As they worked their endless way through the forest, the friendships of the females quietly endured. The truth of Capo’s society was that the females were its foundation. The females stuck to their kinship groups and shared the food they found — a practice that made good genetic sense, as your aunt and nieces and sisters shared your own heritage. As for the males, they just went where the females went, their dominance battles a kind of showy superstructure, signifying very little of true importance for the troop.
With a moist dick and pleasantly aching fists, and the prospect of a belly soon to be filled, Capo ought to have been as happy as he could be. Life was good, here in the forest. For Capo, top of the heap, it could hardly get any better. But still that bit of unease lingered.
Unfortunately for Capo’s mood, the pickings that morning were poor. They were forced to keep moving.
They came across other animals, here in the forest. There were okapi — short-necked giraffes — and pygmy hippos and dwarf forest proboscideans. It was an ancient fauna clinging to the conservatism of forest ways. And there were other primates too. They passed a pair of giants: huge, broad-shouldered, silver-haired creatures who sat massively on the ground, feeding on the leaves they plucked from the trees.
They were like the potbellies of Roamer’s day. Capo’s forebears had developed a new kind of teeth, the better to cope with their fruit diet: Capo had large incisors for biting, necessary for fruit, whereas his molars were small. These leaf eaters’ teeth were the other way around; leaves didn’t need much biting but took a lot of chewing. Closely related to the gigantopithecines of Asia, these great beasts, weighing a quarter of a ton each, were among the largest primates who would ever live. But the giants were rare in Africa now.
They were not in direct competition with Capo’s troop, who, lacking the giants’ immense multiple fermenting stomachs, could not feed on leaves. Still, it bothered Capo to have to divert his course to avoid these silent, patient, statuesque creatures. Not wishing to lose face, Capo knuckle-walked up to the larger of the giants — a male — and displayed, fur bristling, running in circles, drumming on the ground. The leaf eater watched, impassive and incurious. Even sitting down he towered over Capo.
Honor satisfied, Capo skirted the giants and moved on.
It wasn’t long before the morning march came to an end, as the troop ran out of trees.
Here was the root of Capo’s unease. This shrinking, half-flooded patch of forest was not as abundant a home as it used to be. It was just an island, in fact, in a greater, more open world.
Peering out of the trees, he glimpsed that world, still emerging from a misty dawn.
This scrap of forest lay in the palm of an extensive, glimmering plain. The land was like a park, a mix of open green plains and patches of forest. Much of the forest was palms and acacias, but there was some mixed woodland, both conifers and deciduous trees — walnut, oak, elm, birch, juniper.
What would most have surprised Roamer, Capo’s distant great-aunt, was the nature of the ground cover that stretched over those open green areas. It was grass: hardy, resistant, now spreading with slow, unheralded triumph across the world.
And on the plain there were many, many lakes, ponds, marshes. Mist rose everywhere, the sun’s early heat filling the air with moisture. A great river, having spilled from the southern highland, curled lazily over the plain. Around its banks stretched extensive floodplains, some of them marshy or sheets of open water. The land was like a full sponge, brimming with water. Some of the trees were dying, their roots in some cases actually standing in shallow water. The forest remnants, already shrunken by the world’s continuing cooling and drying, were being drowned.
This soggy plain stretched to the north as far as Capo’s eyes could see. But off to the south the land climbed to an immense wall notched by the outflow of that mighty river. Before that great ridge was a more barren area littered with wide, bone-white sheets of salt, on some of which stood small, stagnant-looking lakes.
There was a bellow from the north, and Capo turned back that way. The animals of the plain were going about their business. In the distance Capo could see what looked like a herd of wild, overgrown pigs rooting in the long grasses. Their low-slung gray-brown bodies made them look like huge slugs. They were not pigs or hippos; they were anthracotheres, a holdover from much more ancient times.
Two huge chalicotheres worked their way slowly across the plain, plucking at shrubs with their huge paws. They picked only fresh shoots, and put them into their mouths, delicate as pandas. The taller, the male, was nearly three meters high at the shoulder. They had bulky bodies and stocky hind legs, but their forelegs were long and surprisingly graceful. But, because of their long claws, they could not put their front feet on the ground, and walked on their knuckles. In their bodies they looked a little like huge, short-haired gorillas, but they had long equine heads. These ancient animals were cousins of the horses. Once they had been widespread, but now the shrubs on which they depended were becoming scarce; this species was the last of the chalicothere kind.
Closer to hand, the apes could hear a steady, noisy rustling. Hesitant, they peered out. A family of a kind of elephant was working at the trees at the forest clump’s edge, using their trunks to pull away branches and cram foliage into their mouths. These were gomphotheres, massive creatures. Each had four tusks, a pair protruding from both upper and lower jaws, giving its face the look of a forklift.
This was the heyday of the proboscideans. The very successful elephantine body plan had spun off a whole range of species across the world. In North America the mastodons would survive until humans arrived. Another family was the shovel-tuskers like these gomphotheres, with their hugely expanded and flattened lower tusks. And, walking through Africa and southern Asia, there were the stegodons, with long, straight tusks. They were the ancestors of the true elephants and the mammoths, who had yet to appear.
The sound of the gomphotheres’ calls, carrying far in the cold morning air and echoing deep into the infrasonic, was eerie. These particular proboscideans were omnivorous. They were scarcely fleet-footed hunters. But on the whole a meat-eating elephant was best avoided.
That was when Frond, the spindly male, unexpectedly knuckle-walked out of the forest’s shade and into grass tall enough to come up to his shoulders. The grass waved around him, stirred by a breeze, languid waves crossing the empty acres.
Hesitantly Frond got to his hind legs. For a heartbeat he stood upright, peering out into a world beyond the primates’ reach, out into the green emptiness where animals walked, the antelopes, elephants, and chalicotheres grazing the abundant grass.
Then he dropped back to all fours and scuttled back into the forest’s shadows, his nerve gone.
Capo gave him a sound beating about the head for taking such a risk. Then he led his troop back into the deeper forest.
Capo hauled himself up an acacia tree, seeking fruit and flowers. Capo climbed steadily. He used a kind of shimmying style, pulling himself up with his arms while gripping the tree trunk with his feet to provide a platform.
It was a feat Roamer could not have achieved — or indeed any monkey. Capo’s apes had flat chests, short legs, and long arms. They had achieved greater flexibility by moving their shoulder blades to the backs of their bodies, which enabled Capo to reach up above his head. All this was equipment for hauling oneself up a tree trunk. Where Roamer had spent much of her life running along branches, Capo was a climber.
And this re-engineering for climbing had had another side effect, easily visible in Capo’s long, narrow body. Working vertically, with a new bone structure and system of balance, Capo was already preadapted to walking on two feet. Sometimes he did this in the trees, holding on to branches for balance, trying to reach the highest fruit — and sometimes his kind would stand up out in the open, as Frond had demonstrated.