THE BEAVER

The number and extent of its lakes, scattered throughout the extent of this picturesque province, invariably surprise the visitor to Nova Scotia. Of every variety of size and form, and generally containing groups of little wooded islands, they occupy almost every hollow, and, often connected, stretch away in long chains through the interior, presenting the most charming scenery to those who seek sport or the picturesque through the back country. Lake Rossignol, in the western portion of the province, is the largest; the waters which pass through it rise near Annapolis on the Bay of Fundy, and, accumulating in a long series of lakes, issue from Rossignol as a large river which falls into the Atlantic at the town of Liverpool. By this line of water communication, almost crossing the province, the most secluded recesses of the wild country can be reached by means of the Indian canoe, an easy and delightful mode of progression on the smooth lake, though it involves some danger among the rocks and rapids of the river, which, if insurmountable, entail the “portage,” and a weary tramp, perhaps, through a long stretch of forest with canoe, commissariat, and luggage.

To the eye of the naturalist one of the most interesting points in connection with the chain of lakes referred to is, that on their banks are the houses of the few families of beaver left in the province; for though their works and the fruit of their labours attest their presence formerly in every direction, not a beaver exists from the Port Medway River — a few miles eastward of the Rossignol waters—and the eastern end of Cape Breton. This animal was formerly abundant throughout the British Provinces, and a large portion of the United States, from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast, and would ere this have totally disappeared from the maritime provinces, but for the caprice of fashion in hats which, substituting silk for the beaver-nap, arrested its destruction, and thereby, as Mr. Marsh suggests, in “ Man and Nature/' involved possible alterations in the physical features of a continent. Nova Scotia abounds in all the conditions necessary to its existence—rivers, brooks and swampy lakes—and its former abundance is attested by the prevalence of such names as “Beaverbank" “Beaver Harbour" and the numerous “Beaver Lakes" and “Beaver Rivers" scattered round the Province. The market being so near, and its haunts so accessible and easy of observation, it is surprising that its extermination in this part of America has not been long since effected. Indeed, the animal now appears to be on the increase.

In past times, undoubtedly, the beaver has had much to do with the formation of the “wild meadows" as they are locally termed, which are of frequent occurrence in the backwoods, and from which the settler draws plentiful supplies for feeding Lis stock in winter, and the following was evidently the process. Wherever a brook trickled through a valley, the beaver would bar its course by its strong compact dam, thus securing sufficient backwater to form a pond, on the edge of which to build its dome-shaped house. Large spaces in the woods thus became inundated, the drowned trees fell and decayed, and freshets brought accessions of soil from the hills. At length the pond filled up, and the colony migrated, or were exterminated. The water drained through the unrepaired dam; and on the fine alluvial soil exposed, sprang up those rich waving fields of wild grass, monuments of the former industry of the beaver, and now a source of profit to its thankless destroyers.

To return, however, to Lake Rossignol and its beavers. Attracted thither by the charms of a canoe voyage on the lakes at the commencement of the glorious fall, and anxious to inspect the houses and dams of these curious animals, we hired our two frail barks and the services of three Indians at the town of Liverpool, Nova Scotia, and, avoiding the ascent of the rapid river as too arduous a mode of access, sent canoes and luggage by a cross road to a line of waters which flowed evenly into the great lake, and where we embarked for our explorations. The following notes from my Camp Journal will give a narration of our observations and progress :—:

“August 28.

We Encamped comfortably in a cove of the second lake of the Rossignol Chain, which was reached late in the evening, vid the Sixteen-Mile Lakes, where the canoes were embarked. The unwonted exercise of the first long days paddling has somewhat unsteadied the hand for writing up the notes. The scenery on the above-named lakes very pretty, and the water in good order for canoeing, a light breeze following us and cooling the air. Lunched on an island, and, leaving the lakes, entered a small rapid stream. Here the shade of the maples, which completely overhung the brook, was most grateful, and the light green of the sunlit foliage reflected in the water, with masses of king-fern, and a variety of herbaceous plants growing luxuriously on the banks, grey rock boulders with waving crowns of polypodium rising from the stream, and reflected on its smooth though swiftly-gliding surface, and the moss-covered stems of fallen trees which continually bridged it over, formed an ever-changing panorama, which evoked many expressions of delight as we quietly glided down the brook—a beautiful realisation of Tennyson's idyll. The water was clear as crystal, and covered golden gravel, and there were frequent c silvery water-breaks/ caused by trout jumping at the multitudes of small blue and green ephemerae which danced above. Here we first saw the works of beaver. Pointing towards the bank, on suddenly rounding a turn in the brook, our head Indian Glode whispered, "There beaver-house" and we held by a projecting rock to examine the structure for a few moments. I confess I was disappointed. Instead of the regular mud-plastered dome I had expected and seen depicted in all works of natural history, the house appeared merely as an irregular pile of barked sticks, very broad at the base compared with its height, and looking much like a gigantic crows nest inverted, and formed without any apparent design. It was in present occupation, for the tall surrounding fern was beaten down all around. "All pretty much same" said Glode in answer to our question, as we again dropped down the stream. Presently the rippling of water ahead showed a slight fall, and on arriving at the spot the bow of the canoe grated on submerged bushes. It was the dam—always placed below—belonging to the house, and was evidently in course of construction, a process which we were unavoidably compelled to defer, by standing on a flat rock, and, hauling out bushes by the armful, to open a passage for the canoes. Several other houses were passed, at intervals, of about a quarter of a mile, all similar in appearance, and some of great size. Our anxiety to get to the big lake prevented us, however, from examining the structure closely. On this brook I first saw the blossoms and tendrils of a beautiful climbing plant which grew up luxuriantly amongst the bushes, and encircled small stems to a considerable height—the Indian potato-plant (Apios tuberosa)—one of the sources of food used by the old Indians before they left the woods and their forest fare for the neighbourhood of civilization, and adopted its food, clothing, and depraving associations. The flowers are like those of the sweet pea, and arranged in a whorl, possessing a pleasant though rather faint smell. The cluster of bulbs at its foot, called potatoes, are of about the average size of small new potatoes, and have a flavour like a chestnut.”

