Part 1—Chapter VI.

Part 1—Chapter VI.Rodents.The Beaver.Of all mammals, the beaver is the most especially fitted to enjoy a social life. When in captivity and away from its kind, it appears to possess but a small amount of intelligence; it forms no attachments to its human companions, and is utterly indifferent to all around it. But in its native wilds, associated with others of its race, what wondrous engineering skill it exhibits, and how curious are its domestic arrangements!It is essentially a hard worker. Other animals sport and play and amuse themselves. What young beavers may do inside their lodges, it is difficult to say; but the elders, from morn till night, and all night long, labour at their various occupations, evidently feeling that they were born to toil, and willingly accomplishing their destiny.The beaver has fitly been selected as the representative animal of Canada, on account of its industry, perseverance, and hardihood, and the resolute way in which it overcomes difficulties. Certain conditions of country are necessary to its existence, and when it does not find these ready formed, by a wonderful provision of Nature its instinct enables it to produce them by its own exertions. Where it can find rivers, brooks, and swampy lakes which maintain an even level throughout the year, the beaver has a tolerably idle life; but as in most districts the levels of rivers and lakes are apt to sink at various seasons if left to themselves,—whenever an emigrant party of beavers have fixed on a new locality, they set to work to dam up the stream or outlet of the lake, to prevent a catastrophe which might bring ruin and destruction on their new colony. In Nova Scotia, as well as in other parts of North America, large level spaces are found covered with a rich alluvial soil, from which spring up waving fields of wild grass. From this the human settler draws an abundant supply of hay for his stock in winter, and ought to feel deeply indebted to the persevering beaver for the boon. They are known as “wild meadows,” and are of frequent occurrence in the backwoods. It is evident that they were formed by the following process:—They are found in valleys through which, in ages past, a brook trickled. A party of beavers arriving, and finding an abundance of food on the side of the hills, would set to work to form a dam of sufficient strength to keep back the stream, till a pond was created, on the edge of which they might build their dome-shaped habitations. Extensive spaces in the woods were thus inundated, and the colony of beavers lived for long years on the banks of their artificial lakes. They, however, lacking forethought, like many human beings, did not sufficiently look to the future. In process of time the trees, being destroyed, decayed and fell; while the soil, washed down from the surrounding hills, filled up the pond constructed by the industrious animals, and they were compelled to migrate to some otherregion, or were destroyed. The dam being thus left unrepaired, the water drained through it, and the level space was converted into the rich meadow which has been described. Beavers’ houses, however, are seen in all directions, sometimes on the banks of these artificial ponds, at others by the sides of large lakes or rivers. Though varying in size, they all greatly resemble a huge bird’s-nest turned upside down. Some are eight feet in diameter, and three feet in height; while others are very much larger, being no less than sixteen to twenty feet in diameter, and nearly eight feet in height on the outside, and perfectly circular and dome-shaped. The walls and roofs of these lodges, as they are called, are several feet in thickness, so that the measurement of the interior chamber is little more than half that of the exterior. Several beavers inhabit a large lodge. Their beds, which are separated one from the other, are arranged round the walls, a space in the centre being left free. The exterior also presents a very rough appearance, consisting of sticks apparently thrown loosely together, and entirely denuded of their bark, as also of branches of trees and bushes closely interwoven and mixed with stones, gravel, or mud. They are close to the banks, almost overlapping the water, into which the front part is immersed. The bottom of the stream or lake is invariably deepened in the channel approaching the entrance, thus ensuring a free passage below the ice into the structure. The tunnel is from two to three feet long. In the inner part of the hut the materials are laid with greater care, and more firmly bound together—with mud and grass—than on the outer. Even in one of the larger houses the chamber—for there is but one—is only between two and three feet in height, though as much as nine feet in diameter. It slopes gently upwards from the water. Inside there are two levels: the lower one may be called the hall. On this the animals shake themselves when they emerge from the subaqueous tunnel; and when dry, clamber up to the upper story, which consists of an elevated bed of boughs running round the back of the chamber. It is thickly covered with dry grass and thin shavings of wood. The whole of the interior is smooth, the ends of the timbers and brushwood which project inwards being evenly gnawed off. There are always two entrances—the one serving for summer, and letting in the light; while another sinks down at a deeper angle, to enable the owners during winter to get below the water. Beavers are especially clean animals, and allow no rubbish to remain in their abode; and as soon as they have nibbled off the bark from the sticks, they carry them outside, and place them on the roof of their hut, to increase its thickness, or let them float down the stream.During the summer they are employed all day in ranging the banks and cutting provisions for their winter consumption, all their architectural occupations being carried on at night. Their winter stock of food consists of short lengths of willow and poplar,—the bark of which only, however, they eat. These they sink with mud or stones in some quiet pool near their lodge, and when required for food they dive down below the ice and bring up as many as are required for family consumption. Besides their lodge, they form in the neighbourhood a long burrow sufficiently broad to enable them to turn with ease. The entrance is at a considerable depth below the surface of the water, and extends from ten to twenty feet into the bank. This burrow serves as a safe retreat, should their house be broken into, and thither they immediately fly when their permanent abode is attacked. In summer they regale themselves on the roots of the yellow lilies, as well as on other succulent vegetation, and any fruits the country affords.But it is time that we should get a look at the curious animal itself. We may paddle gently in a birch-bark canoe over a calm lake, and conceal ourselves among the tall grass in some quiet cove where the yellow water-lilies float on the tranquil surface. Through the still air of evening, the sound of the distant waterfall reaches our ears. Wood ducks fly by in vast numbers; the rich glow of the evening sky, still suffused with the gorgeous hues of the setting sun, is reflected on the mirror-like expanse of water. Watching with eager eyes, we see at length the water breaking some forty yards away, and the head and back of an animal appears in sight. Now another, and then a third, come into view. After cautiously glancing around, the creatures dive, with a roll like that of a porpoise, but shortly appear again. Our Indian, pushing the light canoe from amid the grass, paddles forward with eager strokes. One of our party fires, and misses, the echoes resounding from the wood-covered shores, and from island to island, till lost in the distance; but the cautious animals, forewarned, take good care not to appear again during that evening. We find that our only prospect of examining them is by trapping one in the usual Indian fashion, which we will by-and-by describe.Mr Beaver, as the Indians are fond of calling the animal, has a body about three feet long, exclusive of the tail, which is a foot more. He wears on his back a coat of long shining hair, generally of a light chestnut colour, but sometimes of a much darker hue, occasionally perfectly black. Below the hair, next the skin, is a fine, soft, greyish-brown wool. He may be known at once by his broad horizontal flattened tail, which is nearly of an oval form, but rises into a slight convexity on its upper surface, and is covered with scales. His fore-feet are armed with nails, and serve for the purpose of hands—indeed,he vies with the monkey in the use he can make of them. The hind-feet are webbed, and with these—together with his tail, which acts as a rudder—he is enabled to swim rapidly through the water. The beaver is a rodent, with a short head and broad blunt snout, and his incisor teeth are remarkably large and hard, enabling him to bite through wood with wonderful ease and rapidity. So great is their hardness, that formerly the Indians were accustomed to use them as knives for cutting bone and fashioning their horn-tipped spears.The beaver, it has been said, always chooses banks by the side of a lake or river of sufficient depth to escape being frozen to the bottom, even during the hardest frost. Thus, he can at all times obtain a supply of water, on which his existence depends; indeed, the bark on which he lives requires to be moistened before it becomes fit for food. When instinct teaches a colony of beavers that the water is not of sufficient depth to escape freezing throughout, they provide against the evil by making such a dam as has been mentioned, across the stream, or the outlet of the lake, at a convenient distance from their habitations. The plan of these dams varies according to the character of the lake or stream. If the current is but slight, they build the dam almost straight; but where the water runs at a rapid rate, it is almost always constructed with a considerable curve, the convex side towards the stream. Frequently, in such cases, if there is any small island in the centre, it is taken advantage of, and the dam is built out to it from either bank. They make use of a variety of materials; employing driftwood when it can be obtained, to save themselves the trouble of cutting down trees. This they tow to the spot, and sink it horizontally with mud and stones. They also employ pieces of green willows, birch, and poplars, intermixing the whole with mud and gravel, in a manner which contributes greatly to the strength of the dam. They observe, however, no order or method in the work, placing their materials as they can obtain them, except that they make the dam maintain its regular sweep, and form all parts of equal strength. They carry the mud and stones in their fore-paws; and in one night will collect as much as amounts to many thousands of their little loads. When driftwood is not to be found, they obtain the timber they require from the groves skirting the lake or pond. To do this, they squat on their hams, and rapidly gnaw through the stems of trees from six to twelve or fourteen inches in diameter, with their powerful incisors. Sometimes a tree will not fall prostrate, the boughsbeing caught by its neighbours. But the beaver is not to be disappointed; he sets to work and gnaws away a little above the first place, thus giving it a fresh start, in order that the impetus may disengage it from the branches which keep it up. The tree being cut up, the beavers, uniting, tow the pieces down to the dam. They then plunge into the water and bring up the mud and small stones with which to keep it sunk. A long constructed dam, by being frequently repaired with fresh mud, becomes at length a solid bank, capable of resisting a heavy rush, either of water or ice; and as the willow, poplar, and birch generally take root and shoot up, they by degrees form a regularly planted hedge, which in some places becomes so tall that birds have been known to build their nests among the branches. These beaver dams also form bridges, over which two or three men may pass abreast, and lead their horses, without risk of breaking through. So rapidly do the members of the industrious community labour, that even the most serious damage to their dams, or habitations, is quickly repaired. They always carry the mud and stones in their fore-paws, pressed against their chins, but they drag the wood with their teeth.The creature does not employ its broad tail, as was once supposed, to plaster down its mud-work, nor does it use it as a vehicle for transporting materials; its sole object being to guide it when in the water, and as a counterpoise, by moving it in an upward direction, to the tendency it would otherwise have of sinking head-foremost. The creatures cover the outside of their houses every autumn with fresh mud as soon as the frost becomes severe. By this means it freezes as hard as stone, and prevents their common enemy, the wolverene, disturbing them during the winter. From the beaver being seen to flap its tail when moving over its work, but especially when about to plunge into the water, has arisen the idea that it uses this member as a trowel. This custom it preserves even when it becomes tame and domesticated, particularly when suddenly startled.The beaver, says Captain Hardy, travels a long distance from his house in search of materials, both for building and food. He mentions having seen the stumps of some trees which had been felled, at least three-quarters of a mile from the beaver lodges. Its towing power in the water, and that of traction on dry land, is astonishing. The following account shows the coolness and enterprise of the animals, described by a witness to the fact:—The narrator having constructed a raft for the purpose of poling round the edge of the lake to get at the houses of the beaver, which were built in a swampy savannah, otherwise inaccessible, it had been left in the evening moored at the edge of the lake, close to the camp, and about a quarter of a mile from the nearest beaver’s house, the poles lying on it. Next morning, on going down to the raft, the poles were missing; so, cutting fresh ones, he started with the Indians towards the beaver village. On reaching their abodes, one of the poles was found deposited on the top of the houses.In a community of beavers there are frequently some who appear to do no work, and are called by the Canadian trappersLes paresseux, or Idlers. They live apart from the rest, taking up their abodes in long tunnels, which they excavate. Several inhabit the same burrow; and being males, the idea is that they have been conquered in the combats which take place among the males when seeking their mates, and thus, like monks of old, have retired from the world,—or perhaps it may be only for a period, till they have regained sufficient courage and strength to sally forth, and commence a happier existence with the partner of their choice. They are far more careless of their safety than the other beavers, and are thus easily caught by the trappers.The body of the beaver contains a curious odoriferous substance, called by the trappers barkstone, but more scientifically “castor,” or “castoreum.” It is contained in two little bags about the size of a hen’s egg, and is of a brownish, unctuous consistency. At one time it was supposed to possess valuable medicinal properties. It is now, however, chiefly employed by perfumers. The beavers themselves are strangely attracted by this substance, and when scenting it at a distance will invariably make their way to it. It is said that the inhabitants of a particular lodge go forth, and having rid themselves of their superabundant castoreum at a little distance, return home; when the beavers of another lodge, scenting the castoreum, proceed to the same spot, and covering it over with a layer of earth and leaves, deposit their own castoreum upon the heap. After a time, the former beavers go through the same process; and this is continued until a mound of three or four feet in height has been raised. It is difficult to account for the object of this strange proceeding. It was not, however, till of late years that the sagacious Indians discovered that the castoreum was a certain bait for the animals themselves. Formerly, the bait they employed was a piece of green aspen, beaten up, and placed near the trap. At length an Indian tried whether a male might not be caught by adding some of the castoreum. By that time steel traps had been introduced, instead of the clumsy wooden traps before used. Not only were the males caught, but the females also; and the trappers were now able with their steel traps to catch vast numbers of the infatuated animals. It is said that the creatures, when perceiving the scent, will sit upright, snuffing about in every direction, and squealing with excitement. The younger animals, however, are those chiefly caught. The old ones are often too cunning; and it is affirmed that, instead of touching the bait, they will cover up the trap with mud and stones till a mound has been raised, and then, depositing their superabundant castoreum upon it, take their departure.We must conclude our account by again quoting Captain Hardy. Of the infatuation of this animal for castoreum he saw several instances. “A trap was fastened by its steel chain to a stake, to prevent the beaver, when caught, taking it away. It slipped, however, and the beaver swam away with the trap, and it was looked upon as lost. Two nights afterwards he was again taken in a trap, with the other fast on his thigh. Another time a beaver, passing over a trap to get the castoreum, had his hind-leg broken. With his teeth he cut the broken leg off, and went away. It was supposed that he would not come again; but two nights afterwards he was found fast in a trap—in each case tempted by the castoreum. The stake was always licked, or sucked, clean. The substance seems to act as a soporific, as the creatures, after tasting it, always remain a day without coming out of their houses. So wary generally are the beavers, that a trapper is always careful not to leave his scent on the spot. To avoid this he frequently cuts down a tree, and walks on its branches towards the edge of the path, afterwards withdrawing it, and plentifully sprinkling water around.”The Indians and Canadian voyageurs eat the flesh of the beaver, esteeming it, when roasted with the skin on—the hair having been singed off—the most dainty of dishes. Early in this century, when beaver fur was much in demand for the manufacture of hats, upwards of 120,000 skins were exported from Quebec alone in one year. The warfare long waged against the unfortunate rodents now goes on with somewhat diminished activity. A change of fashion—the substitution of silk for beaver—has probably saved them from utter extermination. The scientific name of their tribe,Castor, was long a popular term for a hat; but now that their fur has ceased to be employed as formerly, the term itself appears to have gone out of use.The Musk-Rat, or Musquash.Voyaging along the margin of a lake, we may see on the shores numbers of little flattened oval nests composed of reeds and sedges, while numerous holes in the bank, with quantities of shells, chiefly of the fresh-water mussel, scattered round, show the entrance to the habitations of the musquash, or ondatra, called also the musk-rat. As evening approaches, the creatures may be seen in fine balmy weather gambolling on the surface, swimming rapidly here and there, or now and then diving below, apparently fearless of the passing canoe. The little sedge-built hut of the water-rat is constructed much in the same way as the beaver’s larger mansion. The creature itself looks somewhat like the beaver, and some of its habits are also similar. It is rather more than two feet in total length, of which measurement about ten inches is occupied by the tail. The upper part of the body is of a dark brown colour, tinged in parts with a reddish hue, while the lower part is ashy grey. Its tail is flattened, but vertical. Like the beaver, it is furnished with an undercoat of soft downy fur. Its safety has been provided for by its peculiar colour, which is so like that of the muddy bank on which it dwells, that a keen eye can alone detect it. Its hinder feet are webbed, the imprint on the soft mud being very similar to that of a duck. With the exception of the flesh of the water-mussel, its food is vegetable. It is a great depredator in gardens, which it has been known to plunder of carrots, turnips, and maize—the stalks of which it cuts close down to the ground.It is sought-for on account of its fur, which is very valuable. The traps are set close to a tree, and when one of the creatures is caught, its companions will instantly attack it and tear it to pieces. Generally, however, in its struggles to get free, it carries the trap under the surface, and is thus drowned.Audubon, the naturalist, gives us an interesting description of them:—“They are very lively, playful animals, when in their proper element—the water—and on a calm night, in a sequestered pool, may often be seen crossing and recrossing in every direction, leaving long ripples in the water behind them, while others stand for a few moments on tufts of grass, stones, or logs, and then plunge over, one after the other, into the water. At the same time others are feeding on the grassy bank, dragging off the roots of various kinds of plants, or digging underneath the edge. These animals seem to form a little community of social playful creatures, who only require to be unmolested in order to be happy.”It has been proposed to acclimatise these little rodents in England, under the idea that thus a valuable addition to the bank fauna of sluggish English streams would be obtained.Prairie-Dogs.Vast cities, with regularly laid streets, are often met with in extensive level spots on the prairie. The inhabitants are, however, not men, but creatures the size of a guinea-pig—rodents—a species of marmot. In their habit of associating together in communities, they put us in mind of the industrious beaver; but they are idle little fellows, evidently liking play better than work. Their heads are not unlike those of young terrier-pups, and their bodies are of a light brown colour. They have little stumpy tails, which, when excited, they constantly jerk up and twist about in a curious fashion. Their habitations are regular cones raised two or three feet above the ground, with a hole in the apex, which is vertical for the depth of two or three feet, and then descends obliquely into the interior. From the peculiar yelp or short squeaky bark which they give, the hunters call them prairie-dogs.In each separate community, which consists of many thousand individuals, there is a president dog, who seems to have especial charge of the rest. As a stranger approaches, thecreatures who are out of their houses scamper back as fast as their legs will carry them, and concealing all but their heads and tails, utter loud barks at the intruder. This done, the greater number dive out of sight with a curious somersault, their little tails whisking in the air. The chief dog, and perhaps two or three other sentinels with him, remain on the tops of their houses barking lustily till the enemy gets within a few paces of them, when they also disappear, and the town remains silent and deserted. The traveller who wishes to observe their habits, by lying concealed and silent for a few minutes, may see after a time some little fellow pop his head out of his house, when he gives a few barks. It serves as a signal to the rest that danger has disappeared, and immediately the others emerge from their houses and begin to frisk about as usual.The holes of these curious creatures are shared by two very different species of guests, one of which, at all events, must prove most, unwelcome. One of these is a little owl, which may be seen sitting in front of the burrows or flying about near the ground; or, when the sun sinks low, hopping through the town, and picking up the lizards and chameleons which everywhere abound. He can apparently do no harm to the inhabitants, if he fails to benefit them. The other inmates are rattlesnakes, who, regardless of any objections which may be raised by the dogs, take possession of their holes, and when the sun shines lie coiled up at their sides, now and then erecting their treacherous heads and rattling an angry note of warning, should a thoughtless pup by any chance approach too near. The Indians suppose that all three creatures live on the most friendly footing; but as the rattlesnakes when killed have frequently been found with the bodies of the little prairie-dogs in their insides, their object in establishing themselves in the locality seems very evident.The poor little dog, indeed, leads a life of constant alarm, with numerous enemies ever on the watch to surprise him. Hawks and eagles, hovering high in air, often pounce down and carry off unfortunate members of the community in their powerful talons. The savage cayote, or prairie-wolf, when pressed by hunger during the winter, frequently attacks the dome-shaped habitation of the little animal, and with claws and teeth tears to pieces the walls, plunging his nose into the passage which he has opened, and working his way down till he seizes the trembling little inmate, who in vain retreats to the inmost recesses of his abode.It has been supposed that the prairie-dog hibernates; but this is not the case, though he lays in a store of provision for winter consumption—he being as lively at that period as at any other, though he wisely prefers keeping within the house while the icy blasts blow across the plains. The creature is especially tenacious of life, and even when shot through the body will manage to gain his burrow at rapid speed. He does not run into it, but, like the rabbit, he makes a jump in the air, turns what looks like a somersault, and, flourishing his hind-legs and whisking his tail, disappears as if by magic. In an instant afterwards, however, his little sparkling eyes and nose may be seen above the ground; and if no stranger is in sight, he, with the rest of the community, will commence gambolling and frisking about, forgetful of his numerous foes and previous alarm. It is very difficult to obtain a specimen of the prairie-dog, as, even if mortally wounded, he generally tumbles into his hole before being captured. The inhabitants of the plain, however, manage to catch the animal alive by dragging a cask of water to one of their holes which does not communicate with the rest of the village. They then pour the water down the hole, either drowning the creature or compelling him to come out. He is very soon reconciled to a state of captivity, and after two days appears on the most intimate terms with his captors. Even when turned loose again the creatures will not leave the neighbourhood of the house, but burrow under the foundation, making themselves quite at home, and fearlessly come out to be fed when summoned by a whistle. They become, indeed, very interesting and pretty little pets.We shall meet with a similar animal on the pampas of South America, and which has also the companionship of a little owl.There are several other species of marmot in America. One is called the Quebec Marmot, which lives a solitary life, making an almost perpendicular burrow in dry ground at a distance from water.The beautiful little, often-tamed Woodchuck, is another American marmot. It makes a deep burrow in the sides of hills, lining the chamber at the inner end with dry leaves and grass. It may frequently be seen by the traveller running rapidly along the tops of fences, as if to keep company with him—now getting ahead, then stopping and looking back to see if he is coming, and then going on again, till, growing tired of the amusement, it gives a last stare and then scampers back the way it has come.The Porcupine.Unattractive as the fretful porcupine appears when considered as a means of satisfying man’s hunger, it is hunted throughout North America for the sake of its flesh, which forms an especially dainty dish, not only in the opinion of the Indians, but in that of every European who has partaken of it. The creature dwells in small caverns, either under a pile of boulders, or amid the roots of large trees; but it also, with its sharp claws, easily climbs up the trunks, and may sometimes be seen reposing on their very summits, where it feeds on the bark of the young branches, or the berries when they become ripe.The Canadian porcupine is also known as the cawquaw or urson. It is nearly four feet long altogether, the head and body measuring upwards of three feet, while the tail is about three inches in length. It is less completely defended with spines than the porcupines of other countries—part of itsbody being covered with long, coarse brown hair, which almost conceals the deeply-set, short, pointed quills, except those on the head, hind-quarters, and tail. The spines are about three inches long. When the animal is brought to bay, it sets them up in a fan-like shape, and presents a formidable row of points turned towards its opponent. When attacked, it defends itself with its thick, muscular tail; and wherever it strikes, it leaves a number of its easily-detached quills, with barbed points, sticking firmly in its opponent’s body. These spines are of a dull white colour, the points being dark. Awkward as the porcupine looks, it can gallop along at considerable speed; and when surprised, generally escapes to its rocky den—or if it gains a tree, scrambles up the trunk at a rapid rate. A broad trail leads to the porcupine’s den, by which it is easily discovered, as also by the ordure outside the entrance. A number of these paths lead from the den to its feeding-ground: in the autumn to a beech grove, on the mast or nuts of which it revels; and in the winter-time, to some tall hemlock or spruce trees. The Indian hunter also discovers it by the marks of its claws on the bark; and should he be unfortunate in his search for larger game, he seldom fails to obtain a roast of porcupine. The creature is hunted by the Indians with little dogs, which seem to take great delight in the sport, and, in spite of the formidable weapons of their opponents, will rush in and draw them out of their dens without injury to themselves. Even the settlers’ dogs exhibitthe same strong fancy for hunting porcupines, but are not so successful in coming off without injury; indeed, they often issue from the combat covered over with spines sticking in their flesh.Captain Hardy gives us an anecdote of the extraordinary fancy the Indian dogs have for hunting porcupines. One of these dogs was quite blind; and yet, if the porcupine “treed,” the little animal would sit down beneath, occasionally barking to inform his master where lodged the fretful one. Another dog was not to be beaten when once on a porcupine. If the animal was in its den, in he went, and, if possible, would haul it out by the tail; if not strong enough, his master would fasten a handkerchief round his middle, and attach to it a long twisted withe. The dog would go in, and presently, between the two, out would come the porcupine.By the end of the “fall,” the animal becomes loaded with fat, from feeding on the berries found in the “barrens.” Its cry is a plaintive, whining sound, not very dissimilar to that of a calf moose. The female produces two at a birth early in the spring. The porcupine can easily be tamed; and Audubon mentions one which was so entirely domesticated, that it would come voluntarily to its master, and take fruit or vegetables out of his hand, rubbing against him as does an affectionate cat. The same animal, however, showed considerable courage. On one occasion it was attacked by a ferocious mastiff. One morning the dog was seen making a dash at some object in the corner of the fence. This proved to be the tame porcupine, which had escaped from its cage. The dog seemed regardless of all its threats, and probably supposing it to be an animal not more formidable than a cat, sprang at it with open mouth. The porcupine seemed to swell up, in an instant, to nearly double its size; and as the dog sprang upon it, dealt him such a sidewise blow with the tail, as to cause the mastiff to relinquish his hold instantly, and set up a howl of pain. His mouth and nose were full of quills. He could not close his jaws, but hurried, open-mouthed, off the premises. Although the servants instantly extracted the spines from the mouth of the dog, his head was terribly pierced, and it was several weeks before he recovered. The porcupine, however, suffered severely from the combat; and as the hot weather came on, showed great signs of distress, and finally died of heat.The quills of the porcupine are brilliantly stained by the Indians with a variety of colours, and are extensively used by their squaws in ornamenting with fanciful patterns the birch-bark ware which they sell to the white settlers.

