From the Archives: A Lesson in Sharing — Princess and the Professor’s Son

 

July 17, 1979 — Dining Hall, Camp Leakey, Tanjung Puting

It was a warm afternoon at Camp Leakey, and the open-air dining hall buzzed with quiet post-lunch activity. Plates were cleared, the thick air hung like a wool blanket soaked in humidity, and outside the screen windows, the forest hummed its usual symphony. Inside, a different kind of communication was about to unfold—one involving no words, but deep meaning.

Beneath the dining table, young Binti—Dr. Biruté Galdikas’s toddler son—had discovered a treat: a vegetable resembling corn called tabu telur. It was rare and intriguing, wrapped in leaf-like husks and shaped like something to be guarded.

So he did what any little boy might do: he took it under the table to enjoy it in private.

But Princess noticed.

She had been part of our sign language project for some time and was always curious—especially when food was involved. And she was watching Binti closely. She lowered herself beside him, peered under the table, and without hesitation, signed “food” directly to him.

Binti, still too young to sign fluently, understood the intent. But instead of handing over the prized vegetable, he began offering its outer leaves—one by one. A decoy strategy, perhaps.

Princess accepted each leaf graciously, inspecting them, nibbling lightly, then discarding them. They were, after all, inedible. This wasn’t what she’d asked for.

She signed “food” again. This time, she added “nut”—refining her request, showing her awareness that what Binti held was something meaningful. Still, Binti continued to peel back the leaves, offering husks instead of the core.

Then, in one smooth and calculated move, Princess reached over and took the tabu telur from his small hands.

Binti burst into tears.

Underneath that table, there was no parental intervention, no translator, no referee—just a sign-literate orangutan and a human child, negotiating over a prized possession in their own unique ways.

It was one of the rare moments I witnessed where a nonhuman primate used sign language intentionally and independently to communicate with a human peer—not as a show, not for a reward from a trainer, but for real social negotiation.

Princess didn’t just ask. She persisted, modified her communication, and ultimately asserted her agency.

And Binti? He did what any toddler might: he tried to hold on to something he valued. But in that exchange—leaf by leaf—he was also participating in one of the most remarkable cross-species dialogues I’ve ever seen.

A young boy and an orangutan, sharing a moment that was so much more than a snack. It was an early glimpse into how communication bridges not only species, but hearts.

— Orangutan Dad