that sweet monkey baby makes my thoughts settle instead of scatter – and it reminds me that anybody who doesn’t buy into the theory of evolution is someone who is probably not fully evolved himself.
The gorilla had to be delivered by a C-section, a rare procedure in the monkey world. In the video that I like to watch, this furry baby-being is swaddled in a pink blanket and eating ravenously from a bottle held by a human, and I’ve seen some pictures where she is clutching a gorilla stuffed animal in one tiny but strong-looking fist. At the end of the video she is reunited with her mother, a gigantic gorilla now branded with a scar across her abdomen that somehow manages to look less horrible than the one Britney Spears flashed to the cameras during those psychotic-breakdown days when she couldn’t remember to take her meds or toss on a thong. This mommy gorilla comes into the space where the doctors have left her baby upon a pile of soft-looking hay and she leans down and she smells it and then she instantly gathers her baby into her arms and happily nurses her for the rest of the day.