Snub-nosed monkeys enjoy 100-day celebration

It was probably the most magnificent 100-day birth celebration I have attended since arriving in Europe.

At around 11 am, the distinguished guests, numbered about 100 in all, had already gathered beside a tranquil lake in Pairi Daiza, Belgium's best-known zoo.

Among them there was China's Ambassador to Belgium Fei Shengchao, diplomats from the Chinese Mission to the European Union, and Brugelette Mayor Isabelle Liegeois. Even Shaanxi Provincial Forestry Bureau had sent Vice-Director Chen Baolin, who traveled more than 10,000 kilometers from China for the ceremony.

From among the whole Chinese community in Belgium, it was hard to imagine a grander guest list.

All of those in attendance were there for two baby golden snub-nosed monkeys that were just 100 days old – an age that turns a newborn into a baby, and symbolizes greater strength and independence in Chinese tradition.

The two stars of the day, however, seemed blissfully unaware of their celebrity status.

One baby clung tightly to its mother Lu Lu, occasionally stretching out a tiny hand to touch leaves hanging nearby. The other hid behind another female, Juan Juan, peeking curiously at the crowd before disappearing again.

Their shared father, Liuyun, looked far less concerned about diplomacy than about keeping an eye on his unusually busy family.

It was last May that three golden snub-nosed monkeys arrived in Belgium from China's Qinling National Park. Being 5, 4, and 7 years old respectively, they were little more than awkward young adults by golden snub-nosed monkey standards.

And that made the ambassador's joke during the ceremony all the more amusing.

"We met this naughty young boy just last year," he said with a smile. "Now, whether he likes it or not, he has entered family life with wives and children."

The audience burst into laughter and applause.

Perhaps encouraged by the joke and the reaction, Liuyun rushed out of the indoor shelter, climbed onto the suspended rope bridge, and performed what looked suspiciously like a gymnastic routine.

One day, perhaps, he may discover that having two wives and two babies is not quite as glamorous as it sounds.

Rare breeding program

Behind the laughter, however, lies one of China's most ambitious wildlife conservation projects overseas.

Golden snub-nosed monkeys are among China's rarest primates, as even the largest sub-species among them, the Qinling one, has only about 26,000 individuals. All the other four sub-species count in the single-digit thousands, or even the hundreds.

Their breeding has challenged zoologists for decades because of their complex social structure and demanding environmental requirements, which require proper temperature, humidity, and adequate places for them to climb and explore.

Even with all the conditions met, a golden snub-nosed monkey can only get pregnant every two years, and can only give birth to a single baby each time.

The Pairi Daiza zoo has spent months recreating something in Belgium that is remarkably close to their home in the Qinling Mountains.

The enclosure, or more properly garden, is the size of a 600-square-meter villa. Streams flow through rocks and dense vegetation. Elevated walkways connect different levels of the habitat. Wooden platforms, climbing structures, and countless tree trunks encourage the monkeys to spend most of their time above the ground, exactly as they would in the wild.

Standing there, it became surprisingly easy for me to forget I was in Belgium and imagine I was somewhere deep inside western China.

That is perhaps why, in December 2024, the China Wildlife Conservation Association signed a 10-year cooperation agreement with Pairi Daiza, to establish the first publicly known overseas breeding program for Qinling golden snub-nosed monkeys. Three monkeys arrived in Belgium in May 2025.

Barely 11 months later, two healthy babies were born, which says much about the dedication of both Chinese and Belgian experts, who have cared for the baby monkeys as if they were their own.

Yet what impressed me most that day was not confined to the monkey enclosure.

Walking through the zoo after the ceremony, I noticed ducks wandering freely among visitors eating lunch. Children sat only a few meters away while the birds calmly searched for crumbs beneath picnic tables. In another enclosure, a troop of monkeys occupied a vast landscape complete with cliffs, waterfalls, and islands separated by moats. The great apes lived beneath enormous glass roofs filled with climbing towers that many human children might envy.

It was obvious that the philosophy extended beyond displaying animals. The goal seemed to be to allow them to behave as naturally as possible, while encouraging people to slow down and observe them with respect.

That perhaps explains why the ceremony felt different from an ordinary naming event. It felt more like a rich friend had invited you to his villa, and everybody was waiting to see his daughter, who had freshly come into the world.

Near the end, the ambassador offered a reflection that stayed with me.

"We don't always need grand theories to understand the relationship between humanity and nature," Fei said. "Sometimes all we need is to walk into nature, or simply visit a zoo, and we begin to appreciate that relationship."

Soon after, he and Pairi Daiza founder Eric Domb announced the names of the two babies. They are to be known as Zhenzhen and Xile, which mean "cherish" and "joy", names that seem to carry the sincere wishes of their parents, as well as all of those who care about them.

As the applause faded and the crowd slowly dispersed, I looked back toward the monkey family high above the wooden platforms.

For the two babies, in many ways this was just another day. But for everyone else, it was a reminder that international cooperation is sometimes measured not only in treaties and summits, but also in two tiny lives swinging quietly through a forest recreated thousands of kilometers from home.