Two or three miles further, through an open country covered with the bleached stems of a burnt forest, brought us to the middle lake of the Rossignol Chain, which we quickly crossed to camp.

On the following, afternoon we entered Rossignol after some rather stiff paddling. Two large lakes, affording no shelter of rocks or islands, were crossed in the teeth of a strong breeze, and the bows of our canoes were frequently overtopped by the waves. For security the paddlers crouched in the bottom instead of sitting, as is usual, on the thin strips of ash which constitute the thwarts in the bow and stern. Perfect in symmetry, and capable of conveying four persons, the canoes were of the smallest construction compatible with safety on the rapid river or its broad lakes. They were eighteen feet in length, and weighed but sixty pounds each. From an end-on point of view, the paddlers seemed supported by almost nothing—the bark sides projecting but a few inches beyond the breadth of their bodies, and the gunwale nearly flush with the water. But we were “old hands," and were determined to camp that night on the big lake ; and the light barks, impelled by strokes which made the handles of the paddles bend like reeds, forged ahead through chopping seas till we reached the shelter of the rocky islands at the foot of Lake Rossignol. Here the lakes were connected by a rapid run, where, beaching the canoes, we enjoyed capital trouting for a couple of hours—killing over five dozen fish averaging one pound —and dined on shore, picking a profuse dessert of blue and huckle berries. A glorious view was unfolded as we left the run and entered the still water of the lake. The breeze fell rapidly with the sun, and enabled us to steer towards the centre, from which alone the size of the lake could be appreciated, owing to the number of its islands. These were of every imaginable shape and size—from the grizzly rock bearing a solitary stunted pine, shaggy with Usnea, to those of a mile in length, thickly wooded with maple, beech, and birches, now wearing the first pure tints of autumnal colour. From near its centre was unfolded a view of the greatest expanse of water. The distant shores were enveloped in haze, but appeared fringed with a dark fir forest to the water’s edge. Here and there a bright spot of white sand formed a beach tempting for a disembarkation; and frequent sylvan scenes of an almost fairy-land character opened up as we coasted along the shores—little harbours almost closed-in from the lake, overgrown with water-lilies, arrow-heads, and other aquatic plants, with mossy banks backed by bosky groves of hemlocks; cool retreats which the soft moss covering the soil, and the perfect shade of the dense foliage overhead, indicated as most desirable spots for camping. The wild cry of the loon resounded all over the lake, and mergansers and black ducks wheeled overhead as they left their feeding-grounds for their accustomed resting-places. Only one sight reminded us of civilization. On the crest of a distant hill, the rays of the setting sun lighted on a little patch of cleared ground and glanced on the window of a solitary dwelling. Our Indians said it was a settler’s house in New Caledonia, on the forest road from Liverpool to Annapolis.

Warned at length by the mellowing light which seemed to blend lake and sky into one, we steered the canoes into a sheltered cove, and lighted our first camp fire on the shores of Lake Rossignol. This was our headquarters ; and here for a week we gave ourselves up to the dreamy pleasures of a life in the woods. Our easy mode of travel enabling us to take every desirable luxury, we ate our trout with Worcester sauce, and baked our bread in an Indian oven; we fished in the runs, bathed in the sandy coves, visited and were visited by the lumberers, who were rafting their logs down to the sea, and made frequent excursions up the affluent waters of the lake in search of beavers and their works. With regard to the latter, I will here again introduce a few pages of my journal:—

“August 30th.

