My Dad raised tobacco and share cropped many small farms when he was alive.One summer we raised a small patch located on a narrow ridge top surrounded by woods. On the one side was a deep wooded hollow with a line of locust trees running almost the length of the field. My Dad was cultivating the tobacco with the tractor as my brother and I were chopping out between the plants. All of sudden my Dad dead stopped the tractor and yelled at us to look while he was pointing at the tops of those locust trees. We looked and swinging and screaming thru the tree tops was a small monkey with a red collar around his neck. His tail was as long as his arms and he used it like another arm. He never slowed down as he swung thru the trees out of sight. We never seen him again after that.