第109章

The anxious, painful, and changeable expression of its countenance, and the want of purpose in its movements, betray this.Its actions are like those of a wayward child; it does not seem happy even when it has plenty of its favourite food, bananas; but will leave its own meal to snatch the morsels out of the hands of its companions.It differs in these mental traits from its nearest kindred, for another common Cebus, found in the same parts of the forest, the Prego monkey (Cebus cirrhifer?), is a much quieter and better-tempered animal; it is full of tricks, but these are generally of a playful character.

The Caiarara keeps the house in a perpetual uproar where it is kept-- when alarmed, or hungry, or excited by envy, it screams piteously; it is always, however, making some noise or other, often screwing up its mouth and uttering a succession of loud notes resembling a whistle.My little pet, when loose, used to run after me, supporting itself for some distance on its hind legs, without, however, having been taught to do it.He offended me greatly one day, by killing, in one of his jealous fits, another and much choicer pet--the nocturnal owl-faced monkey (Nyctipithecus trivirgatus).Someone had given this a fruit, which the other coveted, so the two got to quarrelling.The Nyctipithecus fought only with its paws, clawing out and hissing like a cat; the other soon obtained the mastery, and before Icould interfere, finished his rival by cracking its skull with his teeth.Upon this, I got rid of him.

On recrossing the river to Aveyros in the evening, a pretty little parrot fell from a great height headlong into the water near the boat, having dropped from a flock which seemed to be fighting in the air.One of the Indians secured it for me, and Iwas surprised to find the bird uninjured.There had probably been a quarrel about mates, resulting in our little stranger being temporarily stunned by a blow on the head from the beak of a jealous comrade.The species was the Conurus guianensis, called by the natives Maracana-- the plumage green, with a patch of scarlet under the wings.I wished to keep the bird alive and tame it, but all our efforts to reconcile it to captivity were vain;it refused food, bit everyone who went near it, and damaged its plumage in its exertions to free itself.My friends in Aveyros said that this kind of parrot never became domesticated.After trying nearly a week I was recommended to lend the intractable creature to an old Indian woman, living in the village, who was said to be a skillful bird-tamer.In two days she brought it back almost as tame as the familiar love-birds of our aviaries.I kept my little pet for upwards of two years; it learned to talk pretty well, and was considered quite a wonder as being a bird usually so difficult of domestication.I do not know what arts the old woman used-- Captain Antonio said she fed it with her saliva.The chief reason why almost all animals become so wonderfully tame in the houses of the natives is, I believe, their being treated with uniform gentleness, and allowed to run at large about the rooms.

Our Maracana used to accompany us sometimes in our rambles, one of the lads carrying it on his head.One day, in the middle of a long forest road, it was missed, having clung probably to an overhanging bough and escaped into the thicket without the boy perceiving it.Three hours afterwards, on our return by the same path, a voice greeted using a colloquial tone as we passed--"Maracana!" We looked about for some time, but could not see anything, until the word was repeated with emphasis-- "Maracana-a!" When we espied the little truant half concealed in the foliage of a tree, he came down and delivered himself up, evidently as much rejoiced at the meeting as we were.

After I had obtained the two men promised, stout young Indians, seventeen or eighteen years of age, one named Ricardo and the other Alberto, I paid a second visit to the western side of the river in my own canoe; being determined, if possible, to obtain specimens of the White Cebus.We crossed over first to the mission village, Santa Cruz, which consists of thirty or forty wretched-looking mud huts, closely built together in three straight ugly rows on a high gravelly bank.The place was deserted, with the exception of two or three old men and women and a few children.A narrow belt of wood runs behind the village; beyond this is an elevated, barren campo with a clayey and gravelly soil.To the south, the coast country is of a similar description; a succession of scantily-wooded hills, bare grassy spaces, and richly-timbered hollows.We traversed forest and campo in various directions during three days without meeting with monkeys, or indeed with anything that repaid us the time and trouble.The soil of the district appeared too dry; at this season of the year I had noticed, in other parts of the country, that mammals and birds resorted to the more humid areas of forest; we therefore proceeded to explore carefully the low and partly swampy tract along the coast to the north of Santa Cruz.

We spent two days in this way landing at many places, and penetrating a good distance in the interior.Although unsuccessful with regard to the White Cebus, the time was not wholly lost, as I added several small birds of species new to my collection.On the second evening we surprised a large flock, composed of about fifty individuals, of a curious eagle with a very long and slender hooked beak, the Rostrhamus hamatus.They were perched on the bushes which surrounded a shallow lagoon, separated from the river by a belt of floating grass; my men said they fed on toads and lizards found at the margins of pools.They formed a beautiful sight as they flew up and wheeled about at a great height in the air.We obtained only one specimen.