Orangutan Caring Week: From Awareness to Action for Our Red Ape Cousins

 

A baby orangutan clings to its mother’s back in the rainforests of Sumatra, peering out with cautious curiosity – a powerful symbol of hope and vulnerability at the heart of Orangutan Caring Week. Every year in November, organizations and wildlife lovers around the world come together to celebrate Orangutan Caring Week, a global event dedicated to saving these critically endangered “persons of the forest” and their vanishing home. What began as a simple awareness campaign decades ago has evolved into a vibrant movement blending education, emotion, and advocacy to secure a future for orangutans. In this post, we delve into the origins and purpose of Orangutan Caring Week, its journey from a small idea to an international event, the activities that inspire action each year, and how each of us can join in to make a difference.

A Letter to the Future

I recently read a "letter to the future" composed by Mongabay's  Rhett Butler as a forward to an art exhibition. I was so impressed by this means of expressing an eco-testament, I crafted my own reflective narrative. As they say, imitation is the most sincerest form of flattery.

Dear Future Guardians of Earth,

If you’re reading this decades from now, it means there is still breath in the forest… and perhaps, a glimmer of hope still rustles in the canopy.

My name is Dr. Gary Shapiro, aka Orangutan Dad. In the late 1970's, I knelt in the leaf litter of Borneo’s ancient rainforest and looked into the eyes of a young orangutan named Princess.  She met my gaze with curiosity, gentleness, love, and—if you’ll allow an old scientist a touch of poetry—a connection of ancient family and a wisdom that felt older than the forest itself.

That moment changed my life.

It’s what compelled me to dedicate my life to understanding and protecting these “people of the forest.” Orangutans, to me, are not just animals—they are fellow travelers on this fragile planet. Intelligent, yes, but also contemplative. Patient. Capable of empathy, thought, and resilience. They showed me that intelligence wears many forms, not all of them human.

I write this letter from a world that is, I fear, still learning that lesson.

Too many forests have fallen. Too many rivers have been poisoned. Too many species have been pushed to the edge for profit and convenience. But despite the odds, we’ve also witnessed the power of small actions—of communities rising to protect what they love, of students in Indonesia becoming scientists and stewards, of donors and dreamers uniting to save what they can. I have seen it in the faces of the young conservationists who received the Orangutan Caring Scholarship, many of whom now carry the torch I once held.

If this letter has reached you, it means something remained. Perhaps even something thrived.

Maybe you walk through a forest where orangutans still build their nests high in the trees. Maybe you sit beside your children and tell stories of how people came together—not perfectly, not quickly—but with heart, with wisdom, and with enough courage to matter.

I hope you live in a world that values silence as much as speed, wonder as much as wealth. I hope you’ve learned from the orangutan’s quiet strength—their ability to adapt, to think, to nurture with patience. And I hope you continue to fight for the voiceless—not because it's easy, but because it's right.

The future was never promised. But I believed it could be earned.

With care and conviction,

Gary L. Shapiro, Ph.D.

President, Orang Utan Republik Foundation

Field Researcher, Educator, and Friend of the Forest

Borneo & Sumatra, Earth—circa the 20th–21st century

Between Two Worlds: Loving Humanity, Admiring the Apes

There is a paradox that lives in my chest—one that has only grown sharper over the years following my time in the forests of Borneo. I’ve lived among orangutans—beings who were once caged, beaten, orphaned, or exploited by people, and yet who, given the chance, recover their dignity with grace. I’ve also spent decades working in service of my fellow human beings—in government, in nonprofit conservation, and in education. And it is from this perch, straddling two worlds, that I share a truth I live with every day:

I am conflicted about my own species.

I am a human. I love many humans. I’ve seen extraordinary courage, kindness, generosity, and brilliance among us. I’ve worked shoulder to shoulder with people trying to make the world better. But I’ve also seen how greed, fear, and indifference can turn us into something almost unrecognizable—capable of destroying what we claim to love, capable of pushing our only planet to the brink, and capable of torturing or neglecting those who cannot fight back: the innocent, the poor, the wild.

