You know the monkey in those Ace Ventura movies? The real cheeky, way-too-smart-for-its-own-good, trouble making one?

A White-headed capuchin. This is the kind of monkey that attacked me. Only it had a knub for one of its arms. Let me tell you, that sucker knew how to use it!

I was interning at a wildlife sanctuary in Costa Rica when it happened. The monkeys name was Tarzan and he was non-releasable, meaning that no matter what kind of care he received, there was no safe way to release him back into the wild. He only had 3 legs. This is because as a baby, a local family had found him and brought him into their home, making him their pet. When he grew older they realized he was more than they could handle, so they released him back into the rainforest. He had never learned how to fend for himself and he wound up in the territory of Mantled howler monkeys. These other monkeys beat him up pretty badly, and he was found on the road with his injuries — most notably, one of his arms in need of being amputated for him to live. He was brought to the sanctuary, cared for by the owner and the volunteers, and has been living there ever since.

Don’t let his backstory fool you. This was one terror of a monkey. In fact, I don’t often think of him as being a monkey but a temperamental toddler instead. We, the volunteers and interns, had to let him roam freely around the sanctuary property for a few hours each day. We were instructed to never have any other animals out at this time, especially any turtle species (you’ll find out why below), and to never be making food for the other animals while he was out.

We also quickly found out we shouldn’t have a box of food-handlers gloves hanging around (he plucked every single glove out of the box and threw them around the entire sanctuary) nor should we use tape to hang the feeding charts (he ripped them all down). It was also explained to us that the way these monkeys mate is aggressively and therefore, if you are a female volunteer or intern, you had to be careful with how you interacted with him. Men could do whatever they wanted — clean his enclosure with him in it, coddle him, feed him, play with him — and have zero problems. Women on the other hand, had to be “chosen” by him for them to be able to do anything with him safely. Yes, he played favorites. And I was not one of them.

So many volunteers and interns came through the sanctuary for such limited amounts of time that the owner decided to put together a guide for newbies to read, so that she didn’t have to constantly repeat information. However, it was out-of-date, so it became the job of the current volunteers to train the new volunteers on what to do and what not to do. Because of this, there were many details and instructions not often passed around to everyone involved in the animals care.

Information was especially not well-received by a new father-daughter duo who had let Tarzan out of his enclosure while I was cleaning our baby red river turtle tank. This is a huge no-no because the monkey is obsessed with turtles and has even been known to steal them and put them in a hole in his favorite tree where they could crawl out and suffer the consequences of falling 60 feet. These specific turtles were of high concern as they aren’t a species that is prevalent in the wild. 

These new volunteers never told anyone about letting Tarzan out. I was holding one of the baby turtles in my hand, scrubbing some fungal matter off the back of its shell, when Tarzan suddenly appeared at my side! He grabbed my arm trying to snatch the turtle, but I quickly put it back in its tub and threw the mesh lid on. However, this lid needed a concrete block on top of it to keep it secure and I couldn’t reach the block in time. Tarzan forcefully pushed the mesh lid off and tried snatching the turtle again while I found the concrete block. I threw the mesh lid back onto the turtles tub and put the block on top, and Tarzan tried shoving the block off again.

After a few more angry unsuccessful tries, he gave me one look that said “Oh, it’s ON lady!” and proceeded to jump on my chest, biting me, smacking me, grabbing and pulling my skin, and making threatening noises. I pushed him down my body while he was attacking me, until he was on the ground making a puncture wound in my heel. He stood up and ran toward me with his arm and his knub in the air and baring his teeth when the owner came around the corner and distracted him away.

After my shift that day, back in my accommodation, I disinfected my wounds and iced my thigh. He had left a handprint on my leg from where he smacked me which later turned into the gnarliest bruise I’ve ever had! Five years later and I still have a faded scar on my heel from his bite.

I used to think that working with monkeys would be my ideal job. So I went to college for a degree in Wildlife Biology and interned at this sanctuary hoping to gain some experience with them. It completely changed my mind about what I thought I wanted to be doing and as strange as it sounds, I am so glad I was attacked by this monkey, because it, among other monkey-related work here, put me on the path to discovering what I really wanted to work with. 

Have you ever experienced an animal attack?

Has a lack of communication ever caused a bad situation for you? 

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