I'm Bill Bailey and I'm in Cape Town
to introduce you to three unique families of baboons.
The roadside chancers of the Smitz troop.
The fun loving bumpkins of the Tokai troop.
And the urban scroungers of Da Gama.
We're going to travel alongside the troop,
giving us a unique chance to follow the highs and lows of family life.
A baboon docu-soap, if you will.
This time, Merlin pulls off a daring daytime raid.
The Da Gama troop get evicted from their block of flats.
And the Tokai troop welcome some new arrivals.
There's more rivalry, politics and causal violence
than a British provincial town. Life's not easy being a baboon.
Ah, I've got terrible sunburn on the back of my legs.
It makes it very hard to stand up,
so I might have to adopt the...baboon pose.
This is actually quite relaxing.
My baboon safari is nearly over and it has been a real privilege
to get up close to these fascinating creatures.
The thing is though, as their habitat dwindles away,
their run ins with local people are only going to become more fraught
and ill-tempered. And the bleakest estimates suggest
that unless there is any radical change,
these animals will be extinct within ten years.
The question is - will the local peoples' patience
run out before a solution is reached?
Living alongside us is tough but as we'll see,
these clever clownsters are pretty good at getting by.
The 25 members of the Smitz troop begin their morning as usual,
patrolling the coast road, in the hope of finding a tourist's car,
unlocked and hopefully crammed with crisps and sandwiches.
This morning though, things are rather quiet.
Time to catch up on Monkey News.
Merlin's got a plan.
This old boy is the criminal mastermind of the Smitz troop.
He's got his sight set
on more refined delights than cheese and pickle.
But there are baboon bouncers watching his every move.
The baboon monitors are a dedicated team
employed by the Nature Conservation Corporation,
to follow the troop every day and try to keep them out of mischief.
But it's hard to keep an eye on the movements of 25 lively monkeys.
Merlin goes for the brazen approach,
casually ambling past the law enforcers,
cool as a cucumber in baboon form.
Merlin has already made one unsuccessful attempt
at breaking and entering the Black Marlin Restaurant.
This time it's personal.
He's returned to the scene of his crime.
He lurks in the bushes. It's still early, but he's happy to wait.
He cases the joint as it slowly comes to life.
Merlin doesn't miss a trick.
An open door.
Like all primates, Merlin has a problem-solving brain.
One way or another, he'll find a way in.
But he'll have to find a way past this guy -
the restaurant's own personal baboon monitor.
He spends all of his time trying to keep the baboons at bay.
Has Merlin met his match?
While Merlin stakes out the Marlin,
the rest of the gang has managed to give the monitors the slip, too.
The restaurant shares its spot on the coast with a caravan park.
The holiday homes and chalets, set on lush green lawns,
are a magnet to monkeys on the scrounge.
For the youngsters, the array of prefabs is a giant playground.
But the adults have a stronger sense of mission.
A caravan park means only one thing - trailer trash.
Well, I think you're right to give that a miss.
It's monkey mischief everywhere!
Holidaymakers are understandably unnerved by their visitors -
not the quiet getaway they were hoping for.
Many animal species engage in play,
especially the more intelligent and social ones.
It's a way of giving youngsters a chance to experiment
with adult behaviours, without the risks.
Leaping about helps to hone their coordination,
but the rough and tumble is also where they start to establish
their place in the hierarchy - play fighting and showing who's boss.
But playtime's soon over.
It doesn't take long for the baboon monitors
to figure out where their charges have gone.
And this time, they've brought re-reinforcements.
The restaurant's monitor also helps round up the rabble.
This is the moment Merlin has been waiting for.
While the home guard is busy, he sneaks around the back.
Meanwhile, the baboon monitors are driving the rest of the Smitz troop
from the nearby holiday park, using bullwhips as baboon scarers.
With security distracted, the restaurant's vulnerable to a raid.
Merlin seizes his chance.
I'm Bill Bailey and I'm on the Cape Peninsula,
looking at the way that baboons are adjusting to a changing environment.
One of the toughest calls that people who work with wildlife find
is how far do you get involved
when you see an animal that's injured or orphaned? Do you step in?
Well, most nature preservers
have the policy that intervention is only appropriate
if the problem is caused by humans, as we saw with Ellie,
who was shot and rescued.
But if the animal is injured in some other way or old or sick,
the best course of action is just to step back
and let nature take its course.
It seems harsh though, because when you see a wild animal in distress,
there's an urge to get involved, to help in some way.
But nature can be very harsh, you know.
It's a bit of a cruel mistress
and sometimes the best course of action is to leave wildlife alone.
In the Tokai, nature has dealt the troop a harsh blow -
one of the females has given birth
but it's not the happy event it should be.
Named Sad by researchers, this female lives up to her name.
She has just given birth to a male called Trance,
but this female suffers a cruel twist of fate.
Sad hasn't got any nipples and isn't able to feed her newborn infant.
Usually curious baboon onlookers are keen to hold new babies,
but all they can do is watch as the little one fades away.
