94 The Naturalist in Nicaragua 
and expression that we, not entering so fully into his feelings 
and wants, passed over as unintelligible There is a third 
species of monkey (Mycetes palliatus), called by the natives 
the congo, which occasionally is heard howling in the forest; 
but they are not often seen, as they generally remain quiet 
amongst the upper branches of particular trees. 
One day, when riding down this path, I came upon a pack 
of pisotes (Nasua fusca, Desm.), a raccoon-like animal, that 
ascends all the small trees, searching for birds’ nests and 
fruits. There were not less than fifty in the pack I saw, and 
nothing seemed likely to escape their search in the track 
they were travelling. Sometimes solitary specimens of the 
pisoti are met with, hunting alone in the forest. I once saw 
one near Juigalpa, ascending tree after tree, and climbing 
every branch, apparently in search of birds’ nests. They are 
very fond of eggs; and the tame ones, which are often kept 
as pets, play havoc amongst the poultry when they got loose. 
They are about the size of a hare, with a taper snout, strong 
tusks, a thick hairy coat, and bushy tail. When passing 
down this road, I at times saw the fine curl-crested curassow 
(Crax globicera), as large as a turkey, jet black, excepting 
underneath. This kind would always take to the trees, and 
was easy to shoot, and as good eating as it was noble in 
1 [Mickey came into Belt’s possession in rather an interesting way. ° 
He belonged to the well-known German botanist Dr. Seemann, who 
was the manager at that time of the neighbouring Javali mine. See- 
mann died at Javali; and when Belt went to read the Burial Service 
over him,’ as was his custom upon the death of any European, the 
monkey sprang upon him and, seizing him by the neck, clung to him 
with all his might. So determined was he to adopt Belt as his pro- 
tector that the matter ended by his being taken back to Chontales 
where he lived in great contentment. 
This frantic clinging to some one for protection was always the 
conclusion of Mickey’s short experiences of freedom. He probably 
did not find his captivity at all irksome, for on getting loose from his 
chain he made no attempt to escape into the adjoining forest, but 
contented himself with running round and round the house and garden 
thoroughly enjoying the hue and cry after him. But becoming either 
alarmed at or weary of his escapade, he always ended by making a 
rush for the eldest of the children whom he half throttled with his 
sinewy little arms while offering voluble excuses in his own language. 
On one occasion, however, it was feared that Mickey was really gone, 
for, contrary to all precedent, he had left the garden and betaken 
himself to the forest where of course all trace of him was at once lost. 
But after nightfall a pattering of small feet was heard in the passage, 
and there was Mickey with a very woe-begone and penitent expression 
on his white face, asking to be received and forgiven.] 
