CHAPTER XI
A BANK BEAVER
When Shaggycoat returned from his second summer's ramble, he broughthome with him a large good natured beaver whom we will call Brownie.
This newcomer to the valley was a third larger than Shaggycoat, andlighter colored. The long hairs in his glossy coat were light brown,while his under fur was a drab. His tail was also larger and longer thanthat of his host.
Brownie turned out to be what is called a bank beaver. In France all thebeavers are bank beavers; in America they were all house beaversoriginally, but they have been so crowded and hunted from their nativehaunts by trappers and frontiersmen, that many of them have become bankbeavers; probably because this mode of life is less conspicuous, andleaves them better protected from the attacks of man, but they are amore easy prey to their natural enemies, and to starvation in thewinter.
Naturalists have quarreled and disputed as scientists will, as towhether the bank beaver in America is a separate specie, or merely thehouse beaver, who has adopted the methods and manners of the bankbeaver.
I am inclined to the latter view, as birds, animals, and even plantswill modify their mode of life to suit changing conditions.
At first Shaggycoat liked Brownie very much. He was so good natured andplayful that he made a pleasant companion, on the return trip home, but,when work upon the dam began, and he was invited to put his strongmuscles in play, he demurred. There was no need of building a dam hethought. Why not be content with a hole in the bank, and then therewould be no need of cutting these great trees, and tugging and haulingon logs and stones. Small trees furnished just as good bark as largeones, and were much easier to cut. But Shaggycoat did not like this lazymanner of living, besides he did not think it safe. When day after dayBrownie refused to help on the dam, he flew into a rage with so lazy afellow, and gave Brownie such a severe trouncing that he never daredshow himself about the lake afterward, so he went a mile or so downstream, and set up housekeeping for himself. But there was not muchhouse about it, for his home was merely a deserted otter's den, althoughhe considered it quite adequate.
One naturalist asserts that the bank beaver in America is a forlorn,sorrowful fellow, who has been disappointed in love, and has to gothrough life without a mate; while another avers that he is a drone whowill not labor, and so is driven from the colony.
Brownie certainly was a drone, and perhaps he had left his little mudlove token along the watercourse that autumn, and it had remainedunopened, but certainly his was a lonely life.
He took up his abode about a mile below the dam, and although theysometimes saw him watching them from a distance, he never dared againtrespass on the premises of these more ambitious beavers.
His burrow was located where the river was deep so that he might be wellprotected from the waterside. He could not lay up a large supply of woodfor food as the house beaver did, but he managed to secure considerableunder roots and stones along the shore. Some of this the current carrieddown stream, and his stock ran short before spring.
Perhaps he thought of his snugly housed cousins on cold winter days andnights, as he nestled alone in his comfortless burrow. In the beaverhouses, the warmth of several bodies, and the breath from many nostrils,kept the temperature quite comfortable, but lonely Brownie had to be hisown bedfellow, and what warmth there was came from his own body, andwarming one's self with one's own heat is rather a forlorn task.
Also when his supply of bark ran low, and he had to gnaw upon tree rootsto keep the breath of life in his body, he remembered the house beaver'sgenerous supply of wood.
If the winter was not too severe, the stream might be open for a whileat the rapids near by, when he could replenish his store, but,floundering about in the deep snow in midwinter, leaving telltale tracksat every step, and an unmistakable beaver scent, was hazardous business.There were many creatures in the wilderness who were fiercer andstronger than the harmless beaver, and they all loved beaver meat.
As we have already seen, the bear would prowl about in beaver land, justbefore denning up, for a last smack of blood. The wildcat and the lynxwere about as fond of beaver as of fish and they could watch for both atthe same time, which made it doubly interesting. The sneaking wolverinealso considered the beaver his particular titbit.
For all of these reasons Brownie would go hungry for several mealsbefore he would venture outside to replenish his store of bark.
One evening late in November, he was leaving his burrow to go ashore anddo some wood cutting when just at the entrance a premonition of dangercame upon him. That peculiar sense of danger that many animals have toldhim that something was wrong. I have known several cases where dogs hadpremonitions of coming disaster in the family, and it was probably thisinstinctive power that told Brownie that something was waiting for himat the mouth of his burrow, so he just poked the tip of his nose out, tosee what it was that made him so uncomfortable.
