Title: Badly Mom Rozy Leaves Baby Fall Down High Tree After Born
In the quiet morning hush of the dense jungle, a new life entered the world. High in the trees, the troop of monkeys was alert, some gathered in clusters, sensing the tension in the air. Rozy, a strong and wild monkey mother, had just given birth to a tiny, helpless baby on a thick branch. But unlike the gentle welcome that most newborns received, this baby’s first moments were met with coldness.
The infant clung weakly to the rough bark of the branch. Its fur was still damp, eyes barely open, limbs trembling. The newborn instinctively reached for comfort—for the warmth of its mother, for the embrace that all babies need. But Rozy stood above him, unmoved, pacing on the branch with impatience. Her eyes darted, and she groomed herself briefly, showing no intention of cradling her child.
Suddenly, in a swift and careless moment, she stepped over the newborn as if he weren’t there. The baby shifted, lost his balance, and with a tiny cry, tumbled off the branch. His tiny body fell through a thin curtain of leaves before landing with a soft thud on a lower branch — thankfully not the ground, but the fall was still hard and frightening.
A few monkeys gasped and looked down, startled. One older female nearby let out a warning grunt. But Rozy didn’t even flinch. She climbed down slowly, not to help, but simply to move along. She didn’t glance back. Her own baby had fallen, and yet she acted as if nothing had happened.
Below, the newborn whimpered in pain and confusion. His fragile body was curled up, barely moving, and he cried in soft, broken sounds that echoed with sadness. A young female, not a mother herself, sat nearby and watched with wide, unsure eyes. She inched closer, but without permission from the troop’s hierarchy, she hesitated to interfere.
As the day passed, the baby tried to move, using tiny limbs to scoot closer to the tree trunk. He cried for his mother, hoping she’d return. But Rozy had already rejoined the troop, climbing trees, foraging, and grooming with others like nothing had occurred.
Some of the other mothers noticed but chose not to act — in the wild, harsh choices are sometimes accepted without question. Yet for the tiny newborn, abandoned and bruised, the jungle had never felt so cold.
Eventually, as the sun began to set and the forest grew quiet again, the baby lay curled in a nest of leaves, eyes half-closed, too tired to cry anymore. Still no milk. Still no mother.
It was a heartbreaking beginning for a life only just begun — a fall, a cry, and silence from the one who should have cared most.
