Curu II, 1st Day Spiders...

The first day at Curu, we were given the basic rules (don't go anywhere by yourself--a rule I broke often and on purpose; be aware of your surroundings (they could change incredibly quickly: weather, animals, etc); treat the animals with respect). Beyond the rules, we were told to enjoy ourselves and what the jungle had to offer.

For many of us, it was our first experience outside the United States and the closest we had come to wild (more or less) animals. In fact, the refuge family (Dona, Adalina, Jose, and Frederico) was careful to remind us of home with their questions about the USA.

After we settled into our cabins (we used two of the three available), we gathered by the main house to walk up to the spider monkeys. Spider monkeys, to me, seemed to be the most fascinating primate we studied because of their hands--they have no thumb, but long spider-like fingers. (all spider monkey pics are mine)

Long and lanky creatures, they have a very strong tail that can acts like a extra hand and can bear their weight. In fact, the inside of their tail (the part that would wrap around something) was so soft, it reminded me of the nose of a horse--velvety and peach fuzzy. I was amazed at how much dexterity they had with their tails and the level of awareness they had of its location in space.

Adalina, the daughter of the Dona and head of the refuge to the outside world, brought along mangos to feed the spider monkeys (pictured at right).
Most of us fed them by tossing it to them (at first), but as our fear died down, we would hand it to them. These spiders were, for the most part, domesticated to humans in the sense that many visitors would feed them and socialize with them, but only for limited times controlled by the staff and Adalina. 
Acutely intelligent and playful, the spiders delighted us for a few hours that first day. I thought I might run out of film (I brought 18 roles of 35 mm film and used every role during my entire stay.) This playfulness carried over into their teasing of the largest, and by far the strongest, spider monkey, Bolivar. Bolivar was caged because, well, he was crazy. Although he had mated with several females, the staff was careful to keep him caged because he was known to have fits of rage that frightened the other monkeys and also the staff to such a degree they would dart him just to get him back in the cage.  The problem with Bolivar was that he was intelligent enough to occasionally escape from his small cage.

I would think that he was the troop leader and alpha male of the group, even when he was caged. But on occasion, the other, more daring, males in the group would tease him. My favorite picture I've ever taken comes from this type of play:

(Even though Bolivar looks small in his cage (pictured), he was easily a third bigger than any of the other spiders. We can see from the picture, he's fully aware there is nothing he can do except vocalize his disapproval. I just keep saying to myself each time I see this pic, "C'mon! Do something now!")

After our two or three hours with the spider monkeys, we went along the grove line in search for the white faced capuchins.  We found them and, once again, I took dozens of pictures, frightened I might not be able to take this shot ever again, I was liberal with my mother's camera.

One story, related to spider monkeys, that I must tell, because I don't think I'll cover it later is that of the beginning of the bus trip to Montezuma. (One aspect of the trip I will cover later, but not this particular part; at least, I don't think.) As we were getting onto the bus, the spider monkeys were curious as to what this large wheeled contraption was that all this similar creatures were getting into was. Our group was in line to get onto the bus, and a spider monkey cut in front of me and was about to get onto the bus. Knowing full well that the locals had some fear of them, I, out of instinct, grabbed its tail and yanked it back. As I pulled, it let out a shriek that made me pause, but not enough to let go and I kept pulling. Then, I stepped onto the bus and took a seat--thinking nothing of it. My colleagues, however, thought I was nuts for grabbing hold of him and even being somewhat aggressive to him. My efforts proved futile though because as soon as I sat down, no one else had the gumption to grab the tail again, and the spider climbed onto the bus. Most of the people on the bus freaked out and exited out the rear door of the bus, running for their lives. I sat quietly and laughed to myself. One of the (armed) guards for the refuge had to finally come corral the rascal before we could be on our way.
Someone asked why I grabbed him. I didn't really think about it until it let out the shriek, then for a moment I thought, "That was a bad idea." Yet, I kept pulling and proceeded onto the bus. Nothing happened to me or anyone else. Perhaps I thought with my 210 pound heavily-muscled frame (I was a Phys Ed major and bodybuilder at the time), the primate would be slightly weaker or my equal in strength. I never tested my strength with one of them, and to be fair, I'm glad.