Togar.

The first thing that claims space on a wall is color, and Togar's doesn't keep quiet: a warm rust red, the shade an orangutan goes through life in, unable to hide. From far off, among branches, that red blends in a little; up close, and on a poster all the more, it's what commands. Against the grey infant's face and the big dark eyes, it pulls the gaze of anyone who walks into the room.

On top he wears real kid's clothes: the denim overalls and the orange-and-white striped shirt rhyme with his fur without quite matching it, and give him the air of a child dressed to go out. There's nothing else around: no painted jungle, no branches, no sky. Just Togar, and he's enough. It works well in a kids' room, in a reading nook, or on the wall where other frames already hang.

Togar lives way up high, in the canopy of the Leuser Ecosystem, beside the village of Bukit Lawang, in the north of Sumatra. It's a tall forest that bears fruit almost all year round, and that canopy is his whole home: he doesn't come down to the ground if he can help it.

His species is called, and rightly so, the gardener of the forest. An orangutan eats a great deal of fruit and moves nonstop through the branches, so it goes dropping the seeds of hundreds of trees across half the forest; without that coming and going, a jungle like Leuser's would take far longer to grow back where it thins out. Togar is still learning it all — a little one who fills his belly and follows his own from canopy to canopy — but he already does his part without knowing he's doing it. Hanging him on a wall is having close by one of the animals that keep their forest going by eating. In Leuser there are fruit trees by the hundreds, and much of that larder is still standing because, season after season, generations of orangutans went dropping seeds wherever they passed.