Such are the tough realities of life in the forest,
but for every infant lost, others are born
and soon the troop is welcoming new and healthy arrivals.
Berta and Tschumpel are both cradling their little ones.
Real cause for celebration.
The babies are only two days old, but fed by their mother's rich milk,
they are bright and alert.
Members of the troop gather, keen to meet the new recruits.
Everyone loves a baby.
Tenderly the guests greet mother Berta and her baby, Hope.
They lip-smack gently, making the baby greeting call.
It's only used when approaching infants
to make it clear that they mean no harm.
One by one, they want to groom the baby.
It's an introduction,
helping the newborn to get to know everyone in the troop.
It's a bit too soon for Hope to take in so many new faces.
But with time, she'll begin to recognise
each animal's individual features
as well as the distinctive tone of their voices.
As Tschumpel nurses her baby, Sad approaches,
gently greeting the new arrival.
It's a bittersweet moment.
It's a challenging and dangerous world
but by maintaining their close bonds and social structure,
baboons still survive against the odds.
And with the strong hand of Danny to guide them -
grandfathers Meagerli and Stettler, and even newcomer, Clint -
the troop has a bright future.
Back on the coast and Merlin is putting his plan
for the restaurant raid into action.
While the rest of the Smitz troop are running riot
around the nearby caravan park, keeping the monitors busy,
Merlin strikes.
It's not what you would call a discreet entry.
The dining room is full of guests,
but it's a sunny day and several windows are open.
He's got to be quick - there are plenty of potential witnesses.
But the noise of the commotion carries to the caravan park,
attracting the restaurant's baboon bouncer.
His mouth stuffed full, Merlin makes a dash.
It's time to get out of here.
He joins the rest of the Smitz troop as they head back to the coast road -
their usual car-jacking hangout.
But this time, egged on by the baboon bouncers, they don't stop.
Instead they head down to the beach.
Perhaps it's time for the troop to get back to nature.
This is where a wild primate can hang out without a care in the world.
The Cape Town baboons are unique.
Though baboons all over Africa are adaptable
and will eat just about anything,
these are the only ones that like to beach comb.
The tide brings in all sorts of titbits.
And rock pools are teaming with molluscs and crabs.
For the youngsters, the beach is one huge sandpit.
This day out at the seaside is a wonderful change from the noisy road.
With the baboons behaving themselves for once,
the monitors can also ease off and take a well earned rest.
And all the while, the troop is being watched over
by their attentive guardian.
Alpha male Fred has been a caring and gentle father,
always putting his babies' safety first.
But in the months after we filmed, when his raiding activities
began to lead to violent attacks on people,
the local authorities faced a dilemma.
Whatever the underlying cause,
they couldn't risk Fred causing serious harm to a human bystander,
so they made the difficult decision to have Fred humanely put down.
If we are to prevent the next generation of baboons
from following in Fred's footsteps,
we will have to accept that we are partly responsible
and change our own behaviour, too.
And Smitz aren't the only troop
to be clashing with their human neighbours.
Remember the mischief-making monkeys of Da Gama?
But now their usual tower block residence is silent.
You almost wouldn't recognise the place - not a baboon in sight.
After their recent breaking and entering,
the baboon monitors have tightened up their management
and herded the family onto a recreation site
on the edge of the navy base.
The people who live in the flats
have had to put up with baboons' constant noise,
mess and destruction of their property.
Sometimes it gets a bit much,
so the monitors are trying to give the residents a break.
And it doesn't seem so bad for the troop either.
There's plenty of space to roam and healthy food to eat.
It's tough for Alpha male Gundy to be pushed around,
but for baboons to live alongside people,
there has to be some give and take.
Some experts fear the Cape baboons could face extinction
with property prices soaring and demand for homes on the coast
putting pressure on the remaining wilderness.
But it's not all doom and gloom.
The baboon monitors are a big investment,
made by people who care about baboons.
Conservation groups, government and private individuals
all play their part. There are many dedicated people
determined to make sure these unique primates
keep their rightful place on this little strip of Africa.
The troop soon settles down in their new home.
The tall trees that surround the park
are a perfect place to spend the night.
The human world can be a dangerous place for baboons
but the Da Gama troop are safe in their tree top roost
and the human residents of the flats
can sleep with their windows open tonight.
Perhaps they'll even get a lie in.
For now, it seems a compromise might have been reached
and everyone, man and beast, can sleep soundly.
Here on the Cape Peninsula,
the baboon situation is just an example
of what's happening all over the world.
As the human population grows, so the space for wildlife shrinks.
As you can imagine, not everyone is a fan of the baboons here,
but love them or hate them, they've been here for a million years.
Drawings from ancient Egypt depict baboons as responsible citizens
helping to apprehend thieves in the market.
Other cultures depicted them as...thieves in the market.
So this polarised opinion of baboons
has been around since the birth of civilisation itself
and it carries on today.
But for now anyway, the future's looking pretty bright
for these maddening, insolent,
surprisingly tender, intelligent, complex
and endlessly entertaining furry funsters.
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