And in the quiet of the forest, I find clarity.

Orangutans are not horders. They do not display envy. They do not wage wars or poison rivers or chase fame. They live. They forage. They care for their young with a devotion that would humble any parent. They think. They remember. They contemplate.

There is a nobility in orangutans—especially those who have survived what humans have done to them and still choose to live, to build their nests, to raise their children, and, when possible, to trust again. I’ve known ex-captive orangutans who were shackled in roadside zoos and yet, once freed and treated with respect, looked at me not with vengeance but with quiet curiosity. I’ve seen wild mothers nurse and shelter their young with a patience and presence rarely matched by even the most mindful human caregivers.

So where does this leave me?

Some days, I feel a deep grief for what our species has done—not only to orangutans but to ourselves. We have turned away from our place in nature and confused domination with greatness. We’ve bulldozed ancient forests for cheap palm oil and let apathy drown out empathy.

But I also know this: humans can change. I have changed. Many of you reading this have changed. We can open our hearts and choose reverence over convenience. We can honor the ancient ones—the great apes—who still hold the wisdom of a quieter, slower, more connected life. And we can begin to reimagine what it means to be human not as a conqueror, but as a kin.

When I stand in the rainforest and listen to the long call of a male orangutan echoing through the canopy, I don’t feel superior. I feel small in the best possible way. I feel reminded.

We are not alone on this planet. And we are not the only ones who matter.

Let us be humbled. Let us be changed. And let us earn our place again—not through power, but through presence.

Tales of Pulau Merah – Where Mystery Meets Meaning in the Wilds of Southeast Asia

Have you ever looked into the eyes of a wild orangutan and felt—if only for a moment—that they were studying you just as much as you were observing them?

That feeling stayed with me.

It followed me into the forests of Borneo, through decades of conservation work, and more recently, into the realm of fiction writing. That moment of connection became one of the many sparks that ignited the Tales of Pulau Merah—a trilogy of mystery, philosophy, and ecological intrigue set on a fictional Southeast Asian island teeming with both natural beauty and human secrets.

From the Forest to the Family: A Father’s Day Reflection from an Orangutan Dad

By Orangutan Dad (a.k.a. Gary)

Father’s Day always makes me pause—not just as a human dad, but also as an honorary orangutan father. You see, my fatherhood journey spans not only the usual territory of raising a human son, but also the unique and deeply meaningful bond I share with my adopted orangutan daughter, Princess.

Let me start with the facts: real orangutan fathers in the wild don’t win any “Dad of the Year” awards. They tend to be the strong, silent type—often literally out of the picture. In most cases, once the mating is done, the male orangutan goes his own way. It’s the mothers who shoulder the parenting load: nursing, teaching, protecting, and guiding their young for 7 to 8 years—longer than any other mammal besides humans.

So when I call myself an Orangutan Dad, I realize I’m breaking the mold.

With my son Jason, I’ve had the profound privilege of watching him grow into a thoughtful, capable man. From scraped knees and Lego masterpieces to career choices and philosophical debates, being his father has been one of the greatest honors of my life.

But Princess added a new dimension to that title.

Princess isn’t your average daughter. She’s covered in red hair, swings through trees, and speaks with her eyes. She’s a rescued orangutan with whom I’ve shared time, stories, and gentle moments of trust. While I didn’t raise her from infancy, I’ve worked to help secure her future, her freedom, and her forest. And in doing so, I've experienced another kind of fatherhood—one rooted in protection, patience, and advocacy.

I’ll never forget the first time she looked at me with calm recognition, her deep amber eyes meeting mine with a kind of ancient wisdom. She didn’t need me to fix her toys or explain algebra. She needed me to care. To show up. To be a voice in the world that would fight for her future when she couldn’t.

And that’s what being a father really is, isn’t it?

