I saw a picture of this fluffy bugger the other day, and I haven’t been able to stop wondering since then…
What the fuck is a kinkajou?
Today’s Moment of Science… yes, you will want one, no, you shouldn’t get one.
Is it a bird? A plane? A monkey? Well, you couldn’t be faulted for mistaking these darling rascals for primates. At one point they were believed to be a type of lemur. However, kinkajous are- and I will fight you on this- the cutest of the raccoon cousins.
Measuring about two feet long from pink snout to fuzzy butt, they have an equally long prehensile tail. With a high degree of spinal flexibility and hind legs that can rotate backwards, they’re a machine built for traversing the rainforest canopy with speed and dexterity in pursuit of their one true love: sugar.
Though these nocturnal rainforest trash pandas are technically omnivores, these little gluttons mainly want all the fruit they can shovel into their itsy little face holes. Their five inch long extensible tongue helps them dig into flowers and ripe fruits. In the process, these hungry souls are doing their part for their ecosystem via seed dispersal and cross-pollination. Which are fancy ways to say “shitting seeds on the rainforest floor” and “getting wasted on nectar.”
Not quite pack animals and not quite loners, they have what’s been described as a “solitary group-life.” They’re just your typical introvert; heading back to their hidey hole in the tree for lazy kinkajou time and getting together for grooming, snacking, and of course occasionally making baby kinkajous. Moms are solely responsible for raising and feeding these hungry mouths, and offspring tend to leave home at sexual maturity (eighteen months for males and about two years for females).
With their tree-bound lifestyle, they’ve found a home that keeps them mostly safe from predation. Sleeping in their dens during the day is when they can be vulnerable to the most unfortunate of encounters with an eagle. However, their biggest threat? Humans. Between deforestation and hunting them for meat, pelt, and pets, we’re worse for them than the average bear.
Should you get one? First, no, and second, no.
Even though they’re friendly and docile, they can startle easily and deliver a painful fucker of a bite. A sign that they’re more difficult and take more work than people suspect, as many as 90% of kinkajous taken in as pets are reportedly rehomed, often more than once. They typically live 23 years in captivity, but they can live up to 40 years, which is a goddamn commitment.
I understand if you may be thinking “but I had this super annoying cat once so I got this,” you don’t. These sweet nopes have what your cat doesn’t: a tail equivalent of opposable thumbs, and very little concern for if you get your rent deposit back. Maybe just get another super annoying cat.
This has been your Moment of Science, trying desperately to put a pillow over the face of the voice in my head saying “BUT I STILL WANT ONE.”
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