In an Eastern Congo Oasis, Blood Amid the Greenery

Then, in the thick quiet of one of the most violent spots on Earth, the rangers observe. They watch the gorillas hanging from the trees and tumbling around on the grass. They count them and sketch their noseprints in damp notebooks. They note how they play, how they eat. They know the Humba family from the Kabirizi and notice when Matuko's hair is discolored or Resi is agitated.

"They have a character almost like man," Serundori said. "They are very intellectual animals. For example, if one is walking and finds a snare, he stops the babies from going forward."

In recent months, the rangers' work has included destroying poison bananas left by poachers to lure the gorillas; they were scattered near Rubiga's family the day before she was shot.

After hauling her body down off the mountain, the rangers held a burial ceremony at their post headquarters, then had a drink. They bundled her baby, Ndakasi, off to a veterinarian in the city of Goma, near the southern end of the park.

"When a man dies, you have some questions, like: What mistakes did he make? Or what might have been wrong with him?" said Ngobobo, the chief warden, who decided that Rubiga's grave should be just a few feet from his office in the park. "But when an animal is killed like that, you really see the absurdity of man. . . . It's completely absurd."

More gorillas have been killed during the past year in Virunga National Park than are known to have been killed during the worst years of the war. With only around 700 mountain gorillas left in the world -- more than half of them in Virunga National Park -- each death equates to something like a massacre. The hippo population in the park has declined from 28,000 to fewer than 350, according to conservation groups.

"These killings are part of a worrying trend," said Emmanuel de Merode, who co-founded WildlifeDirect with the paleoanthropologist Richard Leakey. "We are not sure exactly why, but we are extremely concerned the situation is getting worse."

Even so, the rangers keep working with the hope that if the fighting ever stops, the park might again attract tourists; in neighboring Rwanda, gorilla-viewing is a multimillion-dollar-a-year business.

"It's like being an apostle," Ngobobo said. "You have to believe in the job first. You have to have an altruistic mind. . . . It is this chaotic situation that tells me I don't have the right to become discouraged or tired. Why am I going to get tired when there is so much to be done?"