“A bright morning, very hot. After breakfast ascended the Tobiaduc stream at the north-west end of the lake. Here the scenery becomes very beautiful. The river is broad and still; the woods on either side much inundated; and the maple brightly coloured with orange and scarlet—probably more from unhealthiness produced by the high water than by early frosts. Pass some exquisite island scenery; the reflections perfect. A snake swims across under the bows of my canoe, its head carried an inch above the surface. Passing a steep bank, a beaver rushes out of a dense patch of king-fern, and takes to the water with a plunge ; and we follow his track, faintly indicated on the surface, towards an old beaver-house a few rods up stream. ‘ I heard him dove/ observed Glode, on arriving: the animal had mistrusted the strength of his fortress; and pursuit was hopeless.

“Five or six miles from the lake, we come to the carrying place or portage, whence a woodland path leads by a short cut to Tobiaduc lake, and saves many a mile of heavy poleing against the rapids of the river. The road lay through a dark mossy forest of hemlocks, soft and pleasant walking when unencumbered by loads, but very fatiguing under the weight of canoes and all the paraphernalia of a camp. ‘Indian mile, long and narrer' drily observed old Glode, on our casual inquiry as to how much further we had to trudge. The forest gloom at length lightens, and the gleam of water ahead brings us to the Tobiaduc lakes, where a couple of ruffed grouse, shot en route, were cooked d la spatch-cock, and we dined on a service of birch-bark dishes.

“Late in the afternoon, our canoes, leaving the lakes, entered the Tobiaduc brook, a picturesque stream similar to the sixteen-mile brook before mentioned. The lovely scenery of these forest streams must be seen to be fully appreciated. The foliage in spots is almost tropical-wild vines and creepers crowd the water’s edge, with towering clumps of royal fern (Osmunda regalis); airy groves of birches with stems of purest white are succeeded by fir-woods, under which the graceful moose-wood and swamp maple brighten the gloom as their broad leaves catch the sunlight ; the pigeon berry (Cornus canadensis) bedizens the moss with its well-contrasting clumps of scarlet berries ; and great boulders of grey rock, circled over with concentric lichens, moss covered, and their crannies filled with pollypods and oak-fern, overhang the water in stern and solitary grandeur. Every rock projecting from the stream is seized upon by moss, whence grow a few ferns or seedling maples ; and the play of the sunlight as it breaks through the arched foliage above and lights up these little groups produces most exquisite effects. This is the home of the beaver and the kingfisher. The ferns and grasses on the banks are trodden down by the former in its paths, and the latter flits from bush to bush with loud rattling screams as the canoe invades its piscatorial domains.

BEAVER-DAM ON THE TOBIADUC.

“At length there was an obstruction in the stream over which the waters fell evenly. It was a beaver-dam—a solid construction of interwoven bushes and poles, damming up the water behind to a height of between three and four feet, and completely altering the features of the brook, which from this point was all still water. We landed on the top to open out a portion, and thereby facilitate the canoes being lifted over. Some of the work was quite fresh, and green leaves tipped the ends of projecting branches; whilst on the shore lay a pile of water-rotted material that had been removed, and evidently considered unserviceable. Stones and mud were plentifully intermixed with the bushes, which were mostly cut into lengths of twelve to eighteen feet, and woven together across the stream. The top, which would support us all without yielding, was about two feet broad, and the dam thickened below the surface. Some stout bushes leaned against the construction in front. They were planted in the bed of the stream; and, as Glode said, were used as supports in making the dam. Above was a long meadow of wild grass to which the white gaunt stems of dead pines, drowned ages since by the heightened level of the stream, imparted a desolate appearance, and near the head of which the beavers had their habitations.”

This dam, and one or two others which I had an opportunity of observing, was built straight across the stream, but it is a well authenticated fact that in larger works, where the channel is broader, and liable to heavy waters, the dam is made convex to the current. Sometimes a small island in the centre is taken advantage of, and the dam built out to it from either bank, as instanced by a very large one noticed on the Sable river, a few miles west of Rossignol, where the sticks used in its construction were often three inches in diameter, and the country above, on either side, flooded to the extent of nearly two feet, covering about one thousand acres of meadow land. These dams possess great strength and durability. In old and deserted works trees spring from the soil, which is plentifully mixed with the brushwood and grass covers the embankment.1 Many such monuments of the former labours of the beaver are to be seen in Nova Scotia, in districts long since untenanted.

As the beaver residing on the lakes docs not build a dam in the vicinity of his dwelling, the reason of the strong instinct implanted in this animal to produce these marvellous constructions under other circumstances becomes apparent. Whenever, from the situation or nature of the water, there is a probability of the supply becoming shortened by drought, and to ensure sufficient water to enter his dwelling from beneath the ice in winter, the beaver constructs a dam below to maintain the supply of water necessary to meet either of these contingencies. In former years, when beaver abounded in all parts of the Province, it is evident from the numerous beaver meadows now left dry, that they took advantage not only of valleys traversed by small brooks, but even of swampy lands occasionally inundated by heavy rains.

