In the quiet, golden morning light of Angkor Wat, while the ruins stood silent in their ancient dignity, a sound of desperation echoed through the trees. It wasn’t a predator or a fight—it was the sobbing cry of a child too big to be begging, but too heartbroken to care.
His name is RENO.
A big child monkey, growing lanky and curious, RENO should’ve been climbing trees or playing in the dust with his cousins. But today was different. His belly rumbled with hunger, and worse… his heart ached for the comfort only a mother can give.
RENO’s mama had stopped nursing him weeks ago, a natural step in their lives, as she turned her care toward a younger infant. But no one told RENO that his world was about to change.
We watched as he followed her through the thick forest, eyes wide with confusion. Every time she sat down, he reached up gently, resting a hand on her belly—begging. Not with screams. Not with tantrums. Just silent, salty tears. Real ones.
I had never seen a monkey cry like that before.
He licked at her chest, gently nudging her. Once, she allowed him to suckle for barely two seconds. Then she stood and walked off. His face trembled as he tried again, pawing at her legs like a toddler scared of being left behind. She turned—looked him in the eye—and then walked faster.
That moment broke me.
RENO stood frozen, his mouth quivering, his eyes blinking through the pain. Then he did something that crushed every heart watching—he sat down, cradled his arms around his body, and rocked himself. Alone.
A big child monkey—but still just a child.
The younger monkeys skipped past him, unaware of his sorrow. The elders watched, unmoved by the display. But any human watching… any mother… any father… would feel that ache. That raw, childlike need to be held, fed, loved.
Later that day, we saw RENO sneak under his mother while she nursed the baby. In desperation, he pushed his little sibling aside—just for a second of milk. But his mother turned with a loud grunt and swatted him away. Hard.
He tumbled backward into the dirt, his lip bleeding slightly. But he didn’t scream. He didn’t fight.
He just sat there and cried.
I knelt down with my camera and watched through the lens, knowing this was more than a clip. This was a story of growing up… of loss… of what it means to feel rejected even when you’re still just a baby inside.
I know nature is not cruel. It follows its rhythm, its seasons. But as a human, watching RENO’s hunger and sadness—it reminded me how alike we all are.
We all remember the moment we stopped being someone’s baby.
And today, for RENO… that moment came too soon.