It's about presence. It’s about protecting what matters. It’s about loving without conditions, even when that love shows up in wildly different ways—sometimes helping with homework, and sometimes helping replant forests.

So this Father’s Day, I raise a symbolic jungle leaf (and maybe a cup of strong Sumatran coffee) to all the dads—those who raised children, mentored youth, cared for rescued animals, or simply stood up for someone or something vulnerable.

And to Jason and Princess—thank you for teaching me how big a father's heart can grow.

Happy Father’s Day from this proud Orangutan Dad.

Let’s keep loving boldly, protecting fiercely, and swinging into the future with joy.

🧭 Walking the Middle Path: Orangutan Rights, Palm Oil, and the Ethics of Eating

Over the years, I’ve learned that when it comes to conservation, ethics, and how we live on this planet, the truth is rarely black and white. Working with orangutans has taught me that life is full of quiet complexity—long pauses, subtle choices, and deep connections not always seen at first glance. That’s how I approach challenging issues like animal rights, palm oil, and vegetarianism: not with rigid ideology, but with curiosity, compassion, and a willingness to sit with uncertainty.

In today’s world, where outrage can travel faster than nuance, I feel it’s important to explore these overlapping issues mindfully, acknowledging multiple perspectives without collapsing into self-righteousness or inaction. So let me offer a personal reflection on three topics that often stir emotion: the moral status of great apes, the ecological and economic impacts of palm oil, and the ethics of what we eat. These issues are linked—by forests, by values, and by our shared future.

Two Decades of Purpose: Building from the Heart, Preparing for More

by Gary L. Shapiro, President of the Orang Utan Republik Foundation

Two decades ago, my wife, Inggriani, and I set out on a path with a simple but profound goal: to help save wild orangutans through education, one student, one village, and one informed decision at a time. That goal became the foundation for the Orang Utan Republik Foundation (OURF)—an organization rooted in purpose, compassion, and a belief in the power of people to protect what they understand and love.

Over these two decades, OURF has grown not through vast funding or flashy campaigns, but through careful stewardship, good governance, and a deep commitment to working with local communities—not over them. We've built programs like the Orangutan Caring Scholarship, which has supported over 300 students pursuing degrees in biology, forestry, and veterinary science. Many of these graduates are now professionals making a real difference in Indonesia, and the Government of Indonesia has recently recognized and expressed appreciation of our twenty years of commitment to higher education supporting orangutan and rainforest conservation.

We've engaged communities through the Community Education and Conservation Program (CECP), traveling to remote villages and urban classrooms to bring the story of the orangutan and the rainforest into people's lives. And now, as we prepare to launch the next evolution of our work—the Community Conservation Mentorship Initiative (CCMI) and the visionary ROCKET program, which integrates robotics and AI into conservation—we stand at the threshold of new possibilities.

I often reflect on how far we've come with so little. Our team has done extraordinary things with limited resources, never losing sight of the mission or compromising our values. And throughout it all, I've kept a quiet but steady practice: each day, I think positively and visualize the arrival of a million-dollar gift—not as a miracle, but as a natural extension of what we’ve built with authenticity, persistence, and care.

I don’t sit and wait for it. I continue to show up. I write proposals. I mentor students. I enroll volunteers,  I share stories. I collaborate with partners across continents. I believe that the work will attract the right support when the time is right—and that we must always be ready for it.

A sudden financial gift, while welcome, means little if there’s no purpose or planning behind it. That’s why OURF has prepared: with scalable programs, clear outcomes, and deep local relationships. We know exactly how we would use a transformative gift—to expand scholarships, grow mentorship programs, empower more women-led initiatives, and deploy conservation technology that could change the future for orangutans and their forest home.

My dream is not just to do more, but to do it deeper—with integrity, with impact, and with lasting effect. That dream is real. And it is shared by the many donors, volunteers, and partners who walk this journey with us.

If you’re reading this and feel called to be part of that dream—to give, to amplify, or to connect us with someone who can—know this: we are ready. We’ve done the work. And we are prepared to grow, authentically and boldly, for the next 20 years and beyond.

