Princess, the Quantum Orangutan

I am often asked: “How is Princess the orangutan?”

The truth is, I don’t know. The last time I saw Princess was in late October 2011. I saw her on an ecotour for just a day. She was lean, clever, and carrying on her life in the forest. She remembered many of the signs I taught her.

After that last visit, both Princess and Putri were relocated to a release camp on a different river system to prevent Princess from being attacked by aggressive females at Camp Leakey, her home since I adopted her in 1978.

Since then, I’ve only received scattered reports—one being that her daughter, Putri, came to the release camp alone, without Princess, looking agitated. Some suspected Princess might have died. But during fruiting periods, orangutans are known to avoid feeding stations, preferring to spend months in the forest foraging on wild fruit.

But beyond those glimpses and possibilities—silence.

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A Life in Quantum Balance

And in that silence, Princess exists in a peculiar way: both present and absent, both living and perhaps gone. She is in what I like to call a quantum state, much like Schrödinger’s famous cat—simultaneously alive and dead until we open the box, until someone brings proof one way or another.

“Until someone collapses the uncertainty with evidence, she remains alive in my heart and imagination.”

This is not just an intellectual trick. It is how we cope with uncertainty in the wild. Orangutans, unlike humans, don’t leave obituaries. They slip away into the forest, sometimes never to be seen again—even though they may live for decades more.

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Choosing Hope

I prefer to believe Princess is still alive—clambering through the trees, searching for wild durian, perhaps even pausing to reflect in those quiet, contemplative ways orangutans so often do.

Princess’s quantum state also speaks to something larger: the fragility of the orangutans’ existence itself. They hover on the edge between survival and extinction, depending on our actions.

• If we do nothing, the wave function collapses toward loss.

• If we act—with education, protection, and compassion—the future opens wide with possibility.

So I, the Orangutan Dad, keep Princess alive, not only for myself but as a symbol. She reminds me that while science demands proof, hope requires faith. And in that liminal space between the known and unknown, Princess the Quantum Orangutan endures.

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Postscript: A Quiet Choice

During a film shoot a few years later, I heard about an aggressive male orangutan who had been harassing the females around the release station. When I thought about Princess, I began to imagine her quietly making a choice.

She had already brought five young ones into the world and devoted years of her life to their care. Perhaps, sensing the dangers of another pregnancy and the very real risks of childbirth for an older orangutan, she decided to slip away.

I like to think she moved inland, closer to Camp Leakey—seeking peace, freedom, and the dignity of living life on her own terms.