Barbary macaque, Europe’s monkey

A few hours

The original plan for exploring the very southern tip of Europe and the British territory on the continent was more ambitious, but in the end we only had the late afternoon and evening to visit. I actually didn’t mind. I was hoping that, during our family holiday, I could get up onto the Rock in the evening, when the light might be a little more forgiving for photography.

We parked the car on the Spanish side in La Línea de la Concepción for €13, had a late lunch, and then walked across the runway of Gibraltar’s international airport to set foot on British territory. From the very first streets, it felt as though we had suddenly found ourselves in a corner of a small English town. Even the little shops looked completely different from those in Spain, and when I bought our afternoon coffees, I couldn’t help noticing that everything was a little more expensive here, too.

We didn’t hang around for long. We followed Main Street through the centre and hurried on to the lower cable-car station leading up to the Rock of Gibraltar. Not that we couldn’t have easily walked up the hill, but we were a little pressed for time. We wanted to explore the ridge, check out the viewpoints and caves—and photograph the monkeys.

Dangerous troops

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy Gibraltar’s streets, but I couldn’t wait to meet the only species of monkey found in Europe. Around 230 Barbary macaques (Macaca sylvanus), divided into nine troops, live exclusively on the summit of the Rock of Gibraltar.

As the cable car approached the upper station, it was already obvious that finding these highly habituated monkeys would be no challenge at all. One of them actually rode up with us on the roof of the eight-person cable car, while another immediately snatched a woman’s glasses from her face as she stepped out and ran off with them. I had a feeling that finding and photographing the monkeys wouldn’t be the problem—it would be defending ourselves against them.

The macaques routinely jumped onto tourists’ shoulders, and anything you put down—or, in fact, sometimes didn’t put down—was stolen within seconds. So when I was photographing, I preferred to have Oliver with me to keep an eye on things while I changed lenses in my backpack. All it took was a moment of inattention and there was no way of keeping the furry thieves at bay.

I understand why the local authorities on the Rock deliberately provide the monkeys with supplemental food. They must dread the thought of what would happen if the macaques moved down into the nearby streets and started raiding restaurants.

Tricky situations

Although I was thinking on the way back that two hours of photography had been enough, in retrospect I keep thinking that I could have spent much longer there with my camera—even on repeated visits. There were so many interactions between tourists and macaques, and so many of them were downright bizarre, that the whole “urban wildlife” side of the story would definitely deserve more attention.

Pretty much every few minutes, some kind of “incident” took place—a theft, an attack, monkeys hopping onto people or climbing over cars. And with a little creativity, it was possible to include some of the surrounding hills and cliffs in the background, or the harbour and city below. I also loved the sheer number of baby macaques, constantly being fussed over by the adults.

Everything I came up with and spotted was barely possible to photograph fast enough. Olí was doing a brilliant job helping me change lenses, too. It was hot, and I was sweating constantly from the nonstop shooting. I needed more time. Still, I think these few images should give you a pretty good idea of what it was like.

That was all the time we had with the macaques. We took the last cable car down, had a light dinner with some very drinkable English beer, walked back into Spain, and spent the night by the sandy beach in Tarifa.

Related links
Wildlife photography articles
Monkey photographs on Shutterstock
Photography workshops