Zoo Boise says Elvis may be the oldest spider monkey in the world

With Fourth of July fanfare, Zoo Boise celebrated birthdays of some of its oldest animals over the weekend — including what zoo workers say could be the oldest spider monkey in the world.

Elvis the black-handed spider monkey turned 60, and Mr. Mac the Aldabra tortoise turned 100.

Elvis is phenomenally old, as spider monkeys usually live to be about 20 to 40, Jeff Agosta, marketing and public relations coordinator for Friends of Zoo Boise, told the Idaho Statesman.

Zoo Boise is in the process of verifying Elvis’ age. His full history is not well-documented, since he was previously donated to the Denver Zoo by a private individual, Melissa Wade, assistant curator at Zoo Boise, told the Statesman.

And while Mr. Mac might seem elderly, he’s just hitting retirement age in tortoise years. Aldabra tortoises can live up to 150 years, but their exact age span isn’t known because they have outlived scientists who studied them, Agosta said.

Agosta said saying hello to the zoo’s oldest residents is a shared experience between generations of Idaho families.

“Parents who come to the zoo with their children will be like, ‘Oh my gosh, that’s the same tortoise I saw when I was a kid,’ ” he said.

At the zoo’s celebrations, animals ripped open boxes of treats. For human party guests, the zoo held a parade, a costume contest, a brass band, and other activities.

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Blue-eyed Elvis is one of two black-handed spider monkeys at Zoo Boise.

Black-handed spider monkeys are endangered and originate from Central America, where they live in rainforests and mountain forests.

Elvis came to Zoo Boise from the Denver Zoo in 1973, and his estimated birth year is 1962, Wade said.

The zoo suspected Elvis might be the oldest living spider monkey on the planet because captive animals, under human care, live longer than wild counterparts, since they’re not dealing with deforestation, hunting, loss of habitat, and poaching, Agosta said.

“He is this anomaly and he’s still insanely active,” Agosta said.

But Elvis isn’t exempt from the burdens of old age. For a while, he was drinking small amounts of Ensure, a nutritional supplement, Agosta said.

Elvis also has made a name for himself as a bit of a churlish resident. The zookeepers who have taken care of him for the past 10 years have been female, Agosta said, so he’s protective of them.

“Elvis does not like any of the males who work at the zoo,” Agosta said. “Specifically, he hates me.”

To avoid stressing Elvis out, nobody goes into the exhibit with him, and his training is done through a fence, Agosta added.

Even so, there’s no slacking off for the monkey — every day, trainers keep him engaged with activities that simulate life in the wild. This helps Elvis be as wild as possible under human care, Agosta said.

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The 353-pound Mr. Mac leads a different lifestyle than Elvis.

“Mr Mac spends most of the day doing what you think he would do, and that’s basking in the sun and laying in his pool,” Agosta said.

Mr. Mac came to Zoo Boise in 1979 from wildlife management services in Grand Prairie, Texas, Wade said.

“He really enjoys his salads,” Kate Lyon, a former Zoo Boise volunteer, told the Statesman. He’s a slow-moving tortoise, but once the salad comes out, he makes pre-historic noises and starts hustling toward you, Lyon added.

Without the promise of a salad, this giant tortoise felt no urgency.

When zookeepers sprayed Mr. Mac’s exhibit with warm water in the winter, he liked to lay on the hose, and it was almost impossible to move him off, Lyon said.

Despite his languor, Mr. Mac enjoys interacting with the public, Agosta said. As an ambassador for the zoo, the giant tortoise meets kids at summer camp and makes appearances during fundraisers and galas.

The zoo aims to protect its animals and their wild counterparts. Zoo Boise was the first zoo to include an automatic wildlife conservation fee into admissions, and they’ve raised over $3 million dollars toward wildlife conservation since 2007, Agosta said.

“The animals here are ambassadors for their species in the wild, helping generate funds for wildlife conservation,” Agosta said.