Of all mammals, the beaver is the most especially fitted to enjoy a social life. When in captivity and away from its kind, it appears to possess but a small amount of intelligence; it forms no attachments to its human companions, and is utterly indifferent to all around it. But in its native wilds, associated with others of its race, what wondrous engineering skill it exhibits, and how curious are its domestic arrangements!

It is essentially a hard worker. Other animals sport and play and amuse themselves. What young beavers may do inside their lodges, it is difficult to say; but the elders, from morn till night, and all night long, labour at their various occupations, evidently feeling that they were born to toil, and willingly accomplishing their destiny.

The beaver has fitly been selected as the representative animal of Canada, on account of its industry, perseverance, and hardihood, and the resolute way in which it overcomes difficulties. Certain conditions of country are necessary to its existence, and when it does not find these ready formed, by a wonderful provision of Nature its instinct enables it to produce them by its own exertions. Where it can find rivers, brooks, and swampy lakes which maintain an even level throughout the year, the beaver has a tolerably idle life; but as in most districts the levels of rivers and lakes are apt to sink at various seasons if left to themselves,—whenever an emigrant party of beavers have fixed on a new locality, they set to work to dam up the stream or outlet of the lake, to prevent a catastrophe which might bring ruin and destruction on their new colony. In Nova Scotia, as well as in other parts of North America, large level spaces are found covered with a rich alluvial soil, from which spring up waving fields of wild grass. From this the human settler draws an abundant supply of hay for his stock in winter, and ought to feel deeply indebted to the persevering beaver for the boon. They are known as “wild meadows,” and are of frequent occurrence in the backwoods. It is evident that they were formed by the following process:—They are found in valleys through which, in ages past, a brook trickled. A party of beavers arriving, and finding an abundance of food on the side of the hills, would set to work to form a dam of sufficient strength to keep back the stream, till a pond was created, on the edge of which they might build their dome-shaped habitations. Extensive spaces in the woods were thus inundated, and the colony of beavers lived for long years on the banks of their artificial lakes. They, however, lacking forethought, like many human beings, did not sufficiently look to the future. In process of time the trees, being destroyed, decayed and fell; while the soil, washed down from the surrounding hills, filled up the pond constructed by the industrious animals, and they were compelled to migrate to some otherregion, or were destroyed. The dam being thus left unrepaired, the water drained through it, and the level space was converted into the rich meadow which has been described. Beavers’ houses, however, are seen in all directions, sometimes on the banks of these artificial ponds, at others by the sides of large lakes or rivers. Though varying in size, they all greatly resemble a huge bird’s-nest turned upside down. Some are eight feet in diameter, and three feet in height; while others are very much larger, being no less than sixteen to twenty feet in diameter, and nearly eight feet in height on the outside, and perfectly circular and dome-shaped. The walls and roofs of these lodges, as they are called, are several feet in thickness, so that the measurement of the interior chamber is little more than half that of the exterior. Several beavers inhabit a large lodge. Their beds, which are separated one from the other, are arranged round the walls, a space in the centre being left free. The exterior also presents a very rough appearance, consisting of sticks apparently thrown loosely together, and entirely denuded of their bark, as also of branches of trees and bushes closely interwoven and mixed with stones, gravel, or mud. They are close to the banks, almost overlapping the water, into which the front part is immersed. The bottom of the stream or lake is invariably deepened in the channel approaching the entrance, thus ensuring a free passage below the ice into the structure. The tunnel is from two to three feet long. In the inner part of the hut the materials are laid with greater care, and more firmly bound together—with mud and grass—than on the outer. Even in one of the larger houses the chamber—for there is but one—is only between two and three feet in height, though as much as nine feet in diameter. It slopes gently upwards from the water. Inside there are two levels: the lower one may be called the hall. On this the animals shake themselves when they emerge from the subaqueous tunnel; and when dry, clamber up to the upper story, which consists of an elevated bed of boughs running round the back of the chamber. It is thickly covered with dry grass and thin shavings of wood. The whole of the interior is smooth, the ends of the timbers and brushwood which project inwards being evenly gnawed off. There are always two entrances—the one serving for summer, and letting in the light; while another sinks down at a deeper angle, to enable the owners during winter to get below the water. Beavers are especially clean animals, and allow no rubbish to remain in their abode; and as soon as they have nibbled off the bark from the sticks, they carry them outside, and place them on the roof of their hut, to increase its thickness, or let them float down the stream.

During the summer they are employed all day in ranging the banks and cutting provisions for their winter consumption, all their architectural occupations being carried on at night. Their winter stock of food consists of short lengths of willow and poplar,—the bark of which only, however, they eat. These they sink with mud or stones in some quiet pool near their lodge, and when required for food they dive down below the ice and bring up as many as are required for family consumption. Besides their lodge, they form in the neighbourhood a long burrow sufficiently broad to enable them to turn with ease. The entrance is at a considerable depth below the surface of the water, and extends from ten to twenty feet into the bank. This burrow serves as a safe retreat, should their house be broken into, and thither they immediately fly when their permanent abode is attacked. In summer they regale themselves on the roots of the yellow lilies, as well as on other succulent vegetation, and any fruits the country affords.

But it is time that we should get a look at the curious animal itself. We may paddle gently in a birch-bark canoe over a calm lake, and conceal ourselves among the tall grass in some quiet cove where the yellow water-lilies float on the tranquil surface. Through the still air of evening, the sound of the distant waterfall reaches our ears. Wood ducks fly by in vast numbers; the rich glow of the evening sky, still suffused with the gorgeous hues of the setting sun, is reflected on the mirror-like expanse of water. Watching with eager eyes, we see at length the water breaking some forty yards away, and the head and back of an animal appears in sight. Now another, and then a third, come into view. After cautiously glancing around, the creatures dive, with a roll like that of a porpoise, but shortly appear again. Our Indian, pushing the light canoe from amid the grass, paddles forward with eager strokes. One of our party fires, and misses, the echoes resounding from the wood-covered shores, and from island to island, till lost in the distance; but the cautious animals, forewarned, take good care not to appear again during that evening. We find that our only prospect of examining them is by trapping one in the usual Indian fashion, which we will by-and-by describe.

Mr Beaver, as the Indians are fond of calling the animal, has a body about three feet long, exclusive of the tail, which is a foot more. He wears on his back a coat of long shining hair, generally of a light chestnut colour, but sometimes of a much darker hue, occasionally perfectly black. Below the hair, next the skin, is a fine, soft, greyish-brown wool. He may be known at once by his broad horizontal flattened tail, which is nearly of an oval form, but rises into a slight convexity on its upper surface, and is covered with scales. His fore-feet are armed with nails, and serve for the purpose of hands—indeed,he vies with the monkey in the use he can make of them. The hind-feet are webbed, and with these—together with his tail, which acts as a rudder—he is enabled to swim rapidly through the water. The beaver is a rodent, with a short head and broad blunt snout, and his incisor teeth are remarkably large and hard, enabling him to bite through wood with wonderful ease and rapidity. So great is their hardness, that formerly the Indians were accustomed to use them as knives for cutting bone and fashioning their horn-tipped spears.

