In the heart of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat forest, there lives a mother-to-be who has captured the hearts of anyone lucky enough to cross her path. Her name is Amara, and she’s not just any monkey—she’s a soon-to-be mom who’s found her greatest joy in the simplest thing: a star-fruit.
It’s morning, and the forest hums softly with life. The dew still clings to the leaves, and the sun filters through the canopy, casting golden patterns on the ground. Amara emerges from the brush slowly. She walks with a careful grace, her round belly swaying gently with each step.
She’s heavily pregnant now. You can see it in the way she holds her body, protective and proud. As someone who has been documenting her for weeks, I’ve come to know her daily rhythms—and today, like many others, she is on a quiet quest.
She’s looking for her favorite.
Star-fruit.
A Silent Craving
There’s something magical about the way Amara finds joy in her routine. She sniffs the air, gently climbs a small slope where the fruit trees grow, and pauses beneath a twisted old branch.
The fruit glows golden and green in the morning light. As she reaches for it, there’s no greed in her action—only a soft determination. She plucks it gently, sits beneath the shade, and holds it close, almost reverently. One bite at a time, she chews slowly, eyes half-closed, savoring every bite like it’s a gift meant only for her and the baby inside her.
Watching her, I was struck by something deeply human. This wasn’t just about hunger—it was comfort. It was care. She was nurturing herself because she was preparing to nurture someone else. There’s something so universally tender about that moment. A craving met, a soul quieted.
Other Monkeys Watch, But None Interrupt
Around her, young monkeys play. Some scamper past curiously, hoping for a bite, but Amara lifts her hand gently, holding her space with quiet authority. She’s not aggressive. She doesn’t hoard. But everyone seems to know: this is her time. Her belly commands respect.
It’s not often in the wild that you see a scene so peaceful, so maternal. Usually, fights break out over food, especially sweet fruit like this. But Amara… she inspires peace. Even the dominant males don’t bother her.
Nature’s Gentle Warrior
There was a moment today that brought tears to my eyes. After finishing her fruit, Amara slowly climbed down and settled into the shade of a banyan tree. She placed her hand over her belly, then looked up toward the sky as if whispering a silent prayer.
It was a simple, fleeting gesture—but I saw it.
That’s when I realized: even in the wild, motherhood is sacred.
Waiting for the Baby
Amara is due any day now. You can feel it in the way the group watches her. Even the forest seems quieter around her lately. Every small sound makes her lift her head and glance around—perhaps wondering if this moment, this day, is the beginning of something new.
I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be. If this star-fruit ritual is any sign, I believe she’ll be nurturing, gentle, and protective. The kind of mother who leads with quiet strength.