Fernando's Story
Fernando came into the care of Bali Monkey Rescue after we received a call from his “owners.”
He had been kept as a pet for seven years.
We don’t know the exact details of how he was obtained, but the reality is always the same. As a baby, Fernando was either taken directly from the wild — which almost certainly meant his family troop was killed — or he was sold through the illegal pet trade. Either way, he was brutally removed from his mother at birth.
He grew into a large, powerful alpha male macaque. As he matured, he became impossible to handle. No one could get near him. He was no longer useful as a pet.
When we arrived to rescue Fernando, what we found was devastating.
He had been kept in a small cage placed on top of a rubbish dump for seven years.
The cage was only a few square feet in size. There was no room to climb. Barely space to lie down.
The ground was filthy. Within seconds of sitting beside his enclosure, my own legs were crawling
with bugs and fleas.
Fernando had lived his entire life like that!
It was clear he had significant dental issues. Many of his teeth had rotted away. His body had survived,
but at a terrible cost.
One thing that is always apparent during a rescue is that monkeys sense change. Even in the worst
conditions, when they are suffering, they do not understand that help has arrived. They only know that
something unfamiliar is happening.
Fernando was terrified.
His fear presented as aggression, which is often the case. Because of this, we made the decision to sedate him so he could be safely transferred into a carrier. Even sedation is distressing for an animal. They do not understand why they feel sleepy or disoriented. They only know they are losing control.
I sat close to his enclosure while the anaesthetic took effect, speaking softly to him as he drifted to sleep.
It was the only comfort I could offer in that moment.
Fernando was taken straight to the BMR centre, where he was examined by our resident vet and
later castrated as part of his ongoing care.
Some macaques adjust quickly to sanctuary life. They relax. They become curious. They begin to engage.
For Fernando, the process has been much slower.
I spent many hours sitting near his new enclosure. At first, he would not even make eye contact.
Occasionally, he would take food from me, but not always. It was as if he had detached himself
emotionally — a defence mechanism formed after years of trauma and isolation.
And yet, there is something very gentle in him.
You can see it in his eyes. There is strength there, but also a deep sadness. It is impossible not to
wonder how much of his past he carries with him.
Recovery from psychological trauma is not as visible as healing from physical wounds. It takes time. Sometimes years.
Fernando may never fully trust humans again.
But what we can promise him is this: he will never live in a cage on a rubbish dump again. He will never be used, neglected, or discarded. He is safe. He is cared for. He is respected.
And that, at the very least, is a beginning.