The beaver-house is constructed of the same materials as the dam. Branches of trees and bushes, partially trimmed and closely interwoven, are mixed with stones, gravel or mud, according to the nature of the soil; and on the outside are strewed the barked sticks of willow, poplar, or birch, on which the animal feeds. As before stated, it looks like a huge bird’s nest, turned upside down, and is generally located in the grassy coves of lakes, by the edge of still-water runs or of artificial ponds, and, less frequently, by a river side, where a bend or jutting rocks afford a deep eddying pool near the bank. The house rests on the bank, but always overlaps the water, into which the front part is immersed; and, as a general rule, the bottom of the stream or lake is deepened in the channel approaching the entrance by dredging, thereby ensuring a free passage below the ice. In these channels or canals, easily found by probing with the paddle, the hunter sets his iron spring-traps. The following passages from my camp notes describe the construction of the beaver-house, as shown in all the habitations which we examined in these waters :—

“Foot of Rossignol, September 4.

“Camped on a beautiful spot, the effluence of the river from the lake, in Indian parlance, the ‘segedwick' always a favourite camping ground. It was a decided oak opening, an open grove of white oaks, with a soft sward underneath; the trees were grouped as in a park.

A few low islands covered with ferns partially broke the breadth of the river, which here left the smooth expanses of the lake on its race to the Atlantic, about twenty miles below; and here our rods bent incessantly over the struggles of trout, frequently two at a time. We intend staying here several days to rest after the long weary journey up and down the Tobiaduc stream; and as it is now September, a brace or two of ruffed grouse, or even a moose steak, may add to our hitherto scanty forest fare of porcupine and trout. Beneath these white oaks repose the sires of the Micmacs of this district; it was once a populous village, of which the only remaining tokens are the swelling mounds covered with fern, and the plentiful bones, the produce of the chase, scattered over the ground. Our canoe-men seemed quite subdued, perhaps a little overcome by superstitious awe on pitching our camp here on the site of their ancestors’ most favoured residence. With a road through to the town of Liverpool, this lovely spot will one day, ere long, become a thriving settlement. I would desire no more romantic retreat were I to become a settler; but always bear in mind the lesson inculcated for all intending military settlers who may be carried away by their enthusiasm for the picturesque scenery of the summer and fall in Nova Scotia, to try their ]uck away back from civilization, in the well-told and pathetic story of ‘ Cucumber Lake/ by Judge Haliburton. To-day Glode and I walked back from the lake about three miles, through thick woods, to see a beaver-house on a brook of which he knew. We found it without difficulty, as the grass and fern for some distance below was much trodden down, and proceeded to make a careful investigation of its structure. Its site was a dismal one. The surrounding forest had been burnt ages since, for there was no charcoal left on the stems, which were bleached and hard as adamant. A few alders, swamp maples, and briers fringed the brook, the banks of which were overgrown with tall grass, flags, and royal fern. Moose had recently passed through, browsing on the juicy stems of the red maples. It was a large house ; its diameter at the water line nearly eighteen feet, and it was nearly five feet in height. On the outside the sticks were thrown somewhat loosely, but, as we unpiled them and examined the structure more closely, the work appeared better, the boughs laid more horizontally, and firmly bound in with mud and grass. About two feet from the top we unroofed the chamber, and presently disclosed the interior arrangements.

“The chamber—there was but one—was very low, scarcely two feet in height, though about nine feet in diameter. It had a gentle slope upwards from the water, the margin of which could be just seen at the edge. There were two levels inside, one, which we will term the hall, a sloping mudbank on which the animal emerges from the subaqueous tunnel and shakes himself, and the other an elevated bed of boughs ranged round the back of the chamber, and much in the style of a guard-bed— i.e., the sloping wooden trestle usually found in a military guard-room. The couch was comfortably covered with lengths of dried grass and rasped fibres of wood, similar to the shavings of a toy-broom. The ends of the timbers and brushwood, which projected inwards, were smoothly gnawed off all round. There were two entrances—the one led into the water at the edge of the chamber and let in the light, the other went down at a deeper angle into black water. The former was evidently the summer entrance, the latter being used in winter to avoid the ice. The interior was perfectly clean, no barked sticks (the refuse of the food) being left about. These were all distributed on the exterior, a fact which accounts for the bleached appearance of many houses we have seen. In turning over the materials of the house, I picked up several pieces of wood of but two or three inches in length, which from their shortness puzzled me as to the wherefore of so much trouble being taken by the beaver for so (apparently) small a purpose. My Indian, however, enlightened me. The side on which a young tree is intended to fall is cut through, say two-thirds, the other side one-third, and a little above. The tree slips off the stem, but will not fall prostrate, owing to the intervention of branches of adjacent trees. So the beaver has to gnaw a little above to start it again, exactly on the plan adopted by the lumberer in case of a catch amongst the upper branches, when the impetus of another slip disengages the whole tree. The occupants of the house were out for the day, as they generally are throughout the summer, being engaged in travelling up and down the brooks, and cutting provisions for the winter’s consumption. Returning to camp by another route through the woods, we had to cross a large wild meadow now inundated — a most disagreeable walk through long grass, the water reaching above the knees. At the foot, where Glode said a little sluggish brook ran out, we found a beaver-dam in process of construction— the work quite fresh, and accounting for the inundation of the meadow above.”

