CHAPTER XIII.
THE APLODONTIA LEPORINA. (Rich.)(Sewellel or Show’tl of the Nesqually Indians.)
Synonyms.—Aplodontia leporina, Rich., F.B.A. i. 211, plate xviii.; Aud. Bach. N.A. Qua. iii., 1853, 99, pl. cxxiii.;Hoplodon leporinus, Wagler System, Amh., 1830;Anisonyx rufa, Rafinesque, Am. Month. Mag. ii. 1817;Arctomys rufa, Harlan, F. Am, 1825, 308;Sewellel, Lewis and Clark’s Travels, ii. 1815, 176.
General Dimensions.—Nose to ear, 2 in. 7 lines; nose to eyes, 1 in. 5 lines; tail to end of vertebræ, 9 lines; tail to end of hair, 1 in. 2 lines; ear, height, 5 lines; nose to root of tail, 14 in. 6 lines.
I firstmet with this rare and curious little rodent on the bank of the Chilukweyuk river. My canvas house is pitched in a snug spot, overshadowed by a clump of cottonwood trees, growing close to a stream, that like liquid crystal ripples past in countless channels, finding its way betwixt massive boulders of trap and green-stone, rounded and polished until they look like giant marbles.
Towering up behind me are the Cascade Mountains, with snow-clad summits dim in the haze of distance, their craggy slopes split into chasms and ravines, so deep, dark, and lonesome, that no man’s footfall has ever disturbed their solitudes, so densely wooded up to the very snow-line with pine, that a bare rock has hardly a chance to peep out, and break the sombre monotony of the dark-green foliage.
OU-KA-LA(Aplodontia leporina).
OU-KA-LA(Aplodontia leporina).
Before me, stretching away for about three miles, is an open grassy prairie, one side of which is bounded by the Chilukweyuk river, the other by the Fraser. At the junction of the two streams, at an angle of the prairie, stands an Indian village: the rude-plank sheds and rush-lodges; the white smoke, curling gracefully up through the still atmosphere from many lodge-fires; the dusky forms of the savages, as they loll or stroll in the fitful night, give life and character to a scene indescribably lovely.
The Indian summer is drawing to a close; the maple, the cottonwood, and the hawthorn, fringing the winding waterways, like silver cords intersecting the prairie, have assumed their autumn tints, and, clad in browns and yellows, stand out in brilliant contrast to the green of the pine-forest. The prairie looks bright and lovely; the grass, as yet untouched by the frost-fairy’sfingers, waves lazily; wild flowers, of varied tints, peep out from their hiding-places, enjoying to the last the lingering summer.
I had been for some time sitting on a log, admiring the sublime beauty of the scene, spread out before me like a gorgeous picture; the sun was fast receding behind the hilltops, the lengthening shadows were fading and growing dimly indistinct, the birds had settled down to sleep, and the busy hum of insect life was hushed. A deathlike quiet steals over everything in the wilderness as night comes on—a stillness that is painful from its intensity. The sound of your own breathing, the crack of a branch, a stone suddenly rattling down the hillside, the howl of the coyote, or the whoop of the night-owl, seem all intensified to an unnatural loudness. I know of nothing more appalling to the lonely wanderer camping by himself than this ‘jungle silence,’ that reigns through the weary hours of night.
This silence was suddenly broken, as was my reverie, by a sharp ringing whistle; it was so piercing and clear, that I could not believe it was produced by an animal. Hardly had it died away, when another whistler took it up, then a third, and so on, until at least a dozen had joinedin the chorus. I stole carefully in the direction from which the sound came, but as I neared the spot the whistle ceased, and it was now far too dark to descry any object on the ground. So, in doubt, and sorely puzzled to account for such an unusual sound, and with a firm determination to unravel the mystery in the morning, I returned to my camp. Could it be Indians? No, impossible; there were far too many whistlers, and the tone of each whistle was precisely alike. I was equally sure it was not the cry of the rock-whistler (Actomys); that sound I knew too well. What could it be?
As the grey light of morning came peering into my tent, I started off to investigate the secret of the mysterious whistler; but all I could discover, after a long and diligent search, was, that there were numerous runs and burrows excavated in the sandy banks of the river, but by what sort of animal I could not for the life of me guess. Setting a steel-trap at the entrance to one of the holes, I strolled down to the Indian village, thinking I should possibly be able to find out from the redskins what it was that made such shrill sounds. Partly by signs, and by using as much of their language as I knew, I endeavoured to make the old chief comprehend my queries.
After attentively watching my absurd attempts to produce a ringing whistle by placing my fingers in my mouth, and blowing through them until my face was like an apoplectic coachman’s, a smile of intelligence lit up his swarthy visage: then I violently dug imaginary holes, and explained that the sounds came about twilight; he nodded his head, dived into the tent, and disappeared in the smoke, to shortly emerge again with a rug or robe, made from the skins of an animal that was quite new to me.
