92 The Naturalist in Nicaragua 
with troops of the monkeys. Don Francisco Velasquez, one 
of our officers, told me that one day he heard a monkey 
crying out in the forest for more than two hours, and at last, 
going to see what was the matter, he saw one on a branch and 
an eagle beside it trying to frighten it to turn its back, when. 
it would have seized'it. The monkey, however, kept its face 
to its foe, and the eagle did not care to engage with it in this 
position, but probably would have tired it out. Velasquez 
fired at the eagle, and frightened it away. I think it likely 
from what I have seen of the habits of the spider-monkeys 
that they defend themselves from this peril by keeping two 
or three together, thus assisting each other, and that it is only 
when the eagle finds one separated from its companions 
that it dares to attack it. 
Sometimes, but more rarely, we would fall in with a troop 
of the white-faced cebus monkey, rapidly running away, 
throwing themselves from tree to tree. This monkey feeds 
also partly on fruit, but is incessantly on the look-out for 
insects, examining the crevices in trees and withered leaves, 
seizing the largest beetles and munching them up with great 
relish. It is also very fond of eggs and young birds, and 
must play havoc amongst the nestlings. Probably owing to 
its carnivorous habits, its flesh is not considered so good by 
monkey-eaters as that of the fruit-feeding spider-monkey, but 
I never myself tried either. It is a very intelligent and 
mischievous animal. I kept one for a long time as a pet, 
and was much amused with its antics. At first, I had it 
fastened with a light chain; but it managed to open the links 
and escape several times, and then made straight for the 
fowls’ nest, breaking every egg it could get hold of. Generally, 
after being an hour or two loose, it would allow itself to be 
caught again. I tried tying it up with a cord, and after- 
wards with a raw-hide thong, but had to nail the end, as it 
could loosen any knot ina few minutes. It would sometimes 
entangle itself round a pole to which it was fastened, and then 
unwind the coils again with great discernment. Its chain 
allowed it to swing down below the verandah, but it could 
not reach to the ground. Sometimes, when there were broods 
of young ducks about, it would hold out a piece of bread in 
one hand, and, when it had tempted a duckling within reach, 
seize it by the other, and kill it with a bite in the breast. 