“September 5.

“Glode and I tried creeping moose, back in the woods, this morning, but without success. No wind and an execrable country; all windfalls and thick woods, or else burnt barrens. Follow fresh tracks of an enormous bull, but are obliged to leave them for want of a breeze to cloak our somewhat noisy advance amongst the tall huckleberry bushes. Indians are particularly averse to starting game when there is no chance of killing. It scares the country unnecessarily. Disturb a bear revelling amongst the berries, and hear him rush off in a thick swamp. Lots of bear signs everywhere in these woods. In the evening proceed up the lake with one of the canoes. The water calm, and a most lovely sunset. Passing a dark grove of hemlocks, we hear two young bears calling to one another with a sort of plaintive moan. The old ones seldom cry out, being too knowing and ever on the watch. At the head of a grassy cove stood a large beaver-house ; and, as it was now the time of day for the animals to swim round and feed amongst the yellow water-lilies, we concealed ourselves and canoe amongst the tall grass for the purpose of watching. But for the mosquitoes, which attacked us fiercely, it was a most enjoyable evening. The gorgeous sunset reflected in the lake vied with the shadows of the crim-: son • maples; and every bank of woods opposed to the sun was suffused with a rich orange hue. The still air bore to our ears the sound of a fall into the lake, some three miles away, as if it were close by, and the cry of the loon resounded in every direction. Wood-ducks and black ducks flew past in abundance, and within easy range of our hidden guns ; and long diverging trails in the mirror-like surface showed the passage of otter or muskrats over the lake. Presently the water broke some sixty yards from us, and the head and back of a beaver showed above the surface, whilst another appeared almost simultaneously farther off. After a cautious glance around, the animal dived again with a roll like that of a porpoise, reappearing in a few minutes. He was feeding on the roots of the yellow lilies (Nuphar advena). Probably three minutes elapsed during each visit to the bottom. Taking advantage of one of these intervals, the Indians pushed the canoe from the concealment of the grass, and with a few noiseless yet vigorous strokes of the paddle made towards the spot where we supposed the animal would rise. As the head reappeared,

*we let fly with the rifle, but missed the game, the report echoing from island to island, and evoking most discordant yells from the loons far and near. Of course we had seen all that was to be seen of the animals for the night; ‘and so,’ as Mr. Pepys would say, ‘disconsolate back to camp ”

During the excursion we had opportunities of examining many beaver-houses, placed in every variety of situation —by the lake shore, by the edge of sluggish “ still waters," on the little forest brook, or on the brink of the rapid river. They all presented a similar appearance—equally rough externally, and all similarly constructed inside. Neither could we observe anything like a colony of beavers, their houses grouped in close proximity, as so frequently noticed by travellers. The beaver of Eastern. America appears, indeed, quite unsociable in comparison with his brethren of the West. We saw none but isolated dwellings either on lake or river-shore, and these placed at several hundred yards apart from each other.

With respect to the number of animals living together in the same house, our Indians, who had lived in this neighbourhood and hunted beaver from their youth, corroborated the fact, often stated by naturalists, of three generations living together—the old pair, the last progeny, and the next eldest (they generally have two at a birth); the latter leaving every summer to set up for themselves.

At the time of our visit the beavers were returning from the summer excursions up and down the rivers, and setting to work to repair damages both to houses and dams. This work is invariably carried on during the night; and the following is the modus operandi:—Repairing to the thickets and groves skirting the lake, the beaver, squatting on his hams, rapidly gnaws through the stems of trees of six or even twelve inches diameter, with its powerful incisors. These are again divided, and dragged away to the house or dam. The beaver now plunges into the water, and brings up the mud and small stones from the bottom to the work in progress, carrying them closely under the chin in its fore paws. The vulgar opinion that the broad tail of the beaver was used to plaster down the mud in its work, has long since been pronounced as erroneous. Its real use is evidently to counterpoise, by an action against the water in an upward direction, the tendency to sink head foremost (which the animal would otherwise have) when propelling itself through the water by its powerful and webbed hind feet, and at the same time supporting the load of mud or stones in its fore paws under the chin. Our Indians laughed at the idea of the trowel story. That, and the assertion that the tail is likewise used as a vehicle for materials, may be considered as exploded notions.

