National Geographic : 1964 May
"Onga-jaguar,"says Radiokoobee. Time goes by. Nothing happens. The hunters relax. "The jaguar has gone," says Ipatoto. Now the two break into a run. They leap through the underbrush and beckon to me. "Come! Quick!" "Monkeys," one of them says when they finally halt. "They are passing up there in the treetops." Branches rustle and snap, quivering under the weight of many monkeys. A band of sakis keeps emitting reedy, quavering whistles, almost like a whine. Silently following them are some woolly monkeys, which with the sakis are among the largest monkeys in the Brazilian jungles. Adult males lead. Females follow, their young clinging tightly to their fur. Then come the adolescents and finally a single straggler, apparently a youngster on his own for the first time. Ipatoto shoots an arrow straight up. A saki cries out, falls, but holds on with hands, feet, and long prehensile tail. Only after three more arrows does he fall. Again we run through the forest and halt breathless. The Indians know exactly where the monkeys will pass again, for the animals follow established "highways" in the tree tops. We must be there ahead of them. We repeat this game a third time. After that the animals are so frightened that they scatter in all directions. We have bagged two fat woolly monkeys and a male black saki with long beard and powerful fangs. Recovering them from under growth, we find a young one clinging to one of the woolly monkeys. As I free it from the mother's fur and take it on my arm, it breaks into heart-rending cries. It quiets down only after I have talked to it for a long time. That Using fire tongs of lashed saplings, a woman rakes a charred pod of Brazil nuts from a bed of coals. To get the jungle delicacy, which the Indians enjoy half ripe, women and girls burned down a 125-foot-high Bertholletiatree that bore hundreds of nut-filled capsules. Machete bares Brazil nuts in a spongy paste.