No Milk! Anna Tells Alba “No Milk” | Poor Alba Begs Mother
In the heart of the jungle, where the sunlight filters through the high canopy and the trees hum with life, emotions often run just as wild as the creatures who live beneath the leaves. Among the troop of macaques that called this forest home, a quiet but heartbreaking moment unfolded between a mother, her baby, and a young foster who only wanted love and nourishment.
Alba, a small and vulnerable baby monkey, had already lived through more hardship than most her age. She had lost her own mother early in life—whether to illness, an accident, or abandonment, no one knew. Since then, she had clung to any hope of affection, wandering the troop and trying to find comfort from older females. But finding a replacement mother in the wild is never easy, especially when survival resources like milk are limited and fiercely protected.
Anna, a strong and experienced mother, had a newborn of her own—tiny, fragile, and always close to her belly. She was fiercely protective of her baby, and her maternal instincts were strong. One morning, while the troop gathered around a fruit tree, Alba approached Anna with hopeful eyes. She was weak from hunger, her small frame thinner than usual, her cries softer and more desperate.
Alba didn’t try to take food from Anna’s hands. She didn’t wrestle or beg for attention from the others. She simply crawled slowly toward Anna, reaching out gently, seeking just one thing: milk.
Anna noticed her approach. At first, she allowed Alba to come close. Alba pressed herself against Anna’s side, her small hands clutching at her fur, and she tilted her head toward Anna’s chest in search of comfort.
But Anna turned and gave a sharp vocalization—short and firm. “No.”
Alba paused, not understanding. She tried again, reaching for the warm scent of milk that she’d longed for. Anna bared her teeth this time and pushed Alba away with her arm—not violently, but with enough force to send the message clearly.
No milk.
Alba tumbled gently to the ground, dazed not by the push, but by the rejection. Her wide eyes filled with confusion and sadness. She cried out—a soft, heartbreaking call that echoed faintly across the clearing. She wasn’t trying to steal; she just wanted to survive. But Anna had her own child to care for, and in the wild, even the most loving mothers must sometimes be strict to protect their own.
The troop around them fell silent. A few juveniles watched, uncertain. An older female nearby sighed and turned away. This was not the first time Alba had begged for milk, and it might not be the last.
Alba didn’t fight or scream. She simply sat there, rocking slightly, tears in her eyes as she watched Anna nurse her baby. Her own tiny belly rumbled with emptiness, and her hope seemed to shrink with every passing moment.
But even in sorrow, there was a quiet strength in Alba. She didn’t give up. After a few minutes, she crawled slowly toward another female across the clearing, her cries softer now. She was still trying—still searching for someone, anyone, who might give her a chance.
And sometimes, the jungle answers softly. One of the lower-ranking mothers, with an older infant no longer fully nursing, allowed Alba to sit near. She didn’t offer her chest immediately, but she didn’t push her away either.
It was a tiny sign of hope.
The jungle is harsh, and not every baby survives. But Alba, with her resilient spirit and quiet pleading eyes, still held on. Even when told “no,” even when pushed aside, she continued to seek love and life.
Anna had not been cruel—she had been honest. There was no milk for Alba from her, but perhaps somewhere, someday, another mother’s heart would soften.
And Alba would find what she needed most.