The beaver, it has been said, always chooses banks by the side of a lake or river of sufficient depth to escape being frozen to the bottom, even during the hardest frost. Thus, he can at all times obtain a supply of water, on which his existence depends; indeed, the bark on which he lives requires to be moistened before it becomes fit for food. When instinct teaches a colony of beavers that the water is not of sufficient depth to escape freezing throughout, they provide against the evil by making such a dam as has been mentioned, across the stream, or the outlet of the lake, at a convenient distance from their habitations. The plan of these dams varies according to the character of the lake or stream. If the current is but slight, they build the dam almost straight; but where the water runs at a rapid rate, it is almost always constructed with a considerable curve, the convex side towards the stream. Frequently, in such cases, if there is any small island in the centre, it is taken advantage of, and the dam is built out to it from either bank. They make use of a variety of materials; employing driftwood when it can be obtained, to save themselves the trouble of cutting down trees. This they tow to the spot, and sink it horizontally with mud and stones. They also employ pieces of green willows, birch, and poplars, intermixing the whole with mud and gravel, in a manner which contributes greatly to the strength of the dam. They observe, however, no order or method in the work, placing their materials as they can obtain them, except that they make the dam maintain its regular sweep, and form all parts of equal strength. They carry the mud and stones in their fore-paws; and in one night will collect as much as amounts to many thousands of their little loads. When driftwood is not to be found, they obtain the timber they require from the groves skirting the lake or pond. To do this, they squat on their hams, and rapidly gnaw through the stems of trees from six to twelve or fourteen inches in diameter, with their powerful incisors. Sometimes a tree will not fall prostrate, the boughsbeing caught by its neighbours. But the beaver is not to be disappointed; he sets to work and gnaws away a little above the first place, thus giving it a fresh start, in order that the impetus may disengage it from the branches which keep it up. The tree being cut up, the beavers, uniting, tow the pieces down to the dam. They then plunge into the water and bring up the mud and small stones with which to keep it sunk. A long constructed dam, by being frequently repaired with fresh mud, becomes at length a solid bank, capable of resisting a heavy rush, either of water or ice; and as the willow, poplar, and birch generally take root and shoot up, they by degrees form a regularly planted hedge, which in some places becomes so tall that birds have been known to build their nests among the branches. These beaver dams also form bridges, over which two or three men may pass abreast, and lead their horses, without risk of breaking through. So rapidly do the members of the industrious community labour, that even the most serious damage to their dams, or habitations, is quickly repaired. They always carry the mud and stones in their fore-paws, pressed against their chins, but they drag the wood with their teeth.

The creature does not employ its broad tail, as was once supposed, to plaster down its mud-work, nor does it use it as a vehicle for transporting materials; its sole object being to guide it when in the water, and as a counterpoise, by moving it in an upward direction, to the tendency it would otherwise have of sinking head-foremost. The creatures cover the outside of their houses every autumn with fresh mud as soon as the frost becomes severe. By this means it freezes as hard as stone, and prevents their common enemy, the wolverene, disturbing them during the winter. From the beaver being seen to flap its tail when moving over its work, but especially when about to plunge into the water, has arisen the idea that it uses this member as a trowel. This custom it preserves even when it becomes tame and domesticated, particularly when suddenly startled.

The beaver, says Captain Hardy, travels a long distance from his house in search of materials, both for building and food. He mentions having seen the stumps of some trees which had been felled, at least three-quarters of a mile from the beaver lodges. Its towing power in the water, and that of traction on dry land, is astonishing. The following account shows the coolness and enterprise of the animals, described by a witness to the fact:—The narrator having constructed a raft for the purpose of poling round the edge of the lake to get at the houses of the beaver, which were built in a swampy savannah, otherwise inaccessible, it had been left in the evening moored at the edge of the lake, close to the camp, and about a quarter of a mile from the nearest beaver’s house, the poles lying on it. Next morning, on going down to the raft, the poles were missing; so, cutting fresh ones, he started with the Indians towards the beaver village. On reaching their abodes, one of the poles was found deposited on the top of the houses.

In a community of beavers there are frequently some who appear to do no work, and are called by the Canadian trappersLes paresseux, or Idlers. They live apart from the rest, taking up their abodes in long tunnels, which they excavate. Several inhabit the same burrow; and being males, the idea is that they have been conquered in the combats which take place among the males when seeking their mates, and thus, like monks of old, have retired from the world,—or perhaps it may be only for a period, till they have regained sufficient courage and strength to sally forth, and commence a happier existence with the partner of their choice. They are far more careless of their safety than the other beavers, and are thus easily caught by the trappers.

The body of the beaver contains a curious odoriferous substance, called by the trappers barkstone, but more scientifically “castor,” or “castoreum.” It is contained in two little bags about the size of a hen’s egg, and is of a brownish, unctuous consistency. At one time it was supposed to possess valuable medicinal properties. It is now, however, chiefly employed by perfumers. The beavers themselves are strangely attracted by this substance, and when scenting it at a distance will invariably make their way to it. It is said that the inhabitants of a particular lodge go forth, and having rid themselves of their superabundant castoreum at a little distance, return home; when the beavers of another lodge, scenting the castoreum, proceed to the same spot, and covering it over with a layer of earth and leaves, deposit their own castoreum upon the heap. After a time, the former beavers go through the same process; and this is continued until a mound of three or four feet in height has been raised. It is difficult to account for the object of this strange proceeding. It was not, however, till of late years that the sagacious Indians discovered that the castoreum was a certain bait for the animals themselves. Formerly, the bait they employed was a piece of green aspen, beaten up, and placed near the trap. At length an Indian tried whether a male might not be caught by adding some of the castoreum. By that time steel traps had been introduced, instead of the clumsy wooden traps before used. Not only were the males caught, but the females also; and the trappers were now able with their steel traps to catch vast numbers of the infatuated animals. It is said that the creatures, when perceiving the scent, will sit upright, snuffing about in every direction, and squealing with excitement. The younger animals, however, are those chiefly caught. The old ones are often too cunning; and it is affirmed that, instead of touching the bait, they will cover up the trap with mud and stones till a mound has been raised, and then, depositing their superabundant castoreum upon it, take their departure.

We must conclude our account by again quoting Captain Hardy. Of the infatuation of this animal for castoreum he saw several instances. “A trap was fastened by its steel chain to a stake, to prevent the beaver, when caught, taking it away. It slipped, however, and the beaver swam away with the trap, and it was looked upon as lost. Two nights afterwards he was again taken in a trap, with the other fast on his thigh. Another time a beaver, passing over a trap to get the castoreum, had his hind-leg broken. With his teeth he cut the broken leg off, and went away. It was supposed that he would not come again; but two nights afterwards he was found fast in a trap—in each case tempted by the castoreum. The stake was always licked, or sucked, clean. The substance seems to act as a soporific, as the creatures, after tasting it, always remain a day without coming out of their houses. So wary generally are the beavers, that a trapper is always careful not to leave his scent on the spot. To avoid this he frequently cuts down a tree, and walks on its branches towards the edge of the path, afterwards withdrawing it, and plentifully sprinkling water around.”

The Indians and Canadian voyageurs eat the flesh of the beaver, esteeming it, when roasted with the skin on—the hair having been singed off—the most dainty of dishes. Early in this century, when beaver fur was much in demand for the manufacture of hats, upwards of 120,000 skins were exported from Quebec alone in one year. The warfare long waged against the unfortunate rodents now goes on with somewhat diminished activity. A change of fashion—the substitution of silk for beaver—has probably saved them from utter extermination. The scientific name of their tribe,Castor, was long a popular term for a hat; but now that their fur has ceased to be employed as formerly, the term itself appears to have gone out of use.

Voyaging along the margin of a lake, we may see on the shores numbers of little flattened oval nests composed of reeds and sedges, while numerous holes in the bank, with quantities of shells, chiefly of the fresh-water mussel, scattered round, show the entrance to the habitations of the musquash, or ondatra, called also the musk-rat. As evening approaches, the creatures may be seen in fine balmy weather gambolling on the surface, swimming rapidly here and there, or now and then diving below, apparently fearless of the passing canoe. The little sedge-built hut of the water-rat is constructed much in the same way as the beaver’s larger mansion. The creature itself looks somewhat like the beaver, and some of its habits are also similar. It is rather more than two feet in total length, of which measurement about ten inches is occupied by the tail. The upper part of the body is of a dark brown colour, tinged in parts with a reddish hue, while the lower part is ashy grey. Its tail is flattened, but vertical. Like the beaver, it is furnished with an undercoat of soft downy fur. Its safety has been provided for by its peculiar colour, which is so like that of the muddy bank on which it dwells, that a keen eye can alone detect it. Its hinder feet are webbed, the imprint on the soft mud being very similar to that of a duck. With the exception of the flesh of the water-mussel, its food is vegetable. It is a great depredator in gardens, which it has been known to plunder of carrots, turnips, and maize—the stalks of which it cuts close down to the ground.

It is sought-for on account of its fur, which is very valuable. The traps are set close to a tree, and when one of the creatures is caught, its companions will instantly attack it and tear it to pieces. Generally, however, in its struggles to get free, it carries the trap under the surface, and is thus drowned.

Audubon, the naturalist, gives us an interesting description of them:—“They are very lively, playful animals, when in their proper element—the water—and on a calm night, in a sequestered pool, may often be seen crossing and recrossing in every direction, leaving long ripples in the water behind them, while others stand for a few moments on tufts of grass, stones, or logs, and then plunge over, one after the other, into the water. At the same time others are feeding on the grassy bank, dragging off the roots of various kinds of plants, or digging underneath the edge. These animals seem to form a little community of social playful creatures, who only require to be unmolested in order to be happy.”

It has been proposed to acclimatise these little rodents in England, under the idea that thus a valuable addition to the bank fauna of sluggish English streams would be obtained.

Vast cities, with regularly laid streets, are often met with in extensive level spots on the prairie. The inhabitants are, however, not men, but creatures the size of a guinea-pig—rodents—a species of marmot. In their habit of associating together in communities, they put us in mind of the industrious beaver; but they are idle little fellows, evidently liking play better than work. Their heads are not unlike those of young terrier-pups, and their bodies are of a light brown colour. They have little stumpy tails, which, when excited, they constantly jerk up and twist about in a curious fashion. Their habitations are regular cones raised two or three feet above the ground, with a hole in the apex, which is vertical for the depth of two or three feet, and then descends obliquely into the interior. From the peculiar yelp or short squeaky bark which they give, the hunters call them prairie-dogs.

In each separate community, which consists of many thousand individuals, there is a president dog, who seems to have especial charge of the rest. As a stranger approaches, thecreatures who are out of their houses scamper back as fast as their legs will carry them, and concealing all but their heads and tails, utter loud barks at the intruder. This done, the greater number dive out of sight with a curious somersault, their little tails whisking in the air. The chief dog, and perhaps two or three other sentinels with him, remain on the tops of their houses barking lustily till the enemy gets within a few paces of them, when they also disappear, and the town remains silent and deserted. The traveller who wishes to observe their habits, by lying concealed and silent for a few minutes, may see after a time some little fellow pop his head out of his house, when he gives a few barks. It serves as a signal to the rest that danger has disappeared, and immediately the others emerge from their houses and begin to frisk about as usual.

The holes of these curious creatures are shared by two very different species of guests, one of which, at all events, must prove most, unwelcome. One of these is a little owl, which may be seen sitting in front of the burrows or flying about near the ground; or, when the sun sinks low, hopping through the town, and picking up the lizards and chameleons which everywhere abound. He can apparently do no harm to the inhabitants, if he fails to benefit them. The other inmates are rattlesnakes, who, regardless of any objections which may be raised by the dogs, take possession of their holes, and when the sun shines lie coiled up at their sides, now and then erecting their treacherous heads and rattling an angry note of warning, should a thoughtless pup by any chance approach too near. The Indians suppose that all three creatures live on the most friendly footing; but as the rattlesnakes when killed have frequently been found with the bodies of the little prairie-dogs in their insides, their object in establishing themselves in the locality seems very evident.

The poor little dog, indeed, leads a life of constant alarm, with numerous enemies ever on the watch to surprise him. Hawks and eagles, hovering high in air, often pounce down and carry off unfortunate members of the community in their powerful talons. The savage cayote, or prairie-wolf, when pressed by hunger during the winter, frequently attacks the dome-shaped habitation of the little animal, and with claws and teeth tears to pieces the walls, plunging his nose into the passage which he has opened, and working his way down till he seizes the trembling little inmate, who in vain retreats to the inmost recesses of his abode.

It has been supposed that the prairie-dog hibernates; but this is not the case, though he lays in a store of provision for winter consumption—he being as lively at that period as at any other, though he wisely prefers keeping within the house while the icy blasts blow across the plains. The creature is especially tenacious of life, and even when shot through the body will manage to gain his burrow at rapid speed. He does not run into it, but, like the rabbit, he makes a jump in the air, turns what looks like a somersault, and, flourishing his hind-legs and whisking his tail, disappears as if by magic. In an instant afterwards, however, his little sparkling eyes and nose may be seen above the ground; and if no stranger is in sight, he, with the rest of the community, will commence gambolling and frisking about, forgetful of his numerous foes and previous alarm. It is very difficult to obtain a specimen of the prairie-dog, as, even if mortally wounded, he generally tumbles into his hole before being captured. The inhabitants of the plain, however, manage to catch the animal alive by dragging a cask of water to one of their holes which does not communicate with the rest of the village. They then pour the water down the hole, either drowning the creature or compelling him to come out. He is very soon reconciled to a state of captivity, and after two days appears on the most intimate terms with his captors. Even when turned loose again the creatures will not leave the neighbourhood of the house, but burrow under the foundation, making themselves quite at home, and fearlessly come out to be fed when summoned by a whistle. They become, indeed, very interesting and pretty little pets.

We shall meet with a similar animal on the pampas of South America, and which has also the companionship of a little owl.

There are several other species of marmot in America. One is called the Quebec Marmot, which lives a solitary life, making an almost perpendicular burrow in dry ground at a distance from water.

The beautiful little, often-tamed Woodchuck, is another American marmot. It makes a deep burrow in the sides of hills, lining the chamber at the inner end with dry leaves and grass. It may frequently be seen by the traveller running rapidly along the tops of fences, as if to keep company with him—now getting ahead, then stopping and looking back to see if he is coming, and then going on again, till, growing tired of the amusement, it gives a last stare and then scampers back the way it has come.

Unattractive as the fretful porcupine appears when considered as a means of satisfying man’s hunger, it is hunted throughout North America for the sake of its flesh, which forms an especially dainty dish, not only in the opinion of the Indians, but in that of every European who has partaken of it. The creature dwells in small caverns, either under a pile of boulders, or amid the roots of large trees; but it also, with its sharp claws, easily climbs up the trunks, and may sometimes be seen reposing on their very summits, where it feeds on the bark of the young branches, or the berries when they become ripe.

The Canadian porcupine is also known as the cawquaw or urson. It is nearly four feet long altogether, the head and body measuring upwards of three feet, while the tail is about three inches in length. It is less completely defended with spines than the porcupines of other countries—part of itsbody being covered with long, coarse brown hair, which almost conceals the deeply-set, short, pointed quills, except those on the head, hind-quarters, and tail. The spines are about three inches long. When the animal is brought to bay, it sets them up in a fan-like shape, and presents a formidable row of points turned towards its opponent. When attacked, it defends itself with its thick, muscular tail; and wherever it strikes, it leaves a number of its easily-detached quills, with barbed points, sticking firmly in its opponent’s body. These spines are of a dull white colour, the points being dark. Awkward as the porcupine looks, it can gallop along at considerable speed; and when surprised, generally escapes to its rocky den—or if it gains a tree, scrambles up the trunk at a rapid rate. A broad trail leads to the porcupine’s den, by which it is easily discovered, as also by the ordure outside the entrance. A number of these paths lead from the den to its feeding-ground: in the autumn to a beech grove, on the mast or nuts of which it revels; and in the winter-time, to some tall hemlock or spruce trees. The Indian hunter also discovers it by the marks of its claws on the bark; and should he be unfortunate in his search for larger game, he seldom fails to obtain a roast of porcupine. The creature is hunted by the Indians with little dogs, which seem to take great delight in the sport, and, in spite of the formidable weapons of their opponents, will rush in and draw them out of their dens without injury to themselves. Even the settlers’ dogs exhibitthe same strong fancy for hunting porcupines, but are not so successful in coming off without injury; indeed, they often issue from the combat covered over with spines sticking in their flesh.

