Homes Without Hands: Being a Description of the Habitations of Animals, Classed According to Their Principle of Construction - Page 10

THE WOODCHUCK (Arctomys monax) is another well-known burrower of America. On account of its whistling cry, it is called SIFFLEUR by the French; and its peculiar form has earned for it the somewhat inappropriate title of GROUND HOG.

The burrow of the Woodchuck is rather long, running to a distance of twenty or thirty feet from the entrance, which is almost invariably placed under the shelter of a projecting rock, or on the side of a hill. It descends obliquely for a few feet, and then rises gradually toward the surface of the ground. At the extremity of the burrow is placed the nest, which is a rounded chamber of considerable dimensions. Here the young Woodchucks are born, and here they remain until they are about five months old, when they separate from each other, and begin an independent existence, each digging a small hole about a yard in depth. Many of these little burrows are made and left unoccupied. Digging out Woodchucks is a favorite amusement with boys.

OUR next example is the CANADA POUCHED RAT (Pseudostoma bursarius), sometimes called the GOPHER, or MULO.

This remarkable animal drives burrows of very great extent, and whenever it gains admission into a garden, it works much damage to the roots of the plants. Every root that crosses the tunnel the Pouched Rat will eat; and not only herbs and flowers, but even fruit trees of many years' growth have been killed by this destructive animal. In such cases, the extremity of the burrow is always to be found among the roots of some tree, which act at the same time as a defense and a larder; for the Rat hides itself under their protection, and eats away their tender shoots.

Like the mole, the Gopher throws up little hillocks at irregular intervals, sometimes twenty or thirty feet apart, and sometimes crowded closely together. The nest of the Gopher is made in a burrow constructed expressly for the purpose, and is placed in a small globular chamber about eight inches in diameter. The bed on which the mother and her young repose is made of dried herbage and fur plucked from the body. This chamber is the point from which a great number of passages radiate, and from these other tunnels are driven. These radiating burrows evidently serve two purposes, enabling the animal to escape in any direction when alarmed, and serving to conduct it to its feeding grounds.

In two instances where the Gophers had entered a garden, their tunnels were traced throughout the greater part of their extent, and were found to be driven at an average depth of a foot or eighteen inches below the surface, except when they crossed a path, in which case they dipped to a much lower level.

Canada Pouched Rat, (Plan of Burrow.)

Two of these burrows were opened, but in neither case was the animal captured, as the lateral galleries ran on every side into the fields and woods, so as to afford an easy mode of escape.

The Canada Pouched Rat is nearly a foot in length, and is notable for the great development of its incisor teeth, which project beyond the lip, and for the dimensions of its cheek-pouches, which measure about three inches in length, and extend as far as the shoulders. It was formerly thought that the animal employed these pouches for the conveyance of earth out of its burrow, but it is now known that it does not make any such use of those natural pockets.

ANOTHER species belonging to the same genus, the Camas Rat (Pseudostoma borealis), is an indefatigable burrower, making tunnels at a very little distance below the surface of the ground, and throwing up hillocks as it passes along. Like the rabbit, it is a partially social animal, living in small communities, and probably drawn together by no personal affection, but by the convenience of the locality. The name of Camas Rat is derived from its food, which consists chiefly of the quamash root (Scilla esculenta).

ONE or two other burrowing rodents deserve a passing notice. There is the SLEPEZ, or MOLE RAT of Asia (Spalax typhlus), an animal which looks very like a mole, though it belongs to the rodents. It is even less capable of sight than the mole, for its eyes are not only as small as those of that animal, but are actually covered by the thickly-furred skin. The burrow which it makes is very like that of the Gopher, and consists of a series of tunnels driven through the earth at no great depth from the surface, and from which radiate a vast number of lateral passages.

The SAND MOLE of Southern Africa (Bathyergus maritimus) is another of these shallow burrowers, and by the abundance of its tunnels, and the very trifling depth at which they are driven, renders the ground absolutely dangerous to horsemen. It is rather a large animal, nearly equaling our wild rabbit in dimensions. The fur of the Sand Mole is remarkable for its woolly texture.

OWING to the peculiar nature of the substance in which the WHITE BEAR (Thalarctos maritimus) makes its curious burrows, I have placed it after, instead of before the earth-burrowing rodents.

We are told by experienced travelers in northern climes that nobody need be frozen to death in the snow. They look upon such a misfortune with a species of contemptuous pity, compassionating the victim of cold for his sufferings, but despising him for his ignorance. The aboriginal Australian can not comprehend how a white man can be so foolish as to die of thirst while there are so many water-bearing vegetables around him; the aboriginal American is at a loss to understand how a European can perish of hunger while in the midst of plenty; and those who have passed much of their lives amid the snow can hardly conceive an act of such supreme folly as to be frozen to death while the means of warmth are at hand.

