In a Family Way: One Amazing Hour With the Susas

The gorillas have a strict hierarchy defined by age, gender and dominance. Each gorilla has a rank within the familial group, starting with the dominant silverback (so named because as males age, the fur down their spine grays to a dignified silver hue). When on the move, they walk in order of rank. In the Susa group, the chief silverback (one of five) goes first, followed by his second in command. No. 3 brings up the rear, with Nos. 4 and 5 in front of him and the females and children in between.

The females have a parallel hierarchy: The oldest matriarch -- Poppy, a 29-year-old mature female who was the only member alive when Fossey worked with the group -- is in charge of the other females.

Most of the gorilla families were near the park office during our visit, and groups visiting those families were able to start their treks from the headquarters. The Susa group was many miles and an hour's drive away, so we caravanned to a distant part of the park to begin our trek on foot.

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The weather was cool and crisp as we began our ascent. To keep his charges together, Diogene placed the slowest person (in this case, me) first to set the pace, and everyone else adjusted.

The gorillas live at a high altitude so they can find a plentiful supply of their favored diet: bamboo, wild celery and mint (a lot of it -- adults can be about the size of a small car and consume about 45 pounds of food a day). They eat for about four hours, rest for two hours and continue onward, migrating in search of more plants. So finding the animals can be tricky. As the gorillas moved from place to place, trackers communicated with Diogene by radio to steer us toward them.

When we began the day, they were somewhere around 13,000 feet, but by the time we found them, they had turned and come down to below 11,000 feet (thankfully). I had problems with the altitude, at times gasping for breath. Drinking a lot of water helped, as dehydration can be a hazard at these heights.

The sight of the young silverbacks that led us toward the family group caused all physical difficulties to dissolve in the mountain air. Our first view of the main group, from a distance of about four feet, was of a mother with twins on her back. Twins are exceptionally rare in the gorilla world.

To the babies, mom is food, transport and playground -- in this case, mostly playground. The twins were using mom as a jungle gym, clambering around her back with such choreography that I could not catch both in my camera lens simultaneously.

We walked a short distance farther and found ourselves surrounded by three dozen gorillas stretching up and down the mountain. It was breathtaking. As far as the eye could see, there were gorillas of all sizes and ages, resting, eating, yawning, not at all disturbed to find us in their midst. Never did I expect that we would be welcomed with such grace and charm, ushered into their temporary home and their lives and allowed to visit among them.

The spoken and unspoken communication between man and gorilla was amazing. On an earlier trip, friends of ours had visited the Sabinyo group. When a baby came too close to humans for the silverback's comfort, he uprooted a stick of bamboo, approached the visitors and drew a line in the dirt, then marched back.

The Susa group's leader was considerably more relaxed. He yawned mightily and chomped on bamboo.

The gorillas are giants of an inherently peaceful nature. They display aggression if they feel threatened, uprooting and hurling trees to show power, for example, but they are not known to attack people. Throughout our visit, the trackers communicated with the animals using two different noises: a deep, throaty "harumph" and a "chum chum." One identified our presence ("I'm here"), and the other that the gorillas were in charge ("Easy, big fella. We mean you no harm").

We stood still, excitedly taking pictures, and the gorillas seemed content to have us among them. At exactly one hour, just as the tracker told us it was time to leave, papa silverback abruptly stood up, glared at us, turned his back and began stalking up the mountain with the family falling in line behind him.

The message was clear, the timing amazing. I imagined that through the years, with humans interacting with these gorillas for exactly one hour per day, the regularity of the visits has become a daily pattern in their lives. Papa silverback knew we were there for one hour and was happy to welcome us and share his family for exactly that long.

There was no doubt who was in charge. He was, and we were his family's honored guests for the agreed-upon time.

Sarel Kromer is a retired lawyer who lives in Chevy Chase.