Captain Hardy gives us an anecdote of the extraordinary fancy the Indian dogs have for hunting porcupines. One of these dogs was quite blind; and yet, if the porcupine “treed,” the little animal would sit down beneath, occasionally barking to inform his master where lodged the fretful one. Another dog was not to be beaten when once on a porcupine. If the animal was in its den, in he went, and, if possible, would haul it out by the tail; if not strong enough, his master would fasten a handkerchief round his middle, and attach to it a long twisted withe. The dog would go in, and presently, between the two, out would come the porcupine.

By the end of the “fall,” the animal becomes loaded with fat, from feeding on the berries found in the “barrens.” Its cry is a plaintive, whining sound, not very dissimilar to that of a calf moose. The female produces two at a birth early in the spring. The porcupine can easily be tamed; and Audubon mentions one which was so entirely domesticated, that it would come voluntarily to its master, and take fruit or vegetables out of his hand, rubbing against him as does an affectionate cat. The same animal, however, showed considerable courage. On one occasion it was attacked by a ferocious mastiff. One morning the dog was seen making a dash at some object in the corner of the fence. This proved to be the tame porcupine, which had escaped from its cage. The dog seemed regardless of all its threats, and probably supposing it to be an animal not more formidable than a cat, sprang at it with open mouth. The porcupine seemed to swell up, in an instant, to nearly double its size; and as the dog sprang upon it, dealt him such a sidewise blow with the tail, as to cause the mastiff to relinquish his hold instantly, and set up a howl of pain. His mouth and nose were full of quills. He could not close his jaws, but hurried, open-mouthed, off the premises. Although the servants instantly extracted the spines from the mouth of the dog, his head was terribly pierced, and it was several weeks before he recovered. The porcupine, however, suffered severely from the combat; and as the hot weather came on, showed great signs of distress, and finally died of heat.

The quills of the porcupine are brilliantly stained by the Indians with a variety of colours, and are extensively used by their squaws in ornamenting with fanciful patterns the birch-bark ware which they sell to the white settlers.