There is no need of a constitution especially organized or sedulously acclimatized to the snow; the benighted traveler who loses himself in the white expanse, with the heavy flakes falling thickly round him, need not possess the hardihood of the highland "reiver," who cares for no covering save his plaid, and looks upon a snow-pillow as an effeminate luxury. He who finds himself in such a position, and knows how to avail himself of the means around him, will welcome every flake that falls, and instead of looking upon the snow as an enemy whose white arms are ready to inclose him in a fatal embrace, he hails the soft masses as a means of affording him warmth and safety.

The Polar Bear.

Choosing some spot where the snow lies deepest, such as the side of a bank or a tree, or a large stone, he scoops out with his hands a hollow in which he can lie, and wherein he is sheltered from the freezing blasts that scud over the land. Wrapping himself in his garments, he burrows his way as deeply as he can, and then lies quietly, allowing the snow to fall upon him unheeded. The extemporized cell in which he reclines soon begins to show its virtues. The substance in which it is hollowed is a very imperfect conductor of heat, so that the traveler finds that the caloric exhaled from his body is no longer swept off by the wind, but is conserved around him, and restores warmth and sensation to his limbs. The hollow enlarges slightly as the body becomes warm, and allows its temporary inhabitant to sink deeper into the snow, while the fast falling flakes rapidly cover him, and obliterate the traces of his presence.

There is no fear that he should be stifled for want of air, for the warmth of his breath always keeps a small passage open, and the snow, instead of becoming a thick uniform sheet of white substance, is broken by a little hole round which is collected a mass of glittering hoar-frost, caused by the congelation of the breath. There is no fear now of perishing by frost, for the snow-cell is rather too hot than too cold, and the traveler can sleep as warmly, if not as composedly, as in his bed at home.

The reader may possibly remember that, even in the British Islands, the snow-bed is almost annually brought into requisition.

The use of snow as a warm mantle to protect the young crops from the frost is familiar to all. Some of us have seen, and we have nearly all read of, the wonderful scenes that take place among the Scottish mountains, where the snow-drifts are heaped like white hills by the wayward tempest, taking all kinds of fantastic forms, and scooped into bays, and precipices, and craggy mountains, with outlines as bold and sharp as if cut in unyielding granite. After such storms as raise these strange mockeries of rugged landscape, whole flocks of sheep are missing, and must be sought by the shepherd and his faithful dog.

As the two allies press onward in their quest, they walk at random, for the snow masses have swept over hill and dale, have obliterated all the well-known landmarks, raised hills where hollows had been, and have changed the face of nature. Left to himself the shepherd would scarcely discover a single sheep, and in all probability would find himself in the very predicament from which he seeks to rescue his woolly charge. Were it not for the fine instincts of the quadruped many a flock would be lost, for the dog sniffs and runs about, and raises his nose in the air as the well-known odor salutes his nostrils, and finally dashes forward and comes to a stand-still over a little hole in the snow, around which is gathered a slight incrustation of hoarfrost. This is a sure indication that the sheep are below and still living, and then the shepherd breaks through the roof of the snowy cell with his pole, and rescues the starving animals from their perilous position.

The sheep which are thus preserved from the effects of the cold do not voluntarily burrow into the snow. They are not intended to pass a large portion of their lives in a subnivean abode, and their presence under the snow is quite accidental. Striving to avoid the chilling blasts of the wind, they crowd toward any object that may shelter them from the cruel tempest, and while huddled together, the snow-drifts are heaped around them, and cover them effectually. Under such circumstances they often die of starvation if they are left undiscovered for too long a period, after having nibbled all the wool from each others' backs.

But the WHITE BEAR intentionally places herself in such a position, and toward the month of December retreats to the side of a rock, where, by dint of scraping, and allowing the snow to fall upon her, she forms a cell in which to reside during the period of her accouchement. Within this strange nursery she produces her young, and remains with them beneath the snow until the month of March, when she emerges into the outer air, bringing with her the baby bears, who are then about as large as ordinary rabbits. As the time passes on, the breath of the family, together with the warmth exhaled from their bodies, serves to enlarge the cell, so that in proportion with their increasing dimensions, the accommodation is increased to suit them. As is the case with the snow-covered sheep, the hidden Bear may be discovered by means of the little hole which is made by the warm breath, and is rendered more distinguishable by the hoarfrost which collects around it.

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