Deep in the forest, beneath thick branches and fallen leaves, a faint sound broke the stillness—a soft, weak whimper. A rescue team, moving slowly through the underbrush, stopped in their tracks. One rescuer parted the leaves carefully, heart pounding.
There, barely moving and hidden near a tree root, was a newborn baby monkey.
His fur was thin, his limbs trembling, and his eyes not yet fully open. He looked no more than a few days old. There was no sign of his mother—no troop nearby, no movement in the trees. Just silence.
The baby was cold, weak, and alone.
Gently, the rescuer scooped him into their hands. His tiny fingers curled around a thumb, clinging with all the strength he had left. His breathing was shallow, but steady. He didn’t cry anymore—he was too tired.
They quickly wrapped him in a soft cloth, warming his fragile body with gentle touches and calm voices. Every movement had to be careful; he was fragile as glass.
Back at the rescue center, he was given a warm place to sleep and drops of milk through a syringe. At first, he struggled to swallow—but with time and patience, his strength began to return.
They named him Nino.
Nino’s fight to survive had just begun, but he was no longer alone. Every hour, loving hands checked on him, fed him, cleaned him, and gave him the comfort he’d missed since birth.
One day, he might grow strong enough to climb, to play, and to live as wild monkeys should.
But for now, he was safe.