Part 1—Chapter VII.Carnivora.The Black Bear.Several species of the bear tribe inhabit America; the two most numerous of which are the black bear, or musquaw, and the far-famed ferocious grizzly bear of the Rocky Mountains. The black bear is found generally among the forests and plains of the east, though the grizzly also descends from his mountain fastnesses, and makes his way through the low country to a considerable distance from his usual abode. Although the black bear has not obtained the same character for fierceness as his grizzly relative, he often proves a formidable opponent when attacked by human foes, and is also dreaded on account of his depredations among their flocks and herds. He is, indeed, a monstrous and powerful animal, often reaching six feet in length from the muzzle to the tail—the tail being only about two inches long—while he stands from three to three and a half feet in height at the shoulder. He is covered with a smooth and glossy coat of thick hair, without any wool at the base.He does not always wear a black suit; sometimes he puts on a brown one. When his coat is perfectly black, he has a cinnamon patch on his muzzle. He varies, too, in shape. Occasionally he is long and low, at others his body is short,—and he has great length of limb. Under ordinary circumstances, he restricts himself to a vegetable diet, but is very fond of a small species of snail which feeds on the prairie grass; and, like others of his relatives, he is greatly addicted to honey. As his feet are furnished with strong sharp claws, he is able to make his way up the trunks of trees to reach his favourite food. In this object he displays great perseverance and acuteness. However high up it may be, or in positions most difficult of access, he will manage to reach the combs containing the sweet repast. Should the comb be hidden away in the hollow of some aged tree, with an entrance too small for admitting his huge paw, he sets to work with his teeth, and gnaws away the wood till he has formed a breach of sufficient size to allow him to put it in. He is utterly regardless of the assaults of the tiny inhabitants of the comb; and scooping out their honey and young together with his fore-paws, devoursthe whole mass. He will sometimes, when pressed by hunger, break into the settler’s barn and carry off sheep, pigs, and small cattle into the neighbouring woods; and so cunning is he, that it is not often he is overtaken, or entrapped in the snare laid for his capture.The Indians of Nova Scotia call him Mooin, which reminds us of Bruin. The Indians throughout the country pay greatrespect to the bear, having, like the Esquimaux, a high opinion of his intellectual powers, and believing that he is in some way related to them, and possessed of an almost human spirit. Still, they do not scruple to kill him; but as soon as the breath is out of his body, they cut off his head, which they place ceremoniously within a mat decorated with a variety of ornaments. They then blow tobacco-smoke into the nostrils, and the chief hunter, praising his courage, and paying a variety of compliments to his surviving relatives, expresses regret at having been compelled to deprive him of life, and his hope that his own conduct has been altogether satisfactory to Mr Mooin, and worthy of the renown they have both attained.The musquaw hibernates, like other bears of northern regions, and is very particular in selecting a dry cave for his long winter’s nap. At the “fall,” he is especially fat, having lived for some time on the beech-mast, blue-berries, and other fruits which grow in great profusion in the forest. He then weighs 500 pounds, and even 600 pounds. The chief part of the fat lies along the back, and on either side, as in the flitch of the hog. There is no doubt that it is by the absorption of this fat throughout his winter fast of four months that he is enabled to exist—at this time evaporation being at a stand-still. Having at length selected a cavern, or the hollow of a decayed tree, for his lair, he scrapes out all the dead leaves, till the ground is perfectly clean and smooth. It must be deep enough to prevent the snow from drifting into it, and free from any water trickling down from above. He objects especially to a habitation which has been occupied by the porcupine, that animal being far from cleanly in its habits. Perhaps also he has an objection to the quills with which the creature is furnished, from their being likely to produce disagreeable wounds. He forgets, perhaps, that the rubbish he has scraped out will betray his abode to the hunter—which it assuredly does. The Indian, on discovering this indubitable sign of Mooin’s abode, takes steps to arouse him and plant a bullet in his head, or to batter out his brains with his axe. Mooin, however, in spite of his usual sagacity, ignorant that his abode may be discovered, perhaps already overcome with a strange desire to sleep, crawls in for his winter’s snooze. He is frequently accompanied by a partner, who will add to his warmth and comfort. He there lies down with his fore-paws curled round his head and nose, which he pokes underneath his chest. Here he remains asleep till the warm sun of March or April tempts him to crawl out in search of food to replenish his empty stomach and strengthen his weakened frame. Madam Mooin is generally, at this time, employed in the pleasing office of increasing her family. Her young cubs, when born, are curiously small, helpless little beings, not larger than rats. Generally there are two of them, and they are born about the middle of February. She manages to nourish them without taking any food herself till March or April, when she also, like her better half, sallies forth in search of provender. The young creatures grow but slowly, and do not attain their full size till they are about four years old. Even when about a couple of months old, the little cubs are not much larger than a retriever puppy of the same age.The musquaw finds great difficulty at first in satisfying the cravings of his appetite. He searches for the cranberries in the open bogs, and is driven even to eat the rank marshy grass. As the snow disappears, he seeks for wood-lice and other creatures in rotten trunks. Hungry as he is, he labours very patiently for his food. The prehensile form of his lips enables him to pick up with wonderful dexterity even the smallest insect or berry. As the ice breaks up in the lakes, he proceeds thither to fish for smelts and other small fish, which he catches with wonderful dexterity with his paws, throwing them out rapidly behind him. When, however, pressed by hunger, and unable to obtain the smaller creatures for food, he will attack young deer if he can take them by surprise; but as he can seldom do this, he is often tempted into the neighbourhood of settlements. Here he lies in wait for the cattle as they wander through the woods to their spring pastures; and when once he has taken to this dangerous proceeding, he is said to continue it. On catching sight of a herd, should it not be accompanied by a human being, he drives the animals into some boggy swamp, and there singling out a victim, he jumps on its back, and deals it a few tremendous blows across the head and shoulders, till the poor animal becomes an easy prey. He then drags it off into the neighbouring wood, and devours it at his leisure. This habit is often the cause of his destruction. On any remainder of the animal being found, the aggrieved settler sets off, rifle in hand and axe in his belt, to punish the aggressor. The bear, he well knows, will revisit the carcass. So cunning, however, is Bruin, and conscious of guilt, that he is constantly on the watch, as he returns, for an enemy. He creeps up, accordingly, looking on either side, his caution increasing as he approaches his prey. The hunter, therefore, to outwit him, seeks his trail in the direction in which he has retreated, and conceals himself near it, but at some distance from the carcass. He waits till the sun is setting, when he is almost sure to see the bear come tripping nimbly along, not yet thinking it necessary to employ caution. At this moment a rifle-bullet, placed in his head, deprives him of his intended feast and his life at the same time.The black bear possesses wonderful strength—said to be fully equal to that of ten men. Experiments have been tried, in which so many persons have attempted to drag off a cask baited with molasses, or other sweet stuff, secured to a rope, when the bear has carried it away with perfect ease, in spite of their united efforts to draw it from him.The most dangerous time to attack a she-bear is in the spring; when she is accompanied by her cubs. If she has time, she will lead them off to a place of safety; but if not, she will chase the intruder from her domains—and woe betide him if he cannot manage to escape her claws! Bears are easily taken in traps, baited with small bundles of sticks smeared with molasses. They are hunted in the “fall,” when they have become fat with the ample supply of blue and whortle berries or beech-mast on which they have been feeding. To obtain the beech-mast, Bruin will frequently climb a tree, and sometimes, like the orang-outang of Eastern seas, will build a rough platform for himself among the upper branches, where he can lie concealed and munch his food at leisure. The most certain way to obtain the animal in this case is to cut down the tree and shoot him as he reaches the ground, for, as may be supposed, he is in no amiable mood when thus disturbed, and, unless speedily killed, would attempt to wreak a fearful vengeance on his assailants. The black bear springs on his prey in the same way as does the tiger or panther of the southern part of the continent. He thus frequently kills the young moose, though the full-grown animal is too active and powerful to be thus caught. He will even attack horses in the same way, though the latter animal often receives him with a furious kick.In the summer, the black bears unite and hunt in gangs, making the forest resound with their fearful snarling and loud moaning cries. They give warning to the hunter to pile fuel on his camp-fire, and to take his rifle in hand, for, strong in numbers, they will not hesitate to approach him, and, if pressed by hunger, to make an assault on his camp.The Grizzly Bear.The most dreaded inhabitant of the Rocky Mountains and their neighbourhood, is the savage grizzly, frequently called by the hunters Old Ephraim. Even the bravest hunter, when making his way through this wild region, finds it necessary to call all his courage and hardihood to his aid, when he sees one of these huge monsters sitting upon its hind-legs prepared for a rush towards him, and uttering a loud, harsh sound, like a person breathing quickly. Should he not wish for a contest, his best plan is to face the monster boldly, moving slowly on, but ever keeping his eyes fixed on the animal. The bear will, in most cases, after watching him attentively for some time, turn round and gallop off. If, however, he should lose his presence of mind, and attempt to fly—or should he fail, when he fires, to shoot the monster throughthe brain—in all probability he will quickly be torn to pieces.The grizzly frequently attains a length of nine feet, and weighs from 700 to 800 pounds. His head, in proportion to his muzzle, is very large. He has a long, narrow muzzle, somewhat flattened, with large, powerful, canine teeth. His eyes are small, and deeply sunk in his head. His tail is so short, that it is completely concealed by the surrounding hair. He possesses remarkably long feet, which, in the full-grown animal, are eighteen inches in length; and they are armed with sharp and powerful claws five inches long, and so extremely sharp, that they cut into the flesh like knives. He can also use them separately like fingers, so that he can grasp a dry clod of earth and crumble it to dust as a human being could do with his hand. He can also, with them, dig into the ground; and when the weight of his body is not too great, they enable him to climb trees, although not with the speed of his black brother of the plains. As acorns form a portion of his food, it is said that he will climb a tree and shake the boughs vehemently to make them fall, when he descends and revels on the fruit his ingenuity has thus obtained. The hunter who has to fly for his life may however escape from a bear,—when the monster is filled out with autumn food, and cannot manage to raise his huge body from the ground,—by climbing a tree.The grizzly varies much in colour. Sometimes his fur is of a dullish brown, freckled over with grizzly hairs; while other specimens are entirely of a steely grey. In all cases, the grizzly hairs give a somewhat white appearance to the surface of the fur. When the animal is young, his fur is of a rich brown, and often very long and thick, and much finer than that of the adult animal. When the creature walks, he swings his body in an odd fashion, rolling his head, at the same time, from side to side, which gives him a remarkably awkward look. Although the grizzly occasionally satisfies himself with vegetable diet, he will also attack and devour any animals he can kill. He does not hesitate to assault the powerful bison; and on overtaking a herd, he will spring without hesitation on the largest bull, and, with the tremendous strokes of his powerful paws, speedily bring it to the ground, when he will without difficulty drag the enormous carcass off to his lair, to devour it at his leisure. All other animals stand in awe of the grizzly; and even the largest pack of hungry wolves will not venture to attack him, nor indeed will they touch his carcass after he has succumbed to the rifle of the hunter. Horses especially are terror-stricken when they scent or see a grizzly; and not until they have been carefully trained, will they even allow the skin of one to be placed on their backs.The grizzly employs his claws both in digging for roots and in burying any large animal he may have killed, to preserve the carcass till he requires it for another meal. An anecdote is given of a hunter who, pursued by one of these monsters, took advantage of this propensity to save his life. His rifle was unloaded. Of course he had not wounded the bear, or his stratagem would have been in vain. Throwing himself on the ground, the hunter closed his eyes, and stretching out his limbs, feigned to be dead. It must have been a fearful moment when he felt the bear lift up his body in his claws to carry him away to the neighbourhood of his lair. The bear having dug a hole, placed him in it, and covered him carefully with leaves, grass, and bushes. An Indian, or hardy backwoodsman, could alone have existed under such circumstances. The hunter waited anxiously till he heard loud snores proceeding from the cavern. Then, slipping up, like Jack the Giant-killer from the castle of the ogre, he scampered off as fast as his legs could carry him.Mr Kane—the Canadian artist—mentions meeting a grizzly when in company with an old, experienced half-breed hunter, François by name. François, however, declined firing, alleging that the risk was greater than the honour to be obtained—his own character for bravery having been long established. Young hunters might do so for the sake of proudly wearing the claws—one of the ornaments most esteemed by an Indian chief—round his neck. Although Kane’s gun had two barrels, and François had his rifle, they knew it was ten chances to one they would not kill him in time to prevent a hand-to-hand encounter. The bear walked on, looking at them now and then, but seeming to treat them with contempt.Some years before this, a party of ten Canadian voyageurs, on a trade excursion in the neighbourhood of the mountains, were quietly seated round a blazing fire, eating a hearty dinner of deer, when a large, half-famished bear cautiously approached the group from behind a chestnut-tree. Before they were aware of his presence, he sprang across the fire, seized one of the men, who had a well-finished bone in his hand, round the waist with his two fore-paws, and ran about fifty yards on his hind-legs with him before he stopped. The hunter’s comrades were so thunderstruck at the unexpected appearance of such a visitor, and his sudden retreat with “pauvre” Louisson—the man who had been carried off—that they for some time lost all presence of mind, and, in a state of confusion, were running to and fro, each expecting in his turn to be kidnapped in a similar manner. At length Baptiste Le Blanc, a half-breed hunter, seized his gun, and was in the act of firing at the bear, when he was stopped by some of the others, who told him that he would inevitably kill their friend, owing to the position he was then in. During this parley, Bruin, relaxing his grasp of the captive, whom he kept securely under him, very leisurely began picking the bone the latter had dropped. Once or twice Louisson attempted to escape, which only caused the bear to watch him more closely. On his making another attempt, the bear again seized him round the waist, and commenced giving him one of those dreadful embraces which generally end in death. The poor fellow was now in great agony, and gave way to the most pitiful screams. Observing Baptiste with his gun ready, anxiously watching a safe opportunity to fire, he cried out, “Tire! tire! mon cher frère, si tu m’aimes! A la tête! à la tête!” This was enough for Le Blanc, who instantly let fire, and hit the bear over the right temple. He fell; and at the same moment dropped Louisson. He gave him an ugly claw along the face, however, which for some time afterwards spoiled his beauty. After he had tired, Le Blanc darted to his companion’s side, and with hiscouteau de chassequickly finished the sufferings of the man-stealer, and rescued his friend from impending death. On skinning the bear, scarcely any meat was found on his bones, showing that it was in a fit of hungry desperation that he had thus made one of the boldest attempts at kidnapping over heard of in the legends of ursine courage.Wolves.There are several species of wolves in North America: one, a large, black animal, which inhabits the forests; and another, much smaller, which hunts the bison and deer in vast packs across the prairie, and is called the prairie-wolf. Like the wolf of Europe, the black wolf is a fierce, dangerous creature, and equally cowardly. When driven into the corner of a hut, as has sometimes occurred, or when caught in a trap, he will not attempt to defend himself against any person who may enter to destroy him. Audubon mentions an instance of this. A farmer with whom he was staying having lost a number of his animals by wolves, dug several pitfalls in theneighbourhood of his farm. Three large wolves were found in the morning in one of these traps. The farmer, instead of shooting them from above, boldly descended into the trap, and seizing the creatures one by one by the hind-legs, severed the chief tendon, thus preventing their escaping. He afterwards killed and skinned them at his leisure, their skins being of sufficient value to repay him for the loss of his cattle.The prairie-wolves are considerably smaller than their brethren of the woods. They travel in large packs, a solitary one being seldom seen. Their skins are of no value. The Indians will not waste their powder upon them, and they therefore multiply so greatly, that some parts of the country are completely overrun by them. They are, however, caught by; pitfalls covered over with switches baited with meat. They destroy a great number of horses, particularly in the winter season, when the latter get entangled in the snow. In this situation, two or three wolves will often fasten on one animal, and speedily, with their long claws, tear it to pieces. The horses, however, often bravely defend themselves; and Mr Goss mentions finding near the bodies of two of these animals, which had been killed the night before, eight wolves lying dead and maimed around,—some with their brains scattered, and others with their legs or ribs broken.Let us watch from an ambush the manoeuvres of a pack of savage cayotes—the name given to one species of wolf—while hunting their prey. Our ears are first assailed by a few shrill, currish barks at intervals, like the outpost firing of skirmishing parties. These are answered by similar barks from the opposite direction, till the sounds gradually approximate on the junction of the different bands. The horses, sensible of the approach of danger, begin to paw the ground, snort, toss up their heads, look wildly about them, and exhibit other symptoms of fear. We prepare our guns ready for action. Three or four stallions take the lead, and wait, with comparative composure, for the approach of the enemy. The allies at length enter the field in a semicircular form, with their flanks extended, for the evident purpose of surrounding their prey.They are between three and four hundred strong. The horses, from experience, know well their object, and, dreading an encounter with so numerous a force, instantly turn round and gallop off in a contrary direction. Their flight is the signal for the wolves to advance. The brutes, uttering a simultaneous yell, charge after the fugitives, still preserving their crescent form. Two or three horses, much out of condition, are quickly overtaken, when they commence kicking at the advance-guard of the enemy; but though several of the wolves receive severe blows, they will, it is evident—being reinforced by others—quickly despatch the unfortunate horses.It is time for us to emerge from our concealment and fire a volley at the enemy’s centre, by which several are brought down. The whole battalion of cowards instantly wheel about, and fly towards the hills in the utmost disorder; while the horses, hearing the sound, come galloping up to us forprotection, and by their neighing express their joy and gratitude at our timely interference.Lynxes.Although lynxes are not so numerous in America as wolves, they are equally destructive, and individually more daring—attacking deer and smaller animals when they can take them at a disadvantage. They seldom fly, as wolves do, on the first approach of man. In size, the largest does not exceed the dimensions of an English mastiff. The Canadian lynx is frequently termed the Peeshoo, and sometimes “Le Chat” by the French Canadians. His coat is covered with long hairs of a dark grey hue, besprinkled with black, the extremities of which are white, with dark mottlings here and there on the back. Sometimes the fur is of a ruddy chestnut tinge, and the limbs are darker than the rest of the body—which is about three feet long. The animal possesses powerful limbs, and thick, heavy feet, furnished with strong, white claws. When moving over the ground it leaps in successive bounds, its back being slightly arched, and all its feet pitching at the same time. It also swims well, and can cross rivers and lakes a couple of miles broad. Strong as it is, it appears it is easily killed by a blow on the back with a slight stick. It ranges throughout the greater part of the continent, and is shot or trapped for the sake of its fur, which is of considerable value.The Wolverene, or Glutton.The wolverene, or glutton, carries off the palm for cunning from all the other animals. It is also more ferocious and daring for its size than even the huge grizzly, while for voracity it is unsurpassed. In appearance, it is somewhat similar to a young bear. It is of a brownish-black colour, with a black muzzle and eyes of a dark hue, the space between them being of a brown tint. The paws are also quite black, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the claws. It possesses large and expanded paws, to enable it to pass over frozen snow; indeed, so large are they, that its footsteps are often mistaken for the tracks of the bear. In one of its habits it resembles Mr Bruin, having the custom, when it finds an animal which it cannot devour at one meal, of carrying off the remainder and hiding it in some secure place.The glutton moves at a somewhat slow pace, and appears rather deficient in agility; but at the same time he is persevering and determined, and will range over a wide extent of country in search of weak or dying animals, stealing unawares upon hares and birds, etcetera. When he takes a fancy to some larger quadruped as it lies asleep, he springs upon it, tearing open the neck and throat. He is supposed to prefer putrid flesh, and the odour which proceeds from him would lead us to suppose that such is the case. The trappers look upon him with especial hatred, as, with his usual cunning, he seeks out their hoards of provisions incache, and destroys their marten-traps. He himself is so sly that he is seldom caught in a snare. When he finds one, he approaches it from behind, and pulling it to pieces from the outside, carries off the bait. The marten-hunter will go forth and set a line of traps, extending to upwards of forty miles in length or circumference. The wolverene, observing what he is about, follows at a distance, carefully pulling the traps to pieces as he leaves them behind, and eating off the heads of the partridges or other birds which have been used as bait, declining all the time to run his nose into danger. When a sable or marten is entrapped, he tears out the dead animal and carries it away. It is even supposed that he will attack a hibernating bear in his den, and manage to kill him before Bruin has aroused himself sufficiently for his defence.The wolverene is the fur-trapper’s greatest foe, and, as may be supposed, he has no mercy shown him. The cunning creature, moreover, in spite of his cleverness, sometimes gets caught. Mr Paul Kane, in one of his journeys across the country, had left acachecomposed of logs built together, something like a log-house, but not very closely fitted. Impelled by hunger after a long journey, he and his companion on their way back reached theircache, and began throwing off the heavy logs which covered the top and concealed it. The Indian, hearing a great disturbance within, called to Mr Kane to fetch the guns. Just as he got up, a fine fat wolverene jumped out, but was immediately shot down. The creature must have been starved and desperately thin to have squeezed himself through the openings between the logs, and no doubt, impelled by hunger and the smell of the meat inside, had not thought much of a slight squeeze. When, however, he was once in, and had enjoyed a few good meals, he could not get out again, and the idea of starving himself as long as the meat lasted did not appear to have occurred to him.The disappointment to the hungry travellers was very great, as but little food was left, and that was mangled, torn, and tossed about in the dirt by the animal.The Raccoon.To obtain a satisfactory sight of the raccoon, we must set out into the forest by torchlight, accompanied by dogs, with fowling-piece in hand. As he remains during the day in some hollow tree, it is rarely we can get a good view of him. Even if by chance found on the ground, he ascends the tree so rapidly, that he is stowed away before our rifle can reach theshoulder. The well-trained dog, however, quickly finds him when roving about the woods at night.Let us accompany Audubon on a ’coon hunt. Our native companions have gone before with the dogs, who are baying at the raccoon in an open part of the forest. On our coming up, a singular scene presents itself to us. The flare of our torch seems to distress him. His coat is ruffled, and his rounded tail seems thrice its ordinary size. His eyes shine like emeralds. With foaming jaws he watches the dogs, ready to seize by the snout each who comes within reach. His guttural growlings, instead of intimidating his assailants, excite them the more. He seizes one, however, by the lip. It is adangerous proceeding, for, while thus far victorious, the other curs attack him in flank and rear, while their companion yells pitifully. The raccoon will not let go, but the other dogs, seizing him fast, worry him to death. Yet to the last he holds tightly the dog’s lip.While we stand gazing at the poor animal, all around is, by the flare of the torch, rendered trebly dark and dismal. It is a scene for a skilful painter.The raccoon is about the same size as a small fox, and though somewhat like it, has also rather an ursine appearance. He has a tufted tail marked with black and white bands. The head tapers somewhat like that of the fox, but the ears are short and slightly rounded, the forehead broad, and the nose sharp. The fore-legs being shorter than the hinder, when he stands the tail end of his body is lifted higher than the front, and consequently his back appears curved. He walks like the dog, putting the tips of his toes to the ground; but when he stops he lays his feet flat.He receives no mercy from the farmers, for he is of a sanguinary and savage disposition, and commits great havoc among domestic as well as wild birds, always destroying far more than he requires; merely eating off their heads, or lapping up the blood which flows from their wounds. He commits occasionally ravages in sugar-cane or Indian-corn plantations; and, climbing with ease, catches birds, and devours their eggs. He resembles the squirrel in his movements; and, like that animal, when eating, sits on his hind-legs, and uses his fore-feet to carry his food to his mouth. A story is told of a young tame raccoon let loose in a poultry-yard, when, his natural disposition overcoming his civilised manners, he sprang on a cock strutting in a dignified fashion among the hens, and fixed himself on its back. The bird, surprised at so unusual an attack, began scampering round the yard, the hens scattering far and wide in the utmost confusion. Still the little animal kept his seat, till he managed to get hold of the unfortunate cock’s head in his jaws, and before the bird could be rescued, had crunched it up—still keeping his seat, in spite of the dying struggles of his victim; and probably, had he not been bagged, would have treated all the feathered inhabitants of the yard in the same fashion. When out hunting on his own account, he often hides himself among the long reeds on the bank of a lake or stream, and pouncing out on the wild ducks as they swim incautiously by, treats them as he does the domestic fowls on shore.He partakes considerably of the cunning of the fox, yet, like that animal, is frequently outwitted. A raccoon after a long chase managed to reach a tree, which he quickly climbed, with the aid of his claws, snugly ensconcing himself in the deserted nest of a crow. In vain the hunters sought for him, till his long, annulated tail, which he had forgottento coil up within the nest, was seen pendent below it; and the poor raccoon was quickly brought to the ground by a rifle ball.He has gained the name of the lotor, or the washer, in consequence of his habit of plunging his dry food into water before eating it. He also drinks a large quantity of water. When moistening his food, he grasps it with both his fore-paws, moving it violently backwards and forwards, as a person does washing clothes in a stream. The German naturalists call him the washing-bear. Though savage and bloodthirsty in his wild state, he is frequently tamed; but he is somewhat capricious in temper, and not easily reconciled when offended. It is curious that he should, when domesticated, change his usual custom of sleeping in the daytime and wandering about at night; but this he does, remaining quiet all night, and making his appearance among the inmates of the house as soon as the sun sheds its light abroad. Though in his wild state a fit member for a temperance society, he will when in captivity, as if to recompense himself for his hard lot, drink fermented liquors of all sorts—the stronger and sweeter the better. An old writer on American animals says, in reference to this propensity, that if taken young it is easily made tame, but “is the drunkenest creature alive, if he can get any liquor that is sweet and strong.” The same writer states that the cunning raccoon often catches crabs by inserting one of his feet into their holes, and dragging them out as soon as they seize hold of it.The Agouaha, or Crab-Eating Raccoon.In the Southern States we find another species of raccoon, somewhat larger than the former, who is addicted to eating molluscs and crustaceans, whether marine or terrestrial. It is said, also, that when other means fail of obtaining food, he seats himself on a branch hanging low down over some quiet pool, and using his flexible tail as a fishing-line, waits patiently till its end is caught hold of by a snapping turtle or other inhabitant of the water, when, whisking it up, he tears open the creature’s shell and devours the luscious flesh with aldermanic relish. The fur is generally of a blackish-grey hue, washed with a tinge of yellow. A blacker tint prevailson the head, neck, and along the spine. His tail, in proportion to the size of his body, is shorter than that of the common raccoon, and is marked with six black rings, upon a blackish-yellow ground.The Ermine.When we see the judge seated in his richly trimmed robe of ermine—emblem of purity—or call to mind the regal robes of a proud monarch, we are apt to forget that the fur which we so much admire is but that of the detested stoat, turned white during his abode amid the winter’s snow of a northern clime. He is not unlike the weasel, especially when clothed in his darker summer dress, but with a less ruddy hue. The edges of the ears and the toes always remain white.He is considerably larger than the weasel, measuring upwards of fourteen inches, including the tail—which is aboutfour inches long, the tip almost black. He is a bold hunter, and follows and destroys the hare, and other animals of equal size. It is said, even, that several together will venture to attack a man. They are caught in America by traps, which, giving the animal a sudden blow, kill it without injuring the skin.The winter coat of the ermine is produced by the whitening of the fur, and not, as was once supposed, by the substitution of white for dark hairs. Probably one cause of this change of hue may be that the energies of the creature concentrate themselves on the vital organs, to enable it to resist the extreme low temperature of the icy regions it inhabits, and cannot thus spare a sufficient amount of blood for the formation of the colouring matter which tinges the hair. Human beings as well as animals become weaker as they increase in age; and it has been observed that their hair also loses its colour, in consequence of such energies as they possess being required to assist the more important functions of nature. This corroborates the correctness of the former remark.The ermine, like other species of its genus, has the faculty of ejecting a fluid of a strong musky odour. It is abundant, not only in the barren grounds of the Hudson Bay territories, but is also found in Norway and Siberia.When the fur is used for robes, or similar purposes, the black tuft at the end of the tail is sewn on at regular distances to the skin, giving to the ermine fur the appearance we are all familiar with.The Pine-Marten.The pine-marten, a species of weasel, obtains its name from being found amid pine-forests, and from its habit of climbing the trunks of pines in search of prey. It is a fierce and savage creature, choosing to live alone, away from the haunts of man. It is from eighteen to twenty inches in length—with a tail measuring about ten inches—and is covered with long bushy hair. Moving without difficulty among the branches, it seizes many an unfortunate bird in its deadly gripe before its victim can take to flight—robbing also the nest of the eggs within it.It is common in Europe, as well as in America; but in the cold regions of the Hudson Bay Company it is hunted for the sake of its skin, which is, when blanched during the winter’s cold, scarcely inferior to that of the celebrated sable.When pursued and overtaken, it stands at bay, exhibiting its teeth, erecting its hair, arching its back, and hissing like a cat. It forms its burrows in the ground, the female producing, a litter of from four to seven. Like other animals of its tribe, it emits a peculiar musky smell.The Otter.In winter, along the steep banks of the frozen streams, smooth and shining tracks may be readily detected. They are produced by otters, which have a curious habit of sliding downwards for their amusement—much as human beings are accustomed to do in Canada in their toboggans. To do this, they lie on their bellies, with their fore-legs bent backwards, and giving themselves an impetus with their hind-legs, down they glide, at a swift rate, upon the ice. This sport they will continue for some time, climbing up again to the top of the bank, and repeating the process over and over again. They are also accustomed to pass through the woods from lake to lake, making a direct track in the snow. These tracks are easily known. Then comes a broad trail, as if made by a cart-wheel. This is formed by the animal throwing itself on its belly, and thus sliding along over the surface for several yards. These places are called “otter rubs.”There are two species of otter in North America—one on the east, and the other on the Pacific slope—differing slightly from each other. The former is considerably larger than that of the Old World, measuring, from the nose to the tip of the tail, sometimes from four and a half to five feet. Like most other water animals, it possesses two sorts of hair: the one is long and shining, and of a rich brown colour, except on the throat, which is of a dusky white; the other is very fine and soft, lying next the skin, and serving to protect it from theextremes of heat and cold. It has excessively sharp, short teeth, which enable it to hold fast the fish, on which it chiefly feeds. Its body is elongated and much flattened, and the tail, which is of great length, is also flat and broad. The legs are short and strong, and so loosely jointed that it can turn them in any direction when swimming.The habitations of otters are formed in the banks of rivers or lakes, and are not altogether of an artificial character, as they prefer occupying any deserted hollow or natural crevice to the trouble of digging burrows for themselves. Though they are very playful animals, and delight apparently in sport, they are somewhat of a savage disposition, and must be taken very young to be domesticated. They are cautious, timid animals, and can seldom be approached unawares. They eatall sorts of fresh-water fish, such as trout, perch, eels, and suckers; and will also devour frogs. Occasionally they may be observed on a rocky islet of some lone stream, resting after a banquet, or about to plunge into the water in chase of one of the finny tribe, which their keen eyes detect swimming by. They are trapped, in Canada, by steel traps, which are submerged close to the bank below their “rubs.” They make a peculiar whistling sound, which the Indian can imitate perfectly, and thus frequently induces them to approach. Their skins are manufactured into muffs and trimmings and caps, such as are usually worn in winter by Canadians.An otter, when attacked, will defend itself with desperation, snapping furiously at the Indian, and then shaking its head violently as a dog does when destroying a rat. Their bite is severe—sufficient indeed to snap off a man’s finger—and when once its jaws are closed, no power is capable of making itrelinquish its grasp. The Canadians do not attempt to tame the otter; but the persevering Chinese not only contrive to domesticate the species found in their country, but teach them to capture fish for their benefit.The Skunk.Rambling amid the woods, even in the neighbourhood of settlements, we may occasionally come upon a curious little animal, with a party-coloured coat and bushy tail, and an amiable and gentle appearance. The creature appears to be in no way timid, and will very likely await our approach. As we draw near it, however, it is apt to turn round and erect its bushy tail perpendicularly. Let us beware of what we are about, for, in a moment, the creature may send over us a shower of a substance so horribly odious, that not only may we be blinded and sickened by the effluvium, but our clothes will be made useless, from the difficulty of getting rid of the odour.The creature is the skunk, and is about the size of a cat. It possesses short round ears, black cheeks, and a white stripe extending from the nose to the back. The upper part of the neck and the whole back are white, divided by a black line. Below, it is black, as are the legs; and it has a full tail of coarse black hair, occasionally tipped with white. Its legs are short, and it does not possess much activity. Its feet are armed with claws, somewhat like those of the badger.It appears to use this horrid effluvium—which is generated in glands near the tail—as a means of defence. All other animals have a due horror of it. Anything which it touches is tainted: provisions are destroyed; and clothes, though often washed, will retain the smell for many weeks. At one time this substance was used for medicinal purposes. The mode of defence bestowed on the skunk is somewhat similar to that employed by the cuttle-fish, which emits a dark liquor when pursued. Those who have once smelt the horribly fetid odour of the skunk will not easily forget it.The Pekan, or Wood-Shock.Still keeping to the lakes and streams, we may often fall in with a creature of curious habits, which, unlike those just described, lives almost entirely among the branches of the trees. In shape it is somewhat like a weasel, and is the largest of the tree martens. It is known as the wood-shock or pekan, and is also called the black cat, and fisher. This last term is inappropriate, as it is not in any way piscivorous. It is of a dark brown hue, with a line of black shining hair reaching from the neck to the extremity of the tail. The under parts are lighter; some entirely white. It possesses also a very large, full, and expressive eye.Though spending its time among the trees, hunting for its prey, it forms a burrow in the ground for its usual habitation. It lives upon squirrels and rabbits, as well as grouse and other birds and their eggs. Not only does it venture to attack the well-armed porcupine, but it kills the animal, and eats it up, quills and all. The difficulty of accomplishing this appears very great, but there are numerous instances in which pekans have been killed, when their bodies were found full of quills, from which they did not appear to have suffered. They eat up, indeed, both the flesh and bones of the porcupine—the latter being so strong that a small bird cannot crack them. Mr Downs, the naturalist of Nova Scotia, states that he has frequently found porcupine quills in the stomach of the fisher.The animal is hunted for the sake of its skin, which is of some value—as also for amusement, especially by boys, as the creature is not sufficiently formidable to cause any great danger to them or their dogs. It is about four feet long, including the tail, which measures about eighteen inches.The Mink.Another denizen on the shores of the fresh-waters of Canada is the mink, called also the smaller otter, and sometimes known as the water pole-cat. It may be seen swimming about the lakes, preferring generally the still waters in autumn to the more rapidly-flowing currents of spring. It somewhat resembles the otter, and differs in shape slightly from the marten or ferret. Its teeth, however, are more likethose of the pole-cat than the otter; while its tail does not possess the muscular power of the latter animal.Like the otter, it lives upon fish and frogs, but will occasionally make a marauding expedition into poultry-yards. Its general colour is a dark reddish-brown, approaching in some specimens almost to black on the head; while there is a patch of white, varying in size, under the chin. It is trapped by the settlers both in self-defence and on account of its fur, which is of considerable value, and greatly resembles sable—a good skin often fetching four or five dollars.Marsupials, or Pouched Animals:—The Virginian or Common Opossum.The opossum, with its prehensile tail, marsupial pouch, and cunning ways, stands alone for its singularity among all the animals of the American continent. Many of the tribe are found in South America; but the Virginian opossum, the size of a full-grown cat, is larger than all its relatives. The head and body measure about twenty-two inches; and the tail, fifteen. It is covered with a light grey hair of wool-like softness, short on the face and body, but long on the legs. The base end of the tail is thick and black, and is covered with small scales. So powerful is this member that the opossum can hold on with it to the bough of a tree, and even when desperately wounded it does not let go. Its face is long and sharpened, the mouth very determined, and armed with numerous sharp teeth. It has thin, naked, round, and blackish ears, edged with a border of white. It has short legs, the feet being armed with claws, and the interior toes of the hind-feet are flat and rounded.It has the power of emitting a disagreeable odour when chased or alarmed. When pursued, it makes for the nearest tree; and should it discover the approach of a hunter and his dogs when already up a tree, instead of taking to flight, it lies close along the branch, endeavouring to hide itself. When moving amidst the boughs, it swings itself from branch to branch by means of its tail; and it may be observed at times hanging down, with its eyes wide open, on the look-out for any birds which may incautiously alight on the bough above, or pass within its grasp.It is very voracious, feeding on small quadrupeds and birds of all sorts; while it does not disdain to prey off a brood of young cotton rats and mice, and devours insects and a variety of reptiles. When unable to find sufficient food in the forest, or too lazy to look for it, it will, without hesitation, make a raid into the farmer’s poultry-yard, and carry off or kill his fowls, and eat up any eggs it may find. The opossum does not always indulge in animal diet,—for he climbs fruit-trees to carry off their luscious productions; and for the sake of obtaining maize, of which he is especiallyfond, he will climb the tallest stems, and bite them across, so as to bring the heavy ear to the ground. He will also clamber to some higher branch, and hang down, in search of the fruit growing on the boughs incapable of bearing his weight.The quality for which he is chiefly noted is his habit of feigning death. Frequently he is brought to the ground, when there he lies, every limb relaxed, evidently as dead as can be. The knowing hunter will, however, keep his glance on the creature. If he withdraws it for a moment, its eyelids will be seen slowly opening; and should he turn his head for even the shortest space, the creature will be on its feet, stealing away through the underwood. Though so perfectly an adept at “’possuming,” before attempting to practise its usual ruse it will make every effort to escape from its pursuers. When chasedalone by a dog, it will content itself by scrambling up a tree, and sitting quietly on a branch, out of reach, looking down on its canine assailant with contempt as it runs barking furiously below it. The opossum is thus said to be “treed;” and before long, the barking of the dog brings his master to the spot, when the opossum has to fly for its life to the highest branch it can reach. It is easily captured by the rudest style of trap, into which it will walk without hesitation. When “feigning ’possum,” it will submit to be knocked about, and kicked and cuffed, without giving the slightest sign of life. The flesh of the opossum is white, and considered excellent—especially in the autumn, when, after feeding amply on the fruits, beech-nuts, and wild berries, of which it is especially fond, it is very fat.The female opossum builds a warm nest of dry leaves and moss, sometimes in the hollow of a rotten tree, or beneath its wide-spreading roots. She has been known occasionally to take possession of a squirrel’s nest; and at other times, that of the Florida rat. When her young—generally thirteen to fifteen appearing at a time—are born, they are extremely small—not an inch in length, including the tail—and weighing only four grains. After a couple of weeks or so, she places them in her pouch, when they grow in size and strength, and in about four weeks may be seen with their heads poked out surveying the world, into which they begin to wander at the end of five or six weeks. When first-born, they are the most helpless of little creatures, being both deaf and blind.The larger number of opossums, however, are to be found in South America, where we shall have an opportunity of further examining them.

