Shaggycoat: The Biography of a Beaver Page 7

  CHAPTER V

  A BEAVER LODGE

  It will be remembered that before beginning work on the dam the beaverswent to a point a few rods above where it was to be placed and dug threeholes running back from the stream. These holes started at differentpoints in the bank but all converged at the top of the knoll.

  The water had now set back and covered the lower end of the holes nearthe stream, but the opening at the top of the knoll was high and dry.

  The beavers now set to work with mud, sticks, stones, fine brush, andweeds, and built a circular wall about eight feet in diameter around thehole at the top of the knoll. The wall was about two feet thick andduring the first two or three days of building looked for all the worldlike the snow fort that children build by rolling huge snowballs into acircular wall, and then plastering in the cracks with loose snow, onlythe beavers' work was more regular and symmetrical than that of thechildren.

  It was now the first of November and freezing a little each night; justthe best time imaginable for a beaver to work upon his house, for it wasreally a house that the beavers were building.

  While the November sky was bright with stars, and the milky way wasluminous; while the frost scaled over the edges of their little pond,and the fresh north winds rapidly stripped the forest of its lastleaves, the beavers worked upon their house with that industry which isproverbial of them.

  They brought mud in their paws or on their broad flat tails, and sticksand brush in their teeth and plastered away like skilful masons. When apile of mud had been placed in the proper position, it would be smoothedoff carefully with the patient fore paws or perhaps that broad strongtail would come down upon it with a resounding slap and the trick wasdone.

  When the wall began to round over for the roof, the difficulty began.Here they had to put in rafters. These were formed of pliable sticks ofalder or willow, one end being stuck in the mud wall, and the other bentover at the top, until all came together where the chimney would be justlike the poles in an Indian's wigwam. Here they also had to use greatcare in placing the mud, for it would frequently fall through betweenthe rafters, or slide down upon them. If they could work, when it wasfreezing, the cold froze the mud to the rafters and helped to keep it inplace. Several times, part of the roof fell in and had to be relaid, butthey still worked away and, finally, all but a very small opening, twoor three inches in diameter, had been closed. This opening was the ventor chimney, where foul air might escape. This hole had to be just largeenough to permit the escape of hot air, but not large enough to admitany of their enemies.

  The same night that the final touches were put upon the roof of thiscurious dome-shaped house, the ground froze hard, and in the morning thewall of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver's new abode was quite substantial. But lateron when the hard freeze had made the earth like rock, this little mudhouse would be a veritable fortress, capable of withstanding almost anyonset with ordinary weapons. Even a man with a crowbar and axe wouldhave found it a hard task to enter this stronghold of these queer littlepeople.

  THE FINAL TOUCHES WERE PUT UPON THIS CURIOUS DOME-SHAPEDHOUSE]

  So you see the beaver had planned his work well and the frost and thewind had helped him. He had harnessed the stream to do his work, andmade its water protect him from his enemies. Just as men built theircastles in days of old, the beaver had made his dam, so that a moatshould surround his house, where the drawbridge should always be up, andthe only way of entrance or exit should be by water.

  You may wonder how after the roof of their house had been closed up, andno door left, the beavers went to and from their dwelling, but do younot remember the three holes that had been dug several weeks before.These were now their three submerged channels to the outer world,through which only a good swimmer could pass. This was the way theywent. A plunge down the hole at the centre of the lodge, and a dark formwould shoot out at the bank of the river. Perhaps a beaver's head,dripping with water would be poked up, only a few feet from the mudhouse, or maybe they would go the entire width of the pond beforecoming to the surface, for they are great swimmers, and can stay downfor several minutes without coming to the surface to breathe.

  Besides having three doors through which to escape to their water world,the beavers took other precautions against being entrapped in their snughouse, or caught in the pond without a place of refuge to flee to.