It was beautifully soft, glossy, and brown. The skins were about the size of a large rat’s, and about twenty in number. Here, then, was the dawn of a discovery. He called the animalOu-ka-la, and made me understand that it lived on roots and vegetable matter, and burrowed holes in the ground.
As the daylight faded out, I again took my seat; and, just as before, when everything was silent, the woods echoed with the Ou-ka-la’s cry. I longed for morning, and hardly waited for light, but hastened off to my trap and, joy of joys, I had one sure enough, caught by the neck. Poor Ou-ka-la! your friends had heard, and you had given, your ‘last whistle.’ He was dead and cold—trapped, perhaps, whilst I listened wonderingly, keeping my lonely vigil. A very brief examination revealed the fact that I had caught a magnificent specimen of the Aplodontia leporina, of which I had only read.
Captains Lewis and Clark obtained some vague information about this animal, which is given in their journal of travel across the Rocky Mountains, in 1804. All they say of its habits is, ‘that it climbs trees, and digs like a squirrel.’ They obtained no specimen of the animal, but saw, probably, robes made of the skins. It was subsequently described by Rafinesque, and by him namedAnysonyx rufa, and by HarlanArctomys rufa. In 1829 Sir John Richardson obtained a specimen, and, after a careful anatomical examination, this eminent naturalist determined it to be a new genus, and renamed it, generically and specifically. The generic name (Aplodontia) is founded on its having rootless molars, or grinding teeth—aploos, simple;odons, a tooth. It belongs to the sub-familyCastorinæ, dental formula2 00 55/2 00 4422.
Sp. ch.—Size, that of a musk-rat; tail very short, barely visible; colour, glossy blackish-brown. Male, length about 14 inches; female resembling the male, but smaller. The fur is dense and woolly, with long bristly hairs, thicklyinterspersed; the short fur is bluish-gray at the base, the ends of the hairs being tipped with reddish-brown; the bristles are black, and when smooth give a lustrous appearance to the fur. The eyes are very small, and placed about midway between the nose and the ear. The whiskers, stiff and bristly, are much longer than the head, and dark grey. The ears are covered on both sides with fine soft hair, rounded and very short, and not unlike the human ear.
Skull.—The skull is much like that of the squirrel’s, with the marked exception of having rootless molars, and the absence of post-orbital processes; the occipital crest is well-developed, the muzzle large, and nearly round. The bony orbits are largely developed; the auditory bullæ are small, but open at once into wide auditive tubes; the first molar is unusually small, oval, and situated against the antero-internal angle of the second. All the molars are rootless: the lower grinders are much like the upper, but somewhat longer and narrower. The molars in both jaws are situated much farther back than is usual, the centre of the skull being about opposite to the meeting of the second and third. The lower jaw is very singularly shaped, the inner edges of the molars on opposite sides beingparallel; the descending ramus is bent, so as to be exactly horizontal behind, the postero-inferior edge being a straight line, nearly perpendicular to the vertical plane of the skull’s axis. The conformation of the incisor-teeth is admirably adapted to the purposes they have to fulfil; no carpenter’s gouging chisels are more effective tools than are these exquisitely-constructed teeth. It is essential that they should always have a sharp-cutting edge, in order to nip through the tough vegetable fibre on which the animal subsists; at the same time, strength and durability are indispensable. The Aplodontia has no whetstone or razor-grinder, to sharpen his tools when they grow blunt; but an Allwise Providence has so fashioned these wondrous chisels in all rodents, that the more they are used the sharper they keep; the contrivance is simple as it is beautiful. The substance of the tooth itself is composed of tough ivory, but plated on the outer surface with enamel as hard as steel. The ivory, being the softer material, of course wears away faster than the enamel; hence the latter, plating the front of the tooth, is always left with a sharp-cutting edge.
The position this genus should occupy, in a systematic arrangement of the rodents, has alwaysbeen a stumbling-block and a matter of doubt, in great measure attributable to the fact that but a single species of the genus is known, and very few specimens have hitherto been obtained. A fine male specimen has recently been set up in the British Museum collection, that I caught near my camp on the prairie.
In many particulars the Aplodontia very nearly resembles the Spermophiles, particularly the prairie-dog (Cynomys Ludovicciana), but differs, as in the true squirrels, in the rootless molars and absence of post-orbital processes. In this respect it is allied to the beaver. It is quite impossible to assign it a well-defined and settled position, until a greater number of specimens are procured, from which more minute and careful examination of the bony and internal anatomy can be made. At present, however, it would appear to connect the beavers with the squirrels, through the Spermophiles.