Several species of the bear tribe inhabit America; the two most numerous of which are the black bear, or musquaw, and the far-famed ferocious grizzly bear of the Rocky Mountains. The black bear is found generally among the forests and plains of the east, though the grizzly also descends from his mountain fastnesses, and makes his way through the low country to a considerable distance from his usual abode. Although the black bear has not obtained the same character for fierceness as his grizzly relative, he often proves a formidable opponent when attacked by human foes, and is also dreaded on account of his depredations among their flocks and herds. He is, indeed, a monstrous and powerful animal, often reaching six feet in length from the muzzle to the tail—the tail being only about two inches long—while he stands from three to three and a half feet in height at the shoulder. He is covered with a smooth and glossy coat of thick hair, without any wool at the base.He does not always wear a black suit; sometimes he puts on a brown one. When his coat is perfectly black, he has a cinnamon patch on his muzzle. He varies, too, in shape. Occasionally he is long and low, at others his body is short,—and he has great length of limb. Under ordinary circumstances, he restricts himself to a vegetable diet, but is very fond of a small species of snail which feeds on the prairie grass; and, like others of his relatives, he is greatly addicted to honey. As his feet are furnished with strong sharp claws, he is able to make his way up the trunks of trees to reach his favourite food. In this object he displays great perseverance and acuteness. However high up it may be, or in positions most difficult of access, he will manage to reach the combs containing the sweet repast. Should the comb be hidden away in the hollow of some aged tree, with an entrance too small for admitting his huge paw, he sets to work with his teeth, and gnaws away the wood till he has formed a breach of sufficient size to allow him to put it in. He is utterly regardless of the assaults of the tiny inhabitants of the comb; and scooping out their honey and young together with his fore-paws, devoursthe whole mass. He will sometimes, when pressed by hunger, break into the settler’s barn and carry off sheep, pigs, and small cattle into the neighbouring woods; and so cunning is he, that it is not often he is overtaken, or entrapped in the snare laid for his capture.

The Indians of Nova Scotia call him Mooin, which reminds us of Bruin. The Indians throughout the country pay greatrespect to the bear, having, like the Esquimaux, a high opinion of his intellectual powers, and believing that he is in some way related to them, and possessed of an almost human spirit. Still, they do not scruple to kill him; but as soon as the breath is out of his body, they cut off his head, which they place ceremoniously within a mat decorated with a variety of ornaments. They then blow tobacco-smoke into the nostrils, and the chief hunter, praising his courage, and paying a variety of compliments to his surviving relatives, expresses regret at having been compelled to deprive him of life, and his hope that his own conduct has been altogether satisfactory to Mr Mooin, and worthy of the renown they have both attained.

The musquaw hibernates, like other bears of northern regions, and is very particular in selecting a dry cave for his long winter’s nap. At the “fall,” he is especially fat, having lived for some time on the beech-mast, blue-berries, and other fruits which grow in great profusion in the forest. He then weighs 500 pounds, and even 600 pounds. The chief part of the fat lies along the back, and on either side, as in the flitch of the hog. There is no doubt that it is by the absorption of this fat throughout his winter fast of four months that he is enabled to exist—at this time evaporation being at a stand-still. Having at length selected a cavern, or the hollow of a decayed tree, for his lair, he scrapes out all the dead leaves, till the ground is perfectly clean and smooth. It must be deep enough to prevent the snow from drifting into it, and free from any water trickling down from above. He objects especially to a habitation which has been occupied by the porcupine, that animal being far from cleanly in its habits. Perhaps also he has an objection to the quills with which the creature is furnished, from their being likely to produce disagreeable wounds. He forgets, perhaps, that the rubbish he has scraped out will betray his abode to the hunter—which it assuredly does. The Indian, on discovering this indubitable sign of Mooin’s abode, takes steps to arouse him and plant a bullet in his head, or to batter out his brains with his axe. Mooin, however, in spite of his usual sagacity, ignorant that his abode may be discovered, perhaps already overcome with a strange desire to sleep, crawls in for his winter’s snooze. He is frequently accompanied by a partner, who will add to his warmth and comfort. He there lies down with his fore-paws curled round his head and nose, which he pokes underneath his chest. Here he remains asleep till the warm sun of March or April tempts him to crawl out in search of food to replenish his empty stomach and strengthen his weakened frame. Madam Mooin is generally, at this time, employed in the pleasing office of increasing her family. Her young cubs, when born, are curiously small, helpless little beings, not larger than rats. Generally there are two of them, and they are born about the middle of February. She manages to nourish them without taking any food herself till March or April, when she also, like her better half, sallies forth in search of provender. The young creatures grow but slowly, and do not attain their full size till they are about four years old. Even when about a couple of months old, the little cubs are not much larger than a retriever puppy of the same age.

The musquaw finds great difficulty at first in satisfying the cravings of his appetite. He searches for the cranberries in the open bogs, and is driven even to eat the rank marshy grass. As the snow disappears, he seeks for wood-lice and other creatures in rotten trunks. Hungry as he is, he labours very patiently for his food. The prehensile form of his lips enables him to pick up with wonderful dexterity even the smallest insect or berry. As the ice breaks up in the lakes, he proceeds thither to fish for smelts and other small fish, which he catches with wonderful dexterity with his paws, throwing them out rapidly behind him. When, however, pressed by hunger, and unable to obtain the smaller creatures for food, he will attack young deer if he can take them by surprise; but as he can seldom do this, he is often tempted into the neighbourhood of settlements. Here he lies in wait for the cattle as they wander through the woods to their spring pastures; and when once he has taken to this dangerous proceeding, he is said to continue it. On catching sight of a herd, should it not be accompanied by a human being, he drives the animals into some boggy swamp, and there singling out a victim, he jumps on its back, and deals it a few tremendous blows across the head and shoulders, till the poor animal becomes an easy prey. He then drags it off into the neighbouring wood, and devours it at his leisure. This habit is often the cause of his destruction. On any remainder of the animal being found, the aggrieved settler sets off, rifle in hand and axe in his belt, to punish the aggressor. The bear, he well knows, will revisit the carcass. So cunning, however, is Bruin, and conscious of guilt, that he is constantly on the watch, as he returns, for an enemy. He creeps up, accordingly, looking on either side, his caution increasing as he approaches his prey. The hunter, therefore, to outwit him, seeks his trail in the direction in which he has retreated, and conceals himself near it, but at some distance from the carcass. He waits till the sun is setting, when he is almost sure to see the bear come tripping nimbly along, not yet thinking it necessary to employ caution. At this moment a rifle-bullet, placed in his head, deprives him of his intended feast and his life at the same time.