👉 Learn more about OURF’s programs and how you can support at www.orangutanrepublik.org

📩 Want to talk about legacy giving or major gifts? Contact us directly—we’re ready for the conversation.

Saving Orangutans from Afar: How We Make a Difference from California

When I say we save orangutans, what does that really mean?

Here we are in California—half a world away from the peat swamp forests of Borneo and the rainforests of Sumatra. And yet, from right here, we are saving them. Let me unpack what that really means, and how we—through the Orang Utan Republik Foundation (OURF)—make that possible.

Saving orangutans isn’t just about rescuing individual apes or protecting trees. It’s about building an ecosystem of solutions. Through OURF’s programs and partnerships, we take a comprehensive approach to conservation. One of our core initiatives, the Orangutan Caring Scholarship, empowers Indonesia’s brightest young minds—future conservationists, foresters, veterinarians, and environmental educators—to protect orangutans for generations to come.

We go further. As a proud partner of The Orangutan Project (TOP) and Wildlife Conservation International (WCI), and serving as TOP’s official U.S. fiscal sponsor (doing business as their dba), OURF helps direct vital funding to dozens of local organizations across Indonesia that are working tirelessly to protect wild orangutans and their habitats. These grassroots groups are restoring forests, monitoring wild populations, conducting rescues and releases, and engaging local communities—making a tangible impact every day.

We also invest in community-led conservation, mentoring women’s groups and local leaders through our Community Education and Conservation Program (CECP) and new Community Conservation Mentorship Initiative (CCMI). And through our emerging ROCKET program, we’re introducing Indonesian students to cutting-edge tools like drones, AI, and remote sensing technologies to help them monitor and protect ecosystems from above.

And we don’t stop there. Through storytelling—books, public talks, social media, documentaries, and even courtroom testimony—we elevate the orangutan from a symbol of extinction to a symbol of hope. When I testified in Argentina in support of Sandra, a captive orangutan recognized by the court as a “non-human person,” I wasn’t just defending one life—I was helping redefine how humanity sees our primate cousins.

So when I say we save orangutans, I mean:

We educate.

We empower.

We invest.

We advocate.

We collaborate.

We restore.

From a quiet office in California to the heart of the rainforest, we are saving orangutans—by saving people, protecting places, and nurturing possibilities.

Orangutans and the Climate Crisis: Why Saving the Red Ape Helps Save the Planet

 Orangutan Conservation: A Natural Climate Solution

At the Orang Utan Republik Foundation (OURF), we believe that protecting orangutans is not just about saving a species—it’s a crucial climate strategy. These intelligent apes live in the tropical forests of Indonesia, which are among the world’s most powerful natural carbon sinks. Through OURF’s education, advocacy, and forest protection programs, we are advancing both orangutan conservation and climate action in one unified effort.

Orangutans: Forest Architects and Climate Champions

Orangutans play a surprisingly sophisticated role in maintaining forest health and structure. As they move through the canopy, these intelligent apes instinctively remove dead or unstable branches to prevent falls—essentially pruning the treetops. This behavior contributes to a healthier, more resilient canopy that supports long-term forest growth and stability.

Each evening, orangutans build new nests in the trees where they sleep. This daily construction not only reflects their cognitive abilities, but also has ecological benefits. The process of bending and breaking branches to build nests opens up gaps in the canopy, allowing sunlight to reach the forest floor. This light penetration fosters undergrowth and encourages biodiversity, strengthening the forest's ability to sequester carbon and buffer against climate disruptions.

OURF Programs Making a Difference

OURF’s conservation efforts take a holistic approach—combining science, education, and community empowerment to protect orangutans and the ecosystems they support.

• Orangutan Caring Scholarship (OCS): By funding university students in biology, forestry, veterinary medicine, and environmental sciences, OURF invests in the future of Indonesia’s conservation leadership. These students become advocates and professionals working directly to protect orangutans and their habitats.
  
