MacRitchie Reservoir

A view of the Reservoir.

If travelling is  limited to only seeing what’s in front of you -- cities and sights -- than you would miss a lot of amazing indicators that you are in a new place, country, or region.  Plants and animals are equally indicative of the place you are.  There are even regions  that are known for their animals and plants more than anything else.  Think Madagascar; if something other than a lemur or a baobab tree comes to mind, I’d be very surprised.  What comes first when you think of Australia; the Sydney Opera House or kangaroos and koalas?

I’ve always loved the outdoors and I’ve always loved animals.  I remember my first trip outside of North America, a trip to a place that had flora and fauna very unlike what I was used to in Canada.  It was Guatemala, and research hadn’t prepared me for the feeling of total unfamiliarity that comes when even the plants and trees around you are unusual.  I still remember the feeling of amazement at the yucca tree, a squat version of a cactus and a palm tree’s offspring.  Though the only animals I was lucky enough to see were wild dogs, romping through the cities and countryside, the ecology was enough to inspire.


Since, I’ve seen wild crocodiles in Vietnam, elephants in Thailand, and hopefully very soon, orangutans and proboscis monkeys in Borneo.  Those monkeys are rare; the ones you’ll soon aren’t so.  Recently I went to MacRitchie Reservoir in central Singapore, which, unbeknownst to me, is a trove of different animals on land, in trees, and in water.  Singapore has protected its natural water supply by cordoning off a major tract of wilderness in the middle of island, and designating the surrounding forest as a wildlife reserve.  It is one of only two urban primary rainforests -- the other being in Rio de Janiero -- and I went here seeking some respite from the concrete jungle.

He was a good listener.

The entrance was entirely overrun by monkeys.  It was like stepping into a zoo without walls.  They ran amok, eating, stealing, squealing.  The farther from the entrance, the more wildlife I saw.  Monkeys in the trees.  Monkeys on the boardwalk.  Fish in the water.  Lizards on the ground.  Kingfishers flitting around the lake, diving in and out.  I was walking with gusto when I heard a startled rustling; I don’t know who was more afraid, the three foot long monitor lizard or I, but we quickly sized each other up and the bluish beast deciding to slink away into the undergrowth.

About three kilometres from the entrance, I can across a troupe of macaques resting on the boardwalk.  Having never approached a group of wild monkeys, I was unsure how to proceed.  I started taking pictures and videos from a distance, being careful and alert.  It was only after a jogger ran through the group, with only a baby monkey taking interest, that I decided to get closer.  The monkeys paid no attention, and I shot pictures and videos with monkeys sitting at my feet, eating nuts, playing, cleaning, and wrestling.  I noticed that of the other people who passed, I was the only one interested.  I think it would be like if I saw a foreigner at home taking videos of chipmunks running around in the park.

Here is some of what I captured.  

(If you don't like monkeys, don't watch.  It's monkeys):

In moderation Monkey!  In moderation!