But it’s not clear the gorillas know the rules. Especially that giant one over there. The one walking along that felled log right there. The one coming over here. “Look submissive!” someone hisses in my direction. Everyone has crouched down and is studying their feet and the many insects around them. Gorillas are incredibly gentle, we’ve been told by several experts before coming here. But they are also plain old enormous; mature males typically weigh up to 500 pounds. They are impressive beasts, and seem easily capable of inflicting serious damage should the need arise. Ideally, you’d go with expert guides. But about six months ago, General Nkunda’s forces, took control of this strategic territory along the border with Rwanda. Most of the human population fled: the empty villages and un-cultivated fields a haunting testimony to the toll of the war. Most of the park rangers also left, or were forced to leave. The mountain gorillas, though, are still here. And so are a few former park rangers who have split from Congolese park services. They, along with a “guard” of rebel soldiers, led us to the gorillas this morning. They still wear their old uniforms and talk of their long histories with the park service. But they fail to tell us of the 7-meter rule, and seem fairly flexible on the other rules, including the number of people allowed to get close, and the amount of time we’re allowed to stay. So as the behemoth gorilla struts slowly towards us, I suddenly wonder if we’ve walked into a dangerous situation. And more immediately, am I doing “submissive” right? I sneak a glance up away from my feet. He’s practically going to brush my arm as he passes. Assuming he’s planning to pass. The gorilla shoots us a long, hard look. And, thankfully, keeps walking past me, the soldiers, and the rebel rangers. With a rustle of branches, he goes deeper into the forest.