  

• Community Education and Conservation Program (CECP): CECP engages rural communities living near orangutan habitats with practical education on sustainable living, conservation awareness, and coexistence strategies. By involving people in the stewardship of their own forests, OURF empowers local solutions that reduce deforestation and habitat degradation.
  
  

• Strategic Partnerships: Through collaboration with local NGOs and international allies like The Orangutan Project, OURF amplifies its impact, ensuring that more forest is protected, more orangutans are safeguarded, and more climate benefits are realized.
  
  

Conservation as Climate Action

Tropical forests in Indonesia are some of the most carbon-rich ecosystems on Earth. When protected, they act as immense carbon sinks. By focusing on orangutan conservation, OURF helps protect these forests from logging, mining, and agricultural encroachment—activities that not only endanger orangutans but also release vast amounts of stored carbon.

Protecting orangutans is, therefore, about much more than wildlife. It’s about securing a livable future for all. When we defend their forest homes, we support climate resilience, biodiversity, and human well-being.

From Orbit to the Orangutan Nest: A Shared Awakening

What happens when a NASA astronaut and an orangutan conservationist arrive at the same conclusion — from entirely different vantage points?

Ron Garan, a former NASA astronaut, spent 178 days in space, orbiting the Earth 2,842 times. From the window of the International Space Station, he experienced something that has transformed many space travelers: the Overview Effect — that awe-inspiring moment when you realize Earth is not a collection of nations or economies, but a singular, fragile, interconnected organism.

He described the atmosphere as so thin, you could “almost touch it with your hands.” A barely-there veil — paper-thin — shielding all life from the void of space. And yet, despite its fragility, this thin blue line is the only thing standing between life and lifelessness.

That same sense of fragile wonder is something I’ve experienced for decades, not from space, but from the swamps and forests of Borneo and Sumatra. My journey has taken me into the heart of Indonesia’s wild places, where I’ve studied and worked to protect our red-haired cousins — the orangutans — who quietly go about their lives in one of the most complex ecosystems on the planet.

While Ron looked down from the stars, I have looked up through the forest canopy — and what we both saw was the same thing: a living planet in delicate balance.

Standing in the peat swamp forest, you can feel the Earth breathing. The air is rich and heavy with life. Fungi break down fallen branches. Hornbills glide silently above. And in the trees, orangutans carefully construct their nests — a daily ritual of mindfulness, passed from mother to child over generations.

What astronaut Ron Garan calls a “great lie” — the idea that we can treat the planet as a limitless resource in service to the economy — is something I’ve seen play out on the ground. I've watched as once-intact forests are converted into oil palm plantations. I've seen rivers choked with sediment and smoke clouds from slash-and-burn fires darken the skies. And I’ve met villagers and indigenous peoples who mourn the loss not just of trees, but of their connection to the land.

Ron and I come from vastly different backgrounds, but our epiphanies echo the same truth: we are not separate from nature. We are a part of a whole.

He proposes that we reorder our priorities: from “economy, society, planet” to “planet, society, economy.” That shift may seem subtle, but it’s revolutionary. It means making the health of Earth our starting point — not an afterthought. It means recognizing that every action — from the energy we consume to the forests we protect — either supports or erodes the only home we have.

As someone who has spent a lifetime among the forests, I’ve seen that reordering in action. A healthy forest supports healthy communities. A thriving orangutan population reflects a thriving ecosystem. Local wisdom and global cooperation must go hand-in-hand. Whether you're floating above Earth in a space station or trekking through a peat swamp with leeches on your boots, the message is clear:

Everything is connected. Everything matters.

Ron calls the Overview Effect a “lightening lamp” — a flash of insight that changes everything. But you don’t need to go to space to feel it. You only need to pause, listen, and look at the living world around you.

Because in the end, whether we orbit above it or walk within it, this planet is our only home. And the time to care for it — deeply and urgently — is now