Deep in the forest where the sunlight filters through thick green canopies, a heartbreaking scene unfolds beneath a quiet fig tree. There, curled up in a small bundle of fur and fragile limbs, lies baby Calvin — a newborn monkey no more than a few days old. His tiny chest rises and falls with difficulty, his energy fading with every passing hour.
His mother, Casi, a young and first-time mom, had given birth to him quietly during the early morning mist. At first, it seemed like a moment of new life and joy. But something shifted — something in Casi’s heart, or maybe in her instincts. She looked at her newborn, hesitated, and walked away.
From that moment on, little Calvin was alone.
At first, he cried. His soft, desperate squeaks rang out through the troop. He wriggled weakly, trying to drag himself toward where his mother had gone. But Casi didn’t return. Other mothers glanced his way, curious, but in the wild, each mother protects only her own. Calvin’s voice grew weaker as the minutes passed. His mouth searched for milk, for warmth, for comfort — and found nothing.
Later in the day, Casi did return briefly. Calvin lit up, wiggling and letting out a strained little cry. But instead of lifting him into her arms, Casi stood nearby, watched him, then turned again. When he tried to latch onto her belly for milk, she pushed him away. Not roughly — but firmly. The rejection was clear.
Observers nearby couldn’t help but feel their hearts break. Calvin was clearly starving. His belly was hollow, his body trembling, his tiny hands reaching out with fading strength. His eyes, not yet fully focused, blinked toward his mother, silently pleading: Please, don’t leave me.
But Casi walked off once more, blending into the trees with the rest of the troop.
As the day wore on, Calvin’s cries stopped. Not because he was no longer in pain — but because he was too weak to cry. He lay on the forest floor, the dirt clinging to his damp fur, too fragile even to lift his head.
It was a tragic moment. The wild can be cruel, and not all babies survive. Sometimes mothers reject their young due to weakness, illness, or fear. No one could truly explain Casi’s behavior — whether she was afraid, confused, or simply not ready for motherhood. But the result was the same: Calvin was alone, starving, and slipping away.
A baby monkey should be wrapped safely in his mother’s arms, nursing, warm, and protected. But Calvin had none of that.
All he had was the sound of the jungle around him, and the slow, fading rhythm of his tiny heart.
If only someone could help — if only help could come in time — maybe his story wouldn’t end here.
But for now, Calvin’s fate rests in silence, under the leaves, with a heart that once beat with hope, now barely hanging on.
