Monkey Put Baby Under Her Chest to Swim — The Baby Drowned (1996 words)
The river flowed wide and deep through the forest, its surface glimmering beneath the morning sun. Birds flew low over the water, calling out to one another, and the trees along the banks bent gracefully toward the current. It was a peaceful day — calm and beautiful — but in nature, peace can turn into tragedy in an instant.
On that warm morning, a mother monkey named Mina climbed down from the tall fig tree where her troop usually stayed. Clinging tightly to her belly was her tiny baby, Tiko, only three months old. His fur was soft and light brown, his eyes large and innocent. Mina loved him more than anything in the world. Wherever she went, he went too — always under her chest, safe and warm.
But that day, Mina made a terrible mistake.
The River Crossing
The troop had been moving for days in search of new food. The forest was dry, and the fig trees that once offered fruits now stood bare. The monkeys had to cross the river to reach the greener side. The river, though, was wide and strong. Many of the younger monkeys were afraid to cross. They waited on the bank, watching the swirling water below.
Mina looked at the other side and then at her baby. She hesitated for a long moment. Her instincts told her to be careful — but her hunger and determination pushed her forward.
She saw a fallen branch floating near the bank. It looked stable enough to help her stay above water. Slowly, she stepped closer. The other monkeys watched, chattering nervously. Some called out warnings, others encouraged her.
Mina took a deep breath, pulled her baby close to her chest, and stepped into the cold water.
A Mother’s Protection
The moment Mina entered the river, the current pulled at her legs. It was stronger than she expected. The cold water rose up to her belly, then her shoulders. She gripped her baby tighter, pressing Tiko firmly against her chest.
Tiko made a small sound — a mixture of fear and confusion. He didn’t like the cold water. His tiny hands grabbed at his mother’s fur, but he couldn’t hold on tightly because she was pressing him too close. His face was buried against her chest, his nose against her wet fur.
Mina started swimming slowly, using her arms to push through the current. She kept her head high, her eyes fixed on the far bank. The water splashed around her face, but she didn’t stop. Every mother’s instinct told her to keep her baby safe and reach the other side.
The Current Grows Stronger
Halfway across, the river deepened. The current became faster and more violent. Waves formed around her as she struggled to stay afloat. The branch she had been holding drifted away, and she was left alone in the middle of the rushing water.
She tightened her grip on Tiko, pressing him even harder against her chest to make sure he wouldn’t fall. She didn’t realize that her own fur was soaked, covering his face completely.
Tiko began to struggle. His tiny body squirmed under her arms, his hands moving weakly. He tried to lift his face, but he couldn’t. Every time Mina moved her arms to swim, water splashed over him. He couldn’t breathe.
He started making faint squealing sounds — soft cries that were quickly drowned out by the sound of the river.
The Silent Cry
Mina didn’t hear him at first. Her focus was only on survival. She had to reach the other side. The water was too deep to stand. She fought against the current, her muscles aching, her breath short.
Tiko’s cries became weaker. His little body pressed tighter against her chest, motionless except for tiny twitches. Water entered his mouth and nose, and he began to gasp — but there was no air, only water and fur.
If Mina had looked down at that moment, she might have seen his tiny hand moving, clawing softly against her fur. But she didn’t. She only thought of keeping him close, thinking that holding him tight meant safety.
The river didn’t forgive such mistakes.
Reaching the Other Side
After what felt like an eternity, Mina finally reached the opposite bank. She climbed onto a rock, panting heavily, her fur dripping water. She still held Tiko close, her arms trembling with exhaustion.
She sat down, breathing hard. Then she looked down at her baby.
He wasn’t moving.
At first, she thought he was just scared, clinging too quietly. She smiled weakly and stroked his wet fur. But when she pulled him slightly away from her chest, she saw his face — pale, eyes half-open, mouth slightly parted. His little body was limp.
Her heart froze.
Realization
Mina let out a sharp cry — a sound filled with fear and disbelief. She shook him gently, then more desperately. She groomed his face, licking away the water, trying to make him respond. But Tiko didn’t move.
She turned him upside down, tapping his tiny back, as if trying to help him breathe. Water dripped from his mouth and nose. She made soft, pleading sounds — “kee-kee, kee-kee” — over and over again.
No response.
The forest was quiet except for her cries. The other monkeys on the opposite bank watched in silence. Some called out, sensing something terrible had happened. Mina didn’t look up. Her entire world had collapsed in her arms.
She pressed Tiko against her chest again, rocking him back and forth. But this time, it wasn’t to keep him safe — it was a desperate, heartbroken attempt to wake him.
The Endless Cry
For hours, Mina stayed by the riverbank. She didn’t eat, didn’t move far. She kept holding her lifeless baby, licking his fur, trying to warm him up under the sun.
Every few minutes, she would lift his head, look at his face, and cry again. Her cries echoed through the forest — deep, trembling, full of pain that no words could describe.
The other monkeys finally crossed the river too, one by one, avoiding the strong current. When they reached her, they saw what had happened. Some older females came closer, sniffed the baby, and then looked away sadly.
But Mina refused to let anyone touch him. She screamed and pushed them back, clutching Tiko tightly to her body. Her eyes were red and wild. She couldn’t accept what had happened.
A Mother’s Mourning
The day passed slowly. The sun moved high above, then began to fall again. Mina still sat by the river, her fur drying in the wind. She groomed Tiko’s body again and again, as though cleaning him would bring him back.
She covered him with leaves, then uncovered him, as if unsure what to do. Sometimes she lifted him up and made small, gentle sounds — the same soothing calls she used when he was alive.
The troop had moved a little deeper into the forest, but Mina stayed behind. Her maternal instinct — the same instinct that told her to protect him — now refused to let her let go.
That night, she climbed into a low tree near the river, still carrying him under her chest. She tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. Every time the wind rustled the leaves, she tightened her grip, afraid to lose him again.
The Second Day
When morning came, Tiko’s tiny body had grown cold and stiff. His fur no longer looked soft. Yet Mina still held him close. She groomed him with slow, tired movements, her face dull with sorrow.
Some of the other monkeys approached again. One young female tried to take the baby gently, but Mina screamed and slapped her away. She wouldn’t let anyone near. She climbed higher into the tree, clutching her baby to her chest as though he were still breathing.
The others could only watch. They had seen this before — mothers in mourning, unable to accept death.
Mina carried Tiko everywhere she went that day. When she climbed trees, when she searched for food, when she sat under the shade — he was always with her, pressed to her chest.
She didn’t eat much. She didn’t play. She only sat in silence, staring into nothing, lost in her grief.
Letting Go
By the third day, the troop began to move again. The forest ahead was lush with fruit, but Mina was still behind. Slowly, she began to weaken — both from hunger and sadness.
At noon, she climbed down to the same riverbank where it all happened. The water was calm again, reflecting the blue sky above. She sat there with Tiko in her arms, silent.
After a long while, she looked down at him — his small face peaceful now. She touched his cheek with her fingers, then pressed her forehead gently to his. Her eyes closed, and a soft cry escaped her throat.
It was a cry of goodbye.
She placed him carefully on a patch of grass near the water, smoothing his fur one last time. Then she sat there for a long moment, watching him, trembling, unwilling to move away.
Finally, as the wind blew through the trees, she turned and slowly climbed back up into the forest.
For a long time, she looked back
