Ting Ting, the tiniest and skinniest baby monkey in the group, was usually quiet and shy, always staying close to the edge of the shelter. Her ribs were still a little visible under her thin fur, a reminder of her rough beginning before being rescued. She had slowly started to adjust to safety, but some fears still lingered deep inside her.
That morning, the caretakers were documenting the babies to check their health and progress. A friendly cameraman entered the nursery with a big lens and slow steps. Most of the monkeys were either curious or too busy playing to care. But not Ting Ting.
As soon as she noticed the unfamiliar man holding the strange, black object, her little body froze. Her wide, glassy eyes filled with panic. She let out a sudden, sharp cry, her voice shaky and loud, echoing off the walls.
Everyone turned, surprised by the volume coming from such a tiny one.
Ting Ting backed up into a corner, hugging her little arms around herself, tears forming in her eyes. The cameraman lowered his equipment and sat still, trying to appear less threatening. One of the caretakers gently came over, speaking softly to her, trying to calm her down.
“It’s okay, baby… it’s just a camera,” the caretaker whispered, scooping Ting Ting up and holding her close.
She whimpered and buried her face into the caretaker’s shirt, her thin frame trembling slightly. The loud cries softened into quiet sniffles. The cameraman, touched by her fear, stepped away, giving her space and time.
Ting Ting stayed close to the caretaker’s chest for the rest of the morning, peeking out every now and then with a nervous glance.
She wasn’t ready for close-ups yet—but with love and patience, she’d learn the world isn’t so scary anymore.