The food of the beaver consists of the bark of several varieties of willow, of poplar, and birch; they also feed constantly during summer on the roots and tendrils of the yellow pond lily (Nuphar advena). They feed in the evening and throughout the night. For winter supplies the saplings of the above-mentioned trees are cut into lengths of two or three feet, and planted in the mud outside the house. Lengths are brought in and the bark devoured in the hall, never on the couch, and when peeled, the sticks are towed outside and used in the spring to repair the house.

The house is approached from the water by long trenches, hollowed out to a considerable depth in the bottom of the lake or brook. In these are piled their winter stock of food, short lengths of willow and poplar, which, if left sticking in the mud at the ordinary level of the bottom below the surface, would become impacted in the ice. The beaver travels a long distance from his house in search of materials, both for building and food. I saw the stumps of small trees, which had been felled at least three-quarters of a mile from the house. Their towing power in the water, and that of traction on dry land, is astonishing. The following is rather a good story of their coolness and enterprise, told me by a friend, who was a witness to the fact. It occurred at a little lake near the head waters of Roseway river. 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 nearest the camps, and about a quarter of a mile from the nearest beaver 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 houses. There, to his astonishment, was one of the poles, coolly deposited on the top of a house.

Besides the house, the beaver has another place of residence in the summer, and of retreat in the winter, should his house be broken into. In the neighbourhood of the house long burrows, broad enough for the beaver to turn in with ease, extend from ten to twenty feet in the bank, and have their entrance at a considerable depth below the surface of the water. To these they invariably fly when surprised in their houses.

One of the principal causes which have so nearly led to the extermination of the beaver, was the former demand for the castoreum, and the discovery that it could be used as an unfailing bait for the animal itself. This substance is contained in two small sacs near the root of the tail, and is of an orange colour. Now seldom employed in pharmacology for its medicinal properties (stimulant and anti-spasmodic), being superseded by more modern discoveries, it is still used in trapping the animal, as the most certain bait in existence.'* It is said

*Erman thus notices it in his Siberian travels:—“There is hardly any drug which recommends itself to man so powerfully by its impression on the external senses as this. The Ostyaks were acquainted with its virtues from the earliest times; and it was related here (Obdorsk) that they keep a supply of it in every yurt, that the women may recover their strength more quickly after child-birth. In like manner the Kosaks and Russian traders have exalted the beaver-stone into a panacea.

“To the sentence ‘God arose, and our enemies were scattered' the Siberians add, very characteristically, the apocryphal interpolation, ‘and we are free from head-ache.’ To ensure this most desirable condition, every one to be likewise efficacious in trapping the wild cat, which is excessively fond of the odour. Mr. Thompson, a Canadian writer, thus speaks of it:—“A few years ago the Indians of Canada and New Brunswick, on seeing the steel trap so successful in catching foxes and other animals, thought of applying it to the beaver, instead of the awkward wooden traps they made, which often failed. At first they were set in the landing paths of the beaver, with about four inches of water over them, and a piece of green aspen for a bait, that would allure it to the trap. Various things and mixtures of ingredients were tried without success; but chance made some try if the male could not be caught by adding the castoreum, beat up with the green buds of the aspen. A piece of willow about eight inches in length, beat and bruised fine, was dipped in this mixture. It was placed at the water edge about a foot from the steel trap, so that the beaver should pass direct over it and be caught. This trap proved successful; but, to the surprise of the Indians, the females were caught as well as the males. The secret of this bait was soon spread; every Indian procured from the trader four to six steel traps; all labour was now at an end, and the hunter moved about with pleasure, with his traps and infallible bait of castoreum. Of the infatuation of this animal for castoreum I saw several instances. A trap was negligently fastened by its small chain to the stake, to prevent the beaver taking away the trap when caught; it slipped, and the beaver swam away with the trap, and it was looked upon as lost. Two nights after has recourse, at home or on his travels, and with the firmest faith, to two medicines, and only two, viz., beaver-stone, or beaver efflux as it is here called, and salammoniac.”

he was taken in a trap, with the other trap 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. We concluded that he would not come again ; but two nights afterwards he was found fast in a trap, in every case tempted by the castoreum. The stick was always licked or sucked clean, and it seemed to act as a soporific, as they always remained more than a day without coming out of their houses.’

And yet the beaver is an exceedingly wary animal, possessing the keenest sense of smell. In setting the large iron traps, without teeth, which are generally used in Nova Scotia, and placed in the paths leading from the house to the grove where he feeds, so careful must be the hunter not to leave his scent on the spot, that he generally cuts down a tree and walks on its branches towards the edge of the path, afterwards withdrawing it, and plentifully sprinkling water around.

The presence of the beaver in his snow-covered house is readily detected by the hunter in winter by the appearance (if the dwelling is tenanted) of what is called the “ smoke hole,” a funnel-shaped passage formed by the warm vapour ascending from the animals beneath.

With regard to specific distinction of the beavers of America, Europe, and Asia, the remarks of Professor Baird, of the Smithsonian Institute, in his report of the mammals of the Pacific railroad routes, summing up the evidence of naturalists on the comparative anatomy of the Castors of the Old and New Worlds, appear worthy of note as establishing a satisfactory result.