Quick as a flash a mighty paw armed with a raking set of claws, struckhim a stunning blow in the nose. He had just sense enough left towriggle back a few feet into the burrow, and keep quiet.
Although his nose was bleeding profusely and he had been severelystunned, in a few seconds he recovered, for without doctors, ormedicine, the wild creatures have a way of recovering rapidly from anyhurt.
From the strong bear scent that penetrated his burrow, Brownie knew thathis enemy was a bear, even before Bruin reached his strong arm in andtried to poke him out. But he had no mind to be poked, so he wriggledout of reach and was glad that he had escaped so easily. The bear hungabout the spot for a day or two, often watching cat-like at the hole.Sometimes he would go back into the woods, hoping to entrap the beaverinto coming out, but Brownie had no desire to become further acquaintedwith the ugly fellow and so stayed in, although this two days'imprisonment hindered his wood cutting.
The next watcher at his front door was the mean, sneaking wolverine, whokept him a prisoner for two or three days more. This enemy was even moreto be dreaded than the bear, for he would have dug the beaver out if themouth of his burrow had not been so far under water. He did start to dighim out from the bank above, running a shaft down to strike the beaverden. He would have found the burrow without a doubt, but a hard freezeput a stop to his digging so he left the bank beaver and went up to thedam to try his luck with the house beavers.
All these things made Brownie's supply of wood much smaller than itshould have been. But the trouble was not there. He should have beenmore provident, and worked earlier in the autumn when he had a chance.
Finally the ice door was shut down over lake and stream, and there wasno more going out for the beaver family.
Now Brownie was unwise again, for he did not guard his store carefully,but ate greedily without a thought of how long the winter before himmight be.
By the time the great January thaw came he had entirely exhausted hissupply of bark and had gnawed all the tree roots that he could reachunder the ice.
He would have famished in a few days more had not the great thaw openedan airhole in the ice, through which he escaped into the adjacent woods.He knew that this was hazardous, but hunger impelled him and hunger isa mighty argument. For about a week all went well and he wascongratulating himself upon his good fortune, and had about concludedthat he had been too cautious, when the unexpected happened. This nighthe went forth as usual to cut sapling for his supper but did not return.
Just what happened I shall not tell, but we will follow his tracks inthe snow and see if we can guess.
For three or four rods we can see where he floundered along to a clumpof bushes, and here there are four ragged stumps and near by three smallpoplars lying in the snow. Then here are the marks of brush beingdragged along on the snow to the burrow. Then there is a second beavertrack leading back to the fallen poplars, and here is another trackcoming from down-stream and following beside the beaver track. Thistrack shows four large paw prints in a bunch and the creature did nottrot but hopped like a rabbit.
Now he has stopped, for the paw prints are spread out as though he stoodwatching and listening. See where the fur on his belly brushed the snowas he crept forward. Now he is crouching low, the belly mark on the snowis plainer. What a break in the track is this. Three great jumps, eachmeasuring ten feet, and here are other tracks of the same kind comingfrom two directions.
See how the snow is tramped and blurred. Ah, there is where the hunterand hunted met, and the pale winter moon and the gleaming stars knowwhat happened.
THERE IS WHERE THE HUNTER AND THE HUNTED MET]
There are still a few small drops of blood, and eager tongues havelicked up many more, for the snow is blotted and streaked with thesetongue marks. Here and there are brown hairs that tell their patheticstory to the woodsman who can see it all in the tracks as well asthough it had happened before his own eyes.
The unfortunate wood-cutter had fallen a victim to one of thoseferocious lynx bands, that range the woods in extreme winters whenhunger drives them to hunt in company. It had been cleverly done asthings are, in the woods. One of the company had come up the stream andcut off the beaver's chance of escape to his burrow. He had thenfollowed on the fresh track to the poplars where the band had closed inon their unfortunate prey.
Only the uncanny night knows how pitiful was the cry from the terrifiedand agonized beaver as these three furies hurled themselves upon him andin fewer seconds than it takes to tell it, tore him to shreds.