The Red Ape of the Forest In Borneo and Sumatra's trees, Where tropical winds stir ancient leaves, The orangutan swings branch to branch, With arms so long they seem to dance. Red-orange fur like sunset's glow, The "person of the forest" below. Eight feet of reach from arm to arm, They navigate without alarm Through canopy one hundred feet Above the jungle floor complete. Their hands like ours with thumbs so neat, Make tools from twigs for honey sweet. The males grow cheek pads, wide and round, When maturity comes around. These flanges show their status high, Beneath the green-canopied sky. Their long call echoes through the wood, Claiming territory as they should. The mother cradles baby tight, For seven years, both day and night. The longest childhood in the wild, She teaches every forest child Which fruits are ripe, which leaves to eat, How jungle life can be complete. But palm oil plantations spread, Where ancient forests once were fed. Just hundred thousand now remain, Of Asia's apes through joy and pain. These gentle giants need our care, To keep them swinging through the air.