The question has been elaborately discussed, and the results of many comparisons show considerable difference of arrangement of bones of the skull, a slight difference as regards size and colour, and an important one as regards both the form of the castoreum glands, and the composition of the castoreum itself, Professor Owen, Bach, and others agreeing on a separation of species.2 Hence, instead of being termed Castor Fiber (Var. Ameri-canus), the American Beaver now, (and but recently), is designated as Castor Canadensis, so termed rather than C. Americanus, from the prior nomenclature of Kuhl.

THE MUSK RAT
 (Fiber Zibethicus of Cuvier)

is so like a miniature beaver, both in conformation and habit, that Linnaeus was induced to class it amongst the Castors. Like that of the latter animal its tail is flattened, though vertically and to a much less extent, and is proportionally longer. It is oar-shaped, whilst the form of the beaver’s tail has been aptly compared to the tongue of a mammal. Both animals have the same long and lustrous brown-red hair, with a thick undercoat of soft, downy fur, which, in the musk rat, is of a blueish gray or ashes colour, in the beaver ferruginous. The little sedge-built water hut of the rat is similarly constructed to the beaver’s dome of barked sticks and brushwood, and both have burrows in the banks of the river side as summer resorts.

The range of the musk rat throughout North America is co-extensive with the distribution of the beaver, and it still continues plentiful in Eastern America in spite of the immense numbers of skins exported every year. The Indians are ever on the look-out for them on the banks of the alluvial rivers entering the Bay of Fundy, in which they especially abound, and in every settler’s barn may be seen their jackets expanded to dry.

Their little flattened oval nests, composed of bents and sedges, are of frequent occurrence by lake margins; and very shallow grassy ponds are sometimes seen dotted with them quite thickly. On the muddy banks of rivers their holes are as numerous as those of the European water-rat, the entrance just under the surface of the water, and generally marked by a profusion of the shells of the fresh-water mussel. They are vegetable feeders, with, I believe, this solitary exception, though I am sorry to have to record, from my own experience, that cannibalism is a not unfrequent trait when in confinement.

To the canoe-voyageur, or the fisherman on the forest-lakes, the appearance of the musk rat, sailing round in the calm water on the approach of sunset, when in fine summer weather the balmy west wind almost invariably dies away and leaves the surface with faithful reflections of the beautiful marginal foliage of the woods, is one of the most familiar and pleasing sights of nature. Coming forth from their home in some shady, lily-bearing cove, they gambol round in the open lake in widening circles, apparently fearless of the passing canoe, now and then diving below the surface for a few seconds, and reappearing with that grace and freedom from splash, on leaving and regaining the surface, which characterise the movements both of this animal and of the beaver.

Travelling down the Shubenacadie and other gently-running forest-streams in day-time, I have often seen them crossing and re-crossing the surface in the quiet reaches through dark overhanging woods, carrying in their mouths pieces of bracken, probably to feed on the stem, though it seemed as if to shade themselves from the sunbeams glancing through the foliage.

The Micmac calls this little animal “Kewesoo" and is not impartial to its flesh, which is delicate, and not unlike that of rabbit.

I have heard of a worthy Catholic priest who most conveniently adopted the belief that both beaver and musk rat were more of a fishy than a fleshy nature, and thus mitigated the rigours of a fast-day in the backwoods by a roasted beaver-tail or savoury stew. By the Indians of Nova Scotia or New Brunswick the flesh of the former animal is rarely tasted, but to the wilder hunters of Newfoundland it is the primest of forest meats. The musk rat will readily swim up to the call of the hunter—a sort of plaintive squeak made by chirping with the lips applied to the hollow of closed hands.

The acclimatisation of both these rodents in England has been frequently advocated of late. In the case of the beaver, which in historic times was an inhabitant of Wales and Scotland, according to Giraldus, its introduction must be at the expense of modem cultivation, from its tendency to destroy surrounding growths of young forest trees, and to make ponds and swamps of lands already drained. The musk rat, I am inclined to think, in concurrence with Mr. Crichton’s opinion, would prove a valuable addition to the bank fauna of sluggish English streams.

I have thus classed together as true lake dwellers these two first-cousins, as they appear to be, the beaver and the musk rat, yet, as the heading is somewhat fanciful, and my object is to notice the water-frequenting mammalia of the woods, I will proceed to mention other animals which prowl round the margins of lakes or brooks, more or less taking to the water, under the sub-divisional title of “dwellers by lake shores.”