  They searched the bank for places where it was steep or shelving,overhanging the water. At such points they dug burrows back into thebank, gradually running them upward, but stopping a foot or two short ofthe surface. Here they would scoop out a snug burrow or nest to whichthey could retreat when living in the house became dangerous. They madethree or four such burrows, the lower end of each being under water, andthe nest end high and dry, but still underground. By this time theyfelt that their pond was fairly well fortified, and they set to work,laying in their winter store of food, for they knew that the pond wouldsoon freeze over thus making them prisoners under the ice for the entirewinter, so they must make their plans accordingly.

  They went to the upper end of the pond and began felling birch, poplarand maple saplings, three or four inches in diameter. These small treesthey limbed out, and cut up into pieces about three feet in length, justas a wood-chopper would cut cord wood.

  When a tree had been cut up into these convenient pieces, one of thebeavers would load it upon the shoulders of the other, who would clingto the stick with his teeth, and they would begin dragging it to thewater. The beaver usually went obliquely, dragging the stick after him,with one end trailing. When it had been rolled into the water, it wasleft to the current which they knew would float it down to the dam. Ifthe channel became blocked and logs lodged along the shore, they pushedthem off like the good log-men they were.

  It took two or three weeks to cut the winter's supply of wood, which wasnot for fuel but food. All the logs had been floated down to the dam andsecured under water near the lodge, when the great freeze came. It wasquite difficult to make the sticks stay under water, but this theymanaged to do in several ways. Some of them they thrust into the mud,while others were secured under roots, and a large pile was made safe atthe dam by thrusting one stick under another and allowing the top sticksto keep the under ones down.

  One clear, crisp night, about the first of December, the North Windawoke and came galloping over the frozen fields, bringing with himlegions of frost folks. The fingers of these myriad little people werelike icicles, and everything that they touched was congealed. They foundthe beavers' pond, and danced a merry dance over the sparkling water,and every time that they stooped to touch the clear water, crystals ofice formed and spread in every direction.

  It had been a very pleasant autumn, but the North Wind was angryto-night, and he howled like a demon, and smote lake and river with hisicy mittens, so that when the sun rose next morning, lakes and streamswere cased in a glittering armor of ice and the beavers were prisonersfor the winter.

  For the next four or five months they would live under ice, but they didnot care about that. It was what they had planned and worked for forweeks. They were snugly housed with plenty of tender bark for theirwinter's food, so the wind might howl, and the frost freeze. It wouldonly strengthen their barricade and make them more secure against theouter world.

  In their thick-walled house it was quite snug. The heat of their bodiesmade it warm and the vent at the top carried off the foul air. Wheneverthey were tired of confinement, they would go for a swim in the pondthrough one of the three sub-marine passages, just as though the pondhad not been frozen over. The only care that they needed to exercise wasto look out that these holes did not ice over and thus lock them intheir lodge like rats in a trap. To prevent this, they broke the icefrequently with their tails during cold days. Some cold nights they wereobliged to watch the holes for hours to prevent them from freezing.

  It was twilight of a bleak December day. The sun had taken hisaccustomed plunge behind the western horizon, but still shone blood redupon the clouds above
the gray hills. There was still light enough fromthe afterglow to cast shadows, and phantom shapes peopled the aisles ofthe forest, or stretched their long arms across the fields.

  The moon was just rising in the east, and it made shadows and shapesuncanny and unearthly. Already the heavens were studded with stars, andthe wind moaned fitfully, rattling down snow and ice and whistling inthe leafless twigs.

  Down from the foothills, coming like a wary hunter, a wildcat prowled tothe edge of the beavers' pond. A part of the way he had followed arabbit's track, but it had proved so old that he had finally given itup. When he hurried he moved by quick jumps, bringing down all four feetat a time quite close together, and leaving those four telltalepaw-prints in a bunch that hunters know so well. When he wanted to bemore cautious, he walked cat-like, setting his fore paw down as softlyas though his foot were velvet. He was an ugly looking brute, ratherheavily built, with a thick head, and square topped club ears thatusually lay back close to his head. His visage was generously sprinkledwith whiskers, but it was accented by two