The black bear possesses wonderful strength—said to be fully equal to that of ten men. Experiments have been tried, in which so many persons have attempted to drag off a cask baited with molasses, or other sweet stuff, secured to a rope, when the bear has carried it away with perfect ease, in spite of their united efforts to draw it from him.

The most dangerous time to attack a she-bear is in the spring; when she is accompanied by her cubs. If she has time, she will lead them off to a place of safety; but if not, she will chase the intruder from her domains—and woe betide him if he cannot manage to escape her claws! Bears are easily taken in traps, baited with small bundles of sticks smeared with molasses. They are hunted in the “fall,” when they have become fat with the ample supply of blue and whortle berries or beech-mast on which they have been feeding. To obtain the beech-mast, Bruin will frequently climb a tree, and sometimes, like the orang-outang of Eastern seas, will build a rough platform for himself among the upper branches, where he can lie concealed and munch his food at leisure. The most certain way to obtain the animal in this case is to cut down the tree and shoot him as he reaches the ground, for, as may be supposed, he is in no amiable mood when thus disturbed, and, unless speedily killed, would attempt to wreak a fearful vengeance on his assailants. The black bear springs on his prey in the same way as does the tiger or panther of the southern part of the continent. He thus frequently kills the young moose, though the full-grown animal is too active and powerful to be thus caught. He will even attack horses in the same way, though the latter animal often receives him with a furious kick.

In the summer, the black bears unite and hunt in gangs, making the forest resound with their fearful snarling and loud moaning cries. They give warning to the hunter to pile fuel on his camp-fire, and to take his rifle in hand, for, strong in numbers, they will not hesitate to approach him, and, if pressed by hunger, to make an assault on his camp.

The most dreaded inhabitant of the Rocky Mountains and their neighbourhood, is the savage grizzly, frequently called by the hunters Old Ephraim. Even the bravest hunter, when making his way through this wild region, finds it necessary to call all his courage and hardihood to his aid, when he sees one of these huge monsters sitting upon its hind-legs prepared for a rush towards him, and uttering a loud, harsh sound, like a person breathing quickly. Should he not wish for a contest, his best plan is to face the monster boldly, moving slowly on, but ever keeping his eyes fixed on the animal. The bear will, in most cases, after watching him attentively for some time, turn round and gallop off. If, however, he should lose his presence of mind, and attempt to fly—or should he fail, when he fires, to shoot the monster throughthe brain—in all probability he will quickly be torn to pieces.

The grizzly frequently attains a length of nine feet, and weighs from 700 to 800 pounds. His head, in proportion to his muzzle, is very large. He has a long, narrow muzzle, somewhat flattened, with large, powerful, canine teeth. His eyes are small, and deeply sunk in his head. His tail is so short, that it is completely concealed by the surrounding hair. He possesses remarkably long feet, which, in the full-grown animal, are eighteen inches in length; and they are armed with sharp and powerful claws five inches long, and so extremely sharp, that they cut into the flesh like knives. He can also use them separately like fingers, so that he can grasp a dry clod of earth and crumble it to dust as a human being could do with his hand. He can also, with them, dig into the ground; and when the weight of his body is not too great, they enable him to climb trees, although not with the speed of his black brother of the plains. As acorns form a portion of his food, it is said that he will climb a tree and shake the boughs vehemently to make them fall, when he descends and revels on the fruit his ingenuity has thus obtained. The hunter who has to fly for his life may however escape from a bear,—when the monster is filled out with autumn food, and cannot manage to raise his huge body from the ground,—by climbing a tree.

The grizzly varies much in colour. Sometimes his fur is of a dullish brown, freckled over with grizzly hairs; while other specimens are entirely of a steely grey. In all cases, the grizzly hairs give a somewhat white appearance to the surface of the fur. When the animal is young, his fur is of a rich brown, and often very long and thick, and much finer than that of the adult animal. When the creature walks, he swings his body in an odd fashion, rolling his head, at the same time, from side to side, which gives him a remarkably awkward look. Although the grizzly occasionally satisfies himself with vegetable diet, he will also attack and devour any animals he can kill. He does not hesitate to assault the powerful bison; and on overtaking a herd, he will spring without hesitation on the largest bull, and, with the tremendous strokes of his powerful paws, speedily bring it to the ground, when he will without difficulty drag the enormous carcass off to his lair, to devour it at his leisure. All other animals stand in awe of the grizzly; and even the largest pack of hungry wolves will not venture to attack him, nor indeed will they touch his carcass after he has succumbed to the rifle of the hunter. Horses especially are terror-stricken when they scent or see a grizzly; and not until they have been carefully trained, will they even allow the skin of one to be placed on their backs.

The grizzly employs his claws both in digging for roots and in burying any large animal he may have killed, to preserve the carcass till he requires it for another meal. An anecdote is given of a hunter who, pursued by one of these monsters, took advantage of this propensity to save his life. His rifle was unloaded. Of course he had not wounded the bear, or his stratagem would have been in vain. Throwing himself on the ground, the hunter closed his eyes, and stretching out his limbs, feigned to be dead. It must have been a fearful moment when he felt the bear lift up his body in his claws to carry him away to the neighbourhood of his lair. The bear having dug a hole, placed him in it, and covered him carefully with leaves, grass, and bushes. An Indian, or hardy backwoodsman, could alone have existed under such circumstances. The hunter waited anxiously till he heard loud snores proceeding from the cavern. Then, slipping up, like Jack the Giant-killer from the castle of the ogre, he scampered off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Mr Kane—the Canadian artist—mentions meeting a grizzly when in company with an old, experienced half-breed hunter, François by name. François, however, declined firing, alleging that the risk was greater than the honour to be obtained—his own character for bravery having been long established. Young hunters might do so for the sake of proudly wearing the claws—one of the ornaments most esteemed by an Indian chief—round his neck. Although Kane’s gun had two barrels, and François had his rifle, they knew it was ten chances to one they would not kill him in time to prevent a hand-to-hand encounter. The bear walked on, looking at them now and then, but seeming to treat them with contempt.

Some years before this, a party of ten Canadian voyageurs, on a trade excursion in the neighbourhood of the mountains, were quietly seated round a blazing fire, eating a hearty dinner of deer, when a large, half-famished bear cautiously approached the group from behind a chestnut-tree. Before they were aware of his presence, he sprang across the fire, seized one of the men, who had a well-finished bone in his hand, round the waist with his two fore-paws, and ran about fifty yards on his hind-legs with him before he stopped. The hunter’s comrades were so thunderstruck at the unexpected appearance of such a visitor, and his sudden retreat with “pauvre” Louisson—the man who had been carried off—that they for some time lost all presence of mind, and, in a state of confusion, were running to and fro, each expecting in his turn to be kidnapped in a similar manner. At length Baptiste Le Blanc, a half-breed hunter, seized his gun, and was in the act of firing at the bear, when he was stopped by some of the others, who told him that he would inevitably kill their friend, owing to the position he was then in. During this parley, Bruin, relaxing his grasp of the captive, whom he kept securely under him, very leisurely began picking the bone the latter had dropped. Once or twice Louisson attempted to escape, which only caused the bear to watch him more closely. On his making another attempt, the bear again seized him round the waist, and commenced giving him one of those dreadful embraces which generally end in death. The poor fellow was now in great agony, and gave way to the most pitiful screams. Observing Baptiste with his gun ready, anxiously watching a safe opportunity to fire, he cried out, “Tire! tire! mon cher frère, si tu m’aimes! A la tête! à la tête!” This was enough for Le Blanc, who instantly let fire, and hit the bear over the right temple. He fell; and at the same moment dropped Louisson. He gave him an ugly claw along the face, however, which for some time afterwards spoiled his beauty. After he had tired, Le Blanc darted to his companion’s side, and with hiscouteau de chassequickly finished the sufferings of the man-stealer, and rescued his friend from impending death. On skinning the bear, scarcely any meat was found on his bones, showing that it was in a fit of hungry desperation that he had thus made one of the boldest attempts at kidnapping over heard of in the legends of ursine courage.

There are several species of wolves in North America: one, a large, black animal, which inhabits the forests; and another, much smaller, which hunts the bison and deer in vast packs across the prairie, and is called the prairie-wolf. Like the wolf of Europe, the black wolf is a fierce, dangerous creature, and equally cowardly. When driven into the corner of a hut, as has sometimes occurred, or when caught in a trap, he will not attempt to defend himself against any person who may enter to destroy him. Audubon mentions an instance of this. A farmer with whom he was staying having lost a number of his animals by wolves, dug several pitfalls in theneighbourhood of his farm. Three large wolves were found in the morning in one of these traps. The farmer, instead of shooting them from above, boldly descended into the trap, and seizing the creatures one by one by the hind-legs, severed the chief tendon, thus preventing their escaping. He afterwards killed and skinned them at his leisure, their skins being of sufficient value to repay him for the loss of his cattle.

The prairie-wolves are considerably smaller than their brethren of the woods. They travel in large packs, a solitary one being seldom seen. Their skins are of no value. The Indians will not waste their powder upon them, and they therefore multiply so greatly, that some parts of the country are completely overrun by them. They are, however, caught by; pitfalls covered over with switches baited with meat. They destroy a great number of horses, particularly in the winter season, when the latter get entangled in the snow. In this situation, two or three wolves will often fasten on one animal, and speedily, with their long claws, tear it to pieces. The horses, however, often bravely defend themselves; and Mr Goss mentions finding near the bodies of two of these animals, which had been killed the night before, eight wolves lying dead and maimed around,—some with their brains scattered, and others with their legs or ribs broken.

Let us watch from an ambush the manoeuvres of a pack of savage cayotes—the name given to one species of wolf—while hunting their prey. Our ears are first assailed by a few shrill, currish barks at intervals, like the outpost firing of skirmishing parties. These are answered by similar barks from the opposite direction, till the sounds gradually approximate on the junction of the different bands. The horses, sensible of the approach of danger, begin to paw the ground, snort, toss up their heads, look wildly about them, and exhibit other symptoms of fear. We prepare our guns ready for action. Three or four stallions take the lead, and wait, with comparative composure, for the approach of the enemy. The allies at length enter the field in a semicircular form, with their flanks extended, for the evident purpose of surrounding their prey.

They are between three and four hundred strong. The horses, from experience, know well their object, and, dreading an encounter with so numerous a force, instantly turn round and gallop off in a contrary direction. Their flight is the signal for the wolves to advance. The brutes, uttering a simultaneous yell, charge after the fugitives, still preserving their crescent form. Two or three horses, much out of condition, are quickly overtaken, when they commence kicking at the advance-guard of the enemy; but though several of the wolves receive severe blows, they will, it is evident—being reinforced by others—quickly despatch the unfortunate horses.

It is time for us to emerge from our concealment and fire a volley at the enemy’s centre, by which several are brought down. The whole battalion of cowards instantly wheel about, and fly towards the hills in the utmost disorder; while the horses, hearing the sound, come galloping up to us forprotection, and by their neighing express their joy and gratitude at our timely interference.

Although lynxes are not so numerous in America as wolves, they are equally destructive, and individually more daring—attacking deer and smaller animals when they can take them at a disadvantage. They seldom fly, as wolves do, on the first approach of man. In size, the largest does not exceed the dimensions of an English mastiff. The Canadian lynx is frequently termed the Peeshoo, and sometimes “Le Chat” by the French Canadians. His coat is covered with long hairs of a dark grey hue, besprinkled with black, the extremities of which are white, with dark mottlings here and there on the back. Sometimes the fur is of a ruddy chestnut tinge, and the limbs are darker than the rest of the body—which is about three feet long. The animal possesses powerful limbs, and thick, heavy feet, furnished with strong, white claws. When moving over the ground it leaps in successive bounds, its back being slightly arched, and all its feet pitching at the same time. It also swims well, and can cross rivers and lakes a couple of miles broad. Strong as it is, it appears it is easily killed by a blow on the back with a slight stick. It ranges throughout the greater part of the continent, and is shot or trapped for the sake of its fur, which is of considerable value.

The wolverene, or glutton, carries off the palm for cunning from all the other animals. It is also more ferocious and daring for its size than even the huge grizzly, while for voracity it is unsurpassed. In appearance, it is somewhat similar to a young bear. It is of a brownish-black colour, with a black muzzle and eyes of a dark hue, the space between them being of a brown tint. The paws are also quite black, contrasting with the ivory whiteness of the claws. It possesses large and expanded paws, to enable it to pass over frozen snow; indeed, so large are they, that its footsteps are often mistaken for the tracks of the bear. In one of its habits it resembles Mr Bruin, having the custom, when it finds an animal which it cannot devour at one meal, of carrying off the remainder and hiding it in some secure place.

The glutton moves at a somewhat slow pace, and appears rather deficient in agility; but at the same time he is persevering and determined, and will range over a wide extent of country in search of weak or dying animals, stealing unawares upon hares and birds, etcetera. When he takes a fancy to some larger quadruped as it lies asleep, he springs upon it, tearing open the neck and throat. He is supposed to prefer putrid flesh, and the odour which proceeds from him would lead us to suppose that such is the case. The trappers look upon him with especial hatred, as, with his usual cunning, he seeks out their hoards of provisions incache, and destroys their marten-traps. He himself is so sly that he is seldom caught in a snare. When he finds one, he approaches it from behind, and pulling it to pieces from the outside, carries off the bait. The marten-hunter will go forth and set a line of traps, extending to upwards of forty miles in length or circumference. The wolverene, observing what he is about, follows at a distance, carefully pulling the traps to pieces as he leaves them behind, and eating off the heads of the partridges or other birds which have been used as bait, declining all the time to run his nose into danger. When a sable or marten is entrapped, he tears out the dead animal and carries it away. It is even supposed that he will attack a hibernating bear in his den, and manage to kill him before Bruin has aroused himself sufficiently for his defence.

The wolverene is the fur-trapper’s greatest foe, and, as may be supposed, he has no mercy shown him. The cunning creature, moreover, in spite of his cleverness, sometimes gets caught. Mr Paul Kane, in one of his journeys across the country, had left acachecomposed of logs built together, something like a log-house, but not very closely fitted. Impelled by hunger after a long journey, he and his companion on their way back reached theircache, and began throwing off the heavy logs which covered the top and concealed it. The Indian, hearing a great disturbance within, called to Mr Kane to fetch the guns. Just as he got up, a fine fat wolverene jumped out, but was immediately shot down. The creature must have been starved and desperately thin to have squeezed himself through the openings between the logs, and no doubt, impelled by hunger and the smell of the meat inside, had not thought much of a slight squeeze. When, however, he was once in, and had enjoyed a few good meals, he could not get out again, and the idea of starving himself as long as the meat lasted did not appear to have occurred to him.

The disappointment to the hungry travellers was very great, as but little food was left, and that was mangled, torn, and tossed about in the dirt by the animal.

To obtain a satisfactory sight of the raccoon, we must set out into the forest by torchlight, accompanied by dogs, with fowling-piece in hand. As he remains during the day in some hollow tree, it is rarely we can get a good view of him. Even if by chance found on the ground, he ascends the tree so rapidly, that he is stowed away before our rifle can reach theshoulder. The well-trained dog, however, quickly finds him when roving about the woods at night.

Let us accompany Audubon on a ’coon hunt. Our native companions have gone before with the dogs, who are baying at the raccoon in an open part of the forest. On our coming up, a singular scene presents itself to us. The flare of our torch seems to distress him. His coat is ruffled, and his rounded tail seems thrice its ordinary size. His eyes shine like emeralds. With foaming jaws he watches the dogs, ready to seize by the snout each who comes within reach. His guttural growlings, instead of intimidating his assailants, excite them the more. He seizes one, however, by the lip. It is adangerous proceeding, for, while thus far victorious, the other curs attack him in flank and rear, while their companion yells pitifully. The raccoon will not let go, but the other dogs, seizing him fast, worry him to death. Yet to the last he holds tightly the dog’s lip.

While we stand gazing at the poor animal, all around is, by the flare of the torch, rendered trebly dark and dismal. It is a scene for a skilful painter.