The name Lewis and Clark gave this animal, Sewellel, is evidently a corruption of an Indian word. The Chinook Indians, once a powerful tribe, live near the mouth of the Columbia; and from them, in all probability, Lewis and Clark obtained the name, and first heard of the animal. But the Chinook name for the Aplodontia isOgool-lal, Shu-wal-lal being the name of the robe made from the skins; and this is unquestionably the word corrupted into Sewellel, and misused as the name of the animal. In Puget’s Sound the Nesqually Indians call itShow′tl; the Yakama Indians,Squal-lah; and the Sumass Indians,Swok-la.
A single glance at the conformation of the feet would at once convince the most careless observer that climbing trees was not a habit of the Aplodontia. The feet and claws are digging implements, of the most finished and efficient kind: the long scoop-shaped nails, resembling garden trowels; wide strong foot, almost hand-like in its form; the strong muscular arms, supported by powerful clavicles, proclaim him a miner; his mission is to burrow, and most ably he fulfils his destiny. His haunt is usually by the side of a stream, where the banks are sandy, and the underbrush grows thickly; his favourite food being fine fibrous roots, and the rind of such as are too hard for his teeth. He spends his time in burrowing, not so much for shelter and concealment, as to supply himself with roots. He digs with great ease and rapidity, making a hole large enough for a man’s arm to be inserted.
In making the tunnels, he seldom burrows veryfar without coming to the surface, and beginning a new one. Like a skilful workman, he knows how to economise labour. Having to back the earth out of the mouth of the hole he is digging, the farther he gets in the harder grows the toil; and so he digs up through, and starts afresh. They seldom come out in the daytime, and I have but rarely heard them whistle until everything was still, and the twilight merged into night.
The female has from four to six young at a birth, and she has about two litters in a year. The nest for the young is much like that of the rabbit, made of grass and leaves, and placed at the end of a deep burrow. In the winter they only partially hibernate, frequently digging through the snow to eat the bark and lichen from the trees. Their gait when on the ground is very awkward; their broad short feet are not fitted for progression, and they shamble rather than run, and can be easily overtaken. Where a colony of them have resided for any time, the ground becomes literally riddled with holes, and the trees and shrubs die for want of roots. I imagine, from having found abandoned villages, that they wisely emigrate when their resources are exhausted. The Indians esteem their flesh a great luxury, and trap them in a kind of figure-offour trap, set at the mouth of the burrow. I daresay they are as good as a rabbit; still, they have too ratlike an appearance to possess any gastronomic attractions for me.De gustibus non est disputandum.
The Aplodontia has a terrible and untiring enemy in the badger (Taxidea Americana). He is always on the hunt for the poor little miner, digs him out from his hiding-place, and devours him with as much gusto as the Indian. Its geographical range is not very extended, being, as far as I know, confined to a small section of North-western America. I have seen it on the eastern and western slopes of the Cascades, but not on the Rocky Mountains, although it very probably exists there. It is also found at Puget’s Sound, Fort Steilacum, and on the banks of the Sumass and Chilukweyuk rivers, west of the Cascades; on the Nachess Pass, at Astoria and the Dalles, on the Columbia, east of the Cascades.
Feeding entirely on vegetable matter (I never discovered a trace of insect or larvæ remains in the stomach), passing its life principally in dark burrows, and limited, as far as we know at present, to a very narrow section of a barren country, it is hard to imagine what purpose it serves in the great chain of Nature, save it be thatof supplying food to the badger, and both food and clothing to the savage; and yet we know that it was fashioned for some specific purpose, if we could but read and rightly interpret the pages of Nature’s wondrous book. If we ask ourselves, Why was this or that made? how seldom can we answer the question! Why did He, who made the world, the sun, and the stars, deck the butterfly’s wing with tiny scales, that by a simple change in arrangement produce patterns beside which the most finished painting is a bungling daub? Why exist those microscopic wonders, (diatoms and infusoria,) formed with shells of purest flint, and of the quaintest devices? Why were these atomies, that tenant every roadside pool, which dance in the sunbeam, and float on the wings of the breeze? Why all the prodigal variety of strange forms crowding the sea, forms more wonderful than the poet’s wildest dreams ever pictured? Who can tell?
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
LONDONPRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO.NEW-STREET SQUARE
FOOTNOTES:[1]For full narrative of Apostolos Valerianos, see Samuel Purchase His Pilgrims.[2]Buckland’s Manual, ‘Salmon Hatching,’ page 24.[3]VideIllustration.[4]VideIllustration.[5]VideIllustration.
FOOTNOTES:
[1]For full narrative of Apostolos Valerianos, see Samuel Purchase His Pilgrims.
[2]Buckland’s Manual, ‘Salmon Hatching,’ page 24.
[3]VideIllustration.
[4]VideIllustration.
[5]VideIllustration.
Transcriber’s Notes:Blank pages have been removed.Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
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