THE OTTER
of Eastern America (Lutra Canadensis),

(there is a distinct species found on the Pacific slope,) differs from the European animal in colour, size, and conformation. The former is much the darkest coloured, a peculiarity attached to many North American mammals when compared with their Old-World congeners. It is also the largest. Taken per se, but slight importance would attach to such variations; and it is on the grounds of well-ascertained osteological differences only that the separation of species in the case of both the beaver and the otter of America has been agreed on. '

The Canadian otter measures from nose to tip of tail, in a large specimen, between four and a-half and five feet; its colour is a dark chestnut brown or liver, and its fur is very close and lustrous. Under the throat and belly it is lighter, approaching to tawny. The breeding season is in February and early March (of wild cat and fox, ibid), and the she otter brings forth in May a litter of three or four pups. The clear whistle of the otter is a very common sound to the ear of the occupant of a fishing camp, and the Indians frequently call them up by successful imitation of their note. The skin is valuable and much sought after in the manufacture of muffs, trimmings, and especially of the tall ornamental fur caps generally worn as part of the winter costume in Canada. The price of the skin varies according to season, good ones bringing from four to six dollars each.

They are most frequently taken in winter by traps— dead-falls placed over little forest brooks trickling between lakes, and steel-traps submerged at a hand's depth close to the bank, where they come out from under the ice to their paths and “rubs." These resorts are readily detected by the tracks and stains on the snow, and the smooth, shining appearance of the frozen bank where they indulge in their curious amusement of sliding down, after the manner of the pastime termed in Canada “trebogining.” Even in confinement the animal is full of sport, and gambols like a kitten. The term “otter-rub ” is applied to the place where they enter and leave the water, from their habit of rubbing themselves, like a dog, against a stump or root on emerging from the water. The otter is a very wary animal, and I have rarely come upon and shot them unawares, though in cruising up and down runs in a canoe in spring I have often seen their victims, generally a goodly trout, deserted on hearing the dip of our paddles, and still floundering on the ice. Freshwater fish, including trout, perch, eels and suckers, form their usual food; they will also eat frogs. They have paths through the woods from lake to lake, often extending over a very considerable distance, and the shortest cuts that could be adopted—a regular bee-line. Their track on the snow is most singular. After a yard or two of foot impressions there comes a long, broad trail, as if made by a cart-wheel, where the animal must have thrown itself on its belly and slid along the surface for several yards.

THE FISHER,
Black Cat, or Pecan (Mustela Pen-nantii),

the largest of the tree martens, a somewhat fox-like weasel, which lives almost constantly in trees, is another dweller by lake shores, though not in the least aquatic in its habits, and, not being piscivorous, quite unentitled to the name first given. Its general colour is dark brown with uncertain shades, a dorsal line of black, shining hair reaching from the neck to the extremity of the tail. The hair underneath is fighter, with several patches of white. The eye is very large, full and expressive.

The skin possesses about the same value as that of the otter. Squirrels, birds and their eggs, rabbits and grouse, contribute to its support. The Indians all agree as to its alleged habit of attacking and killing the porcupine. “ The Old Hunter ” informs me that “ it is a well-known fact that the fisher has been often—very often—trapped with its skin and flesh so filled with quills of this animal that it has been next to an impossibility to remove the felt from the carcass. In my wanderings in the woods in winter time, I have three times seen, where they have killed porcupine, nothing but blood, mess, and quills, denoting that Mr. F. had partaken of his victim’s flesh. I searched, but could not find any place where portions of the animal might have been hidden; this would have been a circumstance of course easy to ascertain on the snow. Now what could have become of that formidable fighting tail and the bones? I know that a small dog can neither crack the latter, nor those of the beaver.”

Mr. Andrew Downs, the well-known Nova Scotian practical naturalist, says he has often found porcu-pine-quills in the fishers stomach on skinning the animal.

The fisher is becoming rare in the forests of Acadie. According to Dr. Gilpin, a hundred and fifty to two hundred is the usual annual yield of skins in Nova Scotia, and these chiefly come from the Cobequid range of hills in Cumberland.

The length of the animal, tail included, is from forty to fifty inches, of which the tail would, be about eighteen.

THE MINK
(Putorius vison, Aud. and Bach.)

is much more a water-side frequenter than the last described animal, and indeed is quite aquatic in its habits, being constantly seen swimming in lakes like the otter, which it somewhat resembles in its taste for fish and frogs. The mink has, moreover, a strong propensity to maraud poultry yards, and is trapped by the settler, not->only in self-defence, but also on account of the two, three, or even five dollars obtainable for a good skin. The general colour is dark, reddish-brown, and the fur is much used for caps, boas and muffs. It is a rich and beautiful fur, finer though shorter than that of the marten.

The droppings of the mink may be seen on almost every flat rock in the forest brook, and where their runs approach the water's edge, perhaps leading through a gap between thickly-growing fir stems, are placed the numerous traps devised to secure the prize by settlers and Indians. Fish, flesh, or fowl alike may form the bait; a piece of gaspereau, or the liver of a rabbit or porcupine, is very enticing. With its half-webbed feet and aquatic habits, the American mink appears to have a well-marked European representative in the lutreola of Finland.