The raccoon is about the same size as a small fox, and though somewhat like it, has also rather an ursine appearance. He has a tufted tail marked with black and white bands. The head tapers somewhat like that of the fox, but the ears are short and slightly rounded, the forehead broad, and the nose sharp. The fore-legs being shorter than the hinder, when he stands the tail end of his body is lifted higher than the front, and consequently his back appears curved. He walks like the dog, putting the tips of his toes to the ground; but when he stops he lays his feet flat.

He receives no mercy from the farmers, for he is of a sanguinary and savage disposition, and commits great havoc among domestic as well as wild birds, always destroying far more than he requires; merely eating off their heads, or lapping up the blood which flows from their wounds. He commits occasionally ravages in sugar-cane or Indian-corn plantations; and, climbing with ease, catches birds, and devours their eggs. He resembles the squirrel in his movements; and, like that animal, when eating, sits on his hind-legs, and uses his fore-feet to carry his food to his mouth. A story is told of a young tame raccoon let loose in a poultry-yard, when, his natural disposition overcoming his civilised manners, he sprang on a cock strutting in a dignified fashion among the hens, and fixed himself on its back. The bird, surprised at so unusual an attack, began scampering round the yard, the hens scattering far and wide in the utmost confusion. Still the little animal kept his seat, till he managed to get hold of the unfortunate cock’s head in his jaws, and before the bird could be rescued, had crunched it up—still keeping his seat, in spite of the dying struggles of his victim; and probably, had he not been bagged, would have treated all the feathered inhabitants of the yard in the same fashion. When out hunting on his own account, he often hides himself among the long reeds on the bank of a lake or stream, and pouncing out on the wild ducks as they swim incautiously by, treats them as he does the domestic fowls on shore.

He partakes considerably of the cunning of the fox, yet, like that animal, is frequently outwitted. A raccoon after a long chase managed to reach a tree, which he quickly climbed, with the aid of his claws, snugly ensconcing himself in the deserted nest of a crow. In vain the hunters sought for him, till his long, annulated tail, which he had forgottento coil up within the nest, was seen pendent below it; and the poor raccoon was quickly brought to the ground by a rifle ball.

He has gained the name of the lotor, or the washer, in consequence of his habit of plunging his dry food into water before eating it. He also drinks a large quantity of water. When moistening his food, he grasps it with both his fore-paws, moving it violently backwards and forwards, as a person does washing clothes in a stream. The German naturalists call him the washing-bear. Though savage and bloodthirsty in his wild state, he is frequently tamed; but he is somewhat capricious in temper, and not easily reconciled when offended. It is curious that he should, when domesticated, change his usual custom of sleeping in the daytime and wandering about at night; but this he does, remaining quiet all night, and making his appearance among the inmates of the house as soon as the sun sheds its light abroad. Though in his wild state a fit member for a temperance society, he will when in captivity, as if to recompense himself for his hard lot, drink fermented liquors of all sorts—the stronger and sweeter the better. An old writer on American animals says, in reference to this propensity, that if taken young it is easily made tame, but “is the drunkenest creature alive, if he can get any liquor that is sweet and strong.” The same writer states that the cunning raccoon often catches crabs by inserting one of his feet into their holes, and dragging them out as soon as they seize hold of it.

In the Southern States we find another species of raccoon, somewhat larger than the former, who is addicted to eating molluscs and crustaceans, whether marine or terrestrial. It is said, also, that when other means fail of obtaining food, he seats himself on a branch hanging low down over some quiet pool, and using his flexible tail as a fishing-line, waits patiently till its end is caught hold of by a snapping turtle or other inhabitant of the water, when, whisking it up, he tears open the creature’s shell and devours the luscious flesh with aldermanic relish. The fur is generally of a blackish-grey hue, washed with a tinge of yellow. A blacker tint prevailson the head, neck, and along the spine. His tail, in proportion to the size of his body, is shorter than that of the common raccoon, and is marked with six black rings, upon a blackish-yellow ground.

When we see the judge seated in his richly trimmed robe of ermine—emblem of purity—or call to mind the regal robes of a proud monarch, we are apt to forget that the fur which we so much admire is but that of the detested stoat, turned white during his abode amid the winter’s snow of a northern clime. He is not unlike the weasel, especially when clothed in his darker summer dress, but with a less ruddy hue. The edges of the ears and the toes always remain white.

He is considerably larger than the weasel, measuring upwards of fourteen inches, including the tail—which is aboutfour inches long, the tip almost black. He is a bold hunter, and follows and destroys the hare, and other animals of equal size. It is said, even, that several together will venture to attack a man. They are caught in America by traps, which, giving the animal a sudden blow, kill it without injuring the skin.

The winter coat of the ermine is produced by the whitening of the fur, and not, as was once supposed, by the substitution of white for dark hairs. Probably one cause of this change of hue may be that the energies of the creature concentrate themselves on the vital organs, to enable it to resist the extreme low temperature of the icy regions it inhabits, and cannot thus spare a sufficient amount of blood for the formation of the colouring matter which tinges the hair. Human beings as well as animals become weaker as they increase in age; and it has been observed that their hair also loses its colour, in consequence of such energies as they possess being required to assist the more important functions of nature. This corroborates the correctness of the former remark.

The ermine, like other species of its genus, has the faculty of ejecting a fluid of a strong musky odour. It is abundant, not only in the barren grounds of the Hudson Bay territories, but is also found in Norway and Siberia.

When the fur is used for robes, or similar purposes, the black tuft at the end of the tail is sewn on at regular distances to the skin, giving to the ermine fur the appearance we are all familiar with.

The pine-marten, a species of weasel, obtains its name from being found amid pine-forests, and from its habit of climbing the trunks of pines in search of prey. It is a fierce and savage creature, choosing to live alone, away from the haunts of man. It is from eighteen to twenty inches in length—with a tail measuring about ten inches—and is covered with long bushy hair. Moving without difficulty among the branches, it seizes many an unfortunate bird in its deadly gripe before its victim can take to flight—robbing also the nest of the eggs within it.

It is common in Europe, as well as in America; but in the cold regions of the Hudson Bay Company it is hunted for the sake of its skin, which is, when blanched during the winter’s cold, scarcely inferior to that of the celebrated sable.

When pursued and overtaken, it stands at bay, exhibiting its teeth, erecting its hair, arching its back, and hissing like a cat. It forms its burrows in the ground, the female producing, a litter of from four to seven. Like other animals of its tribe, it emits a peculiar musky smell.

In winter, along the steep banks of the frozen streams, smooth and shining tracks may be readily detected. They are produced by otters, which have a curious habit of sliding downwards for their amusement—much as human beings are accustomed to do in Canada in their toboggans. To do this, they lie on their bellies, with their fore-legs bent backwards, and giving themselves an impetus with their hind-legs, down they glide, at a swift rate, upon the ice. This sport they will continue for some time, climbing up again to the top of the bank, and repeating the process over and over again. They are also accustomed to pass through the woods from lake to lake, making a direct track in the snow. These tracks are easily known. Then comes a broad trail, as if made by a cart-wheel. This is formed by the animal throwing itself on its belly, and thus sliding along over the surface for several yards. These places are called “otter rubs.”

There are two species of otter in North America—one on the east, and the other on the Pacific slope—differing slightly from each other. The former is considerably larger than that of the Old World, measuring, from the nose to the tip of the tail, sometimes from four and a half to five feet. Like most other water animals, it possesses two sorts of hair: the one is long and shining, and of a rich brown colour, except on the throat, which is of a dusky white; the other is very fine and soft, lying next the skin, and serving to protect it from theextremes of heat and cold. It has excessively sharp, short teeth, which enable it to hold fast the fish, on which it chiefly feeds. Its body is elongated and much flattened, and the tail, which is of great length, is also flat and broad. The legs are short and strong, and so loosely jointed that it can turn them in any direction when swimming.

The habitations of otters are formed in the banks of rivers or lakes, and are not altogether of an artificial character, as they prefer occupying any deserted hollow or natural crevice to the trouble of digging burrows for themselves. Though they are very playful animals, and delight apparently in sport, they are somewhat of a savage disposition, and must be taken very young to be domesticated. They are cautious, timid animals, and can seldom be approached unawares. They eatall sorts of fresh-water fish, such as trout, perch, eels, and suckers; and will also devour frogs. Occasionally they may be observed on a rocky islet of some lone stream, resting after a banquet, or about to plunge into the water in chase of one of the finny tribe, which their keen eyes detect swimming by. They are trapped, in Canada, by steel traps, which are submerged close to the bank below their “rubs.” They make a peculiar whistling sound, which the Indian can imitate perfectly, and thus frequently induces them to approach. Their skins are manufactured into muffs and trimmings and caps, such as are usually worn in winter by Canadians.

An otter, when attacked, will defend itself with desperation, snapping furiously at the Indian, and then shaking its head violently as a dog does when destroying a rat. Their bite is severe—sufficient indeed to snap off a man’s finger—and when once its jaws are closed, no power is capable of making itrelinquish its grasp. The Canadians do not attempt to tame the otter; but the persevering Chinese not only contrive to domesticate the species found in their country, but teach them to capture fish for their benefit.

Rambling amid the woods, even in the neighbourhood of settlements, we may occasionally come upon a curious little animal, with a party-coloured coat and bushy tail, and an amiable and gentle appearance. The creature appears to be in no way timid, and will very likely await our approach. As we draw near it, however, it is apt to turn round and erect its bushy tail perpendicularly. Let us beware of what we are about, for, in a moment, the creature may send over us a shower of a substance so horribly odious, that not only may we be blinded and sickened by the effluvium, but our clothes will be made useless, from the difficulty of getting rid of the odour.

The creature is the skunk, and is about the size of a cat. It possesses short round ears, black cheeks, and a white stripe extending from the nose to the back. The upper part of the neck and the whole back are white, divided by a black line. Below, it is black, as are the legs; and it has a full tail of coarse black hair, occasionally tipped with white. Its legs are short, and it does not possess much activity. Its feet are armed with claws, somewhat like those of the badger.

It appears to use this horrid effluvium—which is generated in glands near the tail—as a means of defence. All other animals have a due horror of it. Anything which it touches is tainted: provisions are destroyed; and clothes, though often washed, will retain the smell for many weeks. At one time this substance was used for medicinal purposes. The mode of defence bestowed on the skunk is somewhat similar to that employed by the cuttle-fish, which emits a dark liquor when pursued. Those who have once smelt the horribly fetid odour of the skunk will not easily forget it.

Still keeping to the lakes and streams, we may often fall in with a creature of curious habits, which, unlike those just described, lives almost entirely among the branches of the trees. In shape it is somewhat like a weasel, and is the largest of the tree martens. It is known as the wood-shock or pekan, and is also called the black cat, and fisher. This last term is inappropriate, as it is not in any way piscivorous. It is of a dark brown hue, with a line of black shining hair reaching from the neck to the extremity of the tail. The under parts are lighter; some entirely white. It possesses also a very large, full, and expressive eye.

Though spending its time among the trees, hunting for its prey, it forms a burrow in the ground for its usual habitation. It lives upon squirrels and rabbits, as well as grouse and other birds and their eggs. Not only does it venture to attack the well-armed porcupine, but it kills the animal, and eats it up, quills and all. The difficulty of accomplishing this appears very great, but there are numerous instances in which pekans have been killed, when their bodies were found full of quills, from which they did not appear to have suffered. They eat up, indeed, both the flesh and bones of the porcupine—the latter being so strong that a small bird cannot crack them. Mr Downs, the naturalist of Nova Scotia, states that he has frequently found porcupine quills in the stomach of the fisher.

The animal is hunted for the sake of its skin, which is of some value—as also for amusement, especially by boys, as the creature is not sufficiently formidable to cause any great danger to them or their dogs. It is about four feet long, including the tail, which measures about eighteen inches.

Another denizen on the shores of the fresh-waters of Canada is the mink, called also the smaller otter, and sometimes known as the water pole-cat. It may be seen swimming about the lakes, preferring generally the still waters in autumn to the more rapidly-flowing currents of spring. It somewhat resembles the otter, and differs in shape slightly from the marten or ferret. Its teeth, however, are more likethose of the pole-cat than the otter; while its tail does not possess the muscular power of the latter animal.

Like the otter, it lives upon fish and frogs, but will occasionally make a marauding expedition into poultry-yards. Its general colour is a dark reddish-brown, approaching in some specimens almost to black on the head; while there is a patch of white, varying in size, under the chin. It is trapped by the settlers both in self-defence and on account of its fur, which is of considerable value, and greatly resembles sable—a good skin often fetching four or five dollars.

The opossum, with its prehensile tail, marsupial pouch, and cunning ways, stands alone for its singularity among all the animals of the American continent. Many of the tribe are found in South America; but the Virginian opossum, the size of a full-grown cat, is larger than all its relatives. The head and body measure about twenty-two inches; and the tail, fifteen. It is covered with a light grey hair of wool-like softness, short on the face and body, but long on the legs. The base end of the tail is thick and black, and is covered with small scales. So powerful is this member that the opossum can hold on with it to the bough of a tree, and even when desperately wounded it does not let go. Its face is long and sharpened, the mouth very determined, and armed with numerous sharp teeth. It has thin, naked, round, and blackish ears, edged with a border of white. It has short legs, the feet being armed with claws, and the interior toes of the hind-feet are flat and rounded.

It has the power of emitting a disagreeable odour when chased or alarmed. When pursued, it makes for the nearest tree; and should it discover the approach of a hunter and his dogs when already up a tree, instead of taking to flight, it lies close along the branch, endeavouring to hide itself. When moving amidst the boughs, it swings itself from branch to branch by means of its tail; and it may be observed at times hanging down, with its eyes wide open, on the look-out for any birds which may incautiously alight on the bough above, or pass within its grasp.

It is very voracious, feeding on small quadrupeds and birds of all sorts; while it does not disdain to prey off a brood of young cotton rats and mice, and devours insects and a variety of reptiles. When unable to find sufficient food in the forest, or too lazy to look for it, it will, without hesitation, make a raid into the farmer’s poultry-yard, and carry off or kill his fowls, and eat up any eggs it may find. The opossum does not always indulge in animal diet,—for he climbs fruit-trees to carry off their luscious productions; and for the sake of obtaining maize, of which he is especiallyfond, he will climb the tallest stems, and bite them across, so as to bring the heavy ear to the ground. He will also clamber to some higher branch, and hang down, in search of the fruit growing on the boughs incapable of bearing his weight.

The quality for which he is chiefly noted is his habit of feigning death. Frequently he is brought to the ground, when there he lies, every limb relaxed, evidently as dead as can be. The knowing hunter will, however, keep his glance on the creature. If he withdraws it for a moment, its eyelids will be seen slowly opening; and should he turn his head for even the shortest space, the creature will be on its feet, stealing away through the underwood. Though so perfectly an adept at “’possuming,” before attempting to practise its usual ruse it will make every effort to escape from its pursuers. When chasedalone by a dog, it will content itself by scrambling up a tree, and sitting quietly on a branch, out of reach, looking down on its canine assailant with contempt as it runs barking furiously below it. The opossum is thus said to be “treed;” and before long, the barking of the dog brings his master to the spot, when the opossum has to fly for its life to the highest branch it can reach. It is easily captured by the rudest style of trap, into which it will walk without hesitation. When “feigning ’possum,” it will submit to be knocked about, and kicked and cuffed, without giving the slightest sign of life. The flesh of the opossum is white, and considered excellent—especially in the autumn, when, after feeding amply on the fruits, beech-nuts, and wild berries, of which it is especially fond, it is very fat.

The female opossum builds a warm nest of dry leaves and moss, sometimes in the hollow of a rotten tree, or beneath its wide-spreading roots. She has been known occasionally to take possession of a squirrel’s nest; and at other times, that of the Florida rat. When her young—generally thirteen to fifteen appearing at a time—are born, they are extremely small—not an inch in length, including the tail—and weighing only four grains. After a couple of weeks or so, she places them in her pouch, when they grow in size and strength, and in about four weeks may be seen with their heads poked out surveying the world, into which they begin to wander at the end of five or six weeks. When first-born, they are the most helpless of little creatures, being both deaf and blind.

The larger number of opossums, however, are to be found in South America, where we shall have an opportunity of further examining them.

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