The Angkor Wat forest is a place of ancient beauty—temples carved from stone, trees rising like giants, and echoes of time in every corner. But on this particular morning, something more fragile than stone caught our eyes: a newborn baby monkey, alone, crying, and barely holding on.
We called her Santa.
Santa had been left under the thick ferns near the roots of a crumbling banyan tree. Her tiny body trembled with cold. Her face, still wet with birth, looked around in confusion. Her soft cries echoed through the forest. Where was her mother? What had happened?
For nearly an hour, we watched from a respectful distance as Santa tried to lift herself onto her elbows—only to fall flat again. Each movement took everything she had. It was heartbreaking. The jungle is no place for weakness, especially for the smallest of its creatures.
Our hearts shattered with every moment she stayed alone.
Nearby, other monkeys moved freely through the canopy. Some seemed to notice Santa. A few stopped and stared, but none came to help. Her tiny hands stretched toward them. Her cry, although faint, was full of a single desperate word: please.
No answer came.
We knew something had to be done. Carefully, with deep reverence, our team stepped forward. A gentle cloth was wrapped around her trembling frame, and she was lifted from the damp ground for the first time. She didn’t resist. In fact, as soon as her body felt warmth, her cries softened… then stopped altogether.
It was as if Santa knew she had finally been rescued.
We carried her to a quiet part of the forest edge where caretakers waited. There, she was given warm goat milk and gently cleaned of the mud that had clung to her soft fur. Her body, once stiff with fear and cold, began to relax.
The most beautiful moment came later that afternoon.
Santa, wrapped in a blanket of soft banana leaves, was nestled against a caretaker’s chest. She opened her eyes wide, blinked slowly, and looked up with the purest trust I’ve ever seen. She reached up—not in fear—but in hope.
She began to cling.
To witness that first cling… it broke us in the best way. It was her first act of comfort. Her first sign that maybe, just maybe, she felt safe.
Watching Santa now, you wouldn’t believe she’s the same baby who was once crying alone in the roots of a banyan. She’s still tiny, still fragile—but her spirit is already beginning to grow. With each passing day, she chirps louder, eats stronger, and wraps those little fingers tighter around her new family.
Her journey is just beginning, but already, her story is a reminder:
Even in the darkest places, kindness can find you.
There are many monkeys in Angkor who don’t get this chance. Some are injured, some abandoned, and some simply disappear without anyone knowing. But every time we’re able to save just one—like Santa—we remember why we do this work.
So many people ask us, “Why do you care so much about monkeys?”
The answer is simple:
Because they cry just like us. They love just like us.
And when they’re hurt… they deserve help just like us.
If you’ve never held a baby monkey, you can’t fully understand what it means when they finally stop shaking in your arms. But if you watch Santa’s first rescue in the video above, you might come close.
Please share her story. Let the world know that little Santa made it.
Not because she was the strongest.
But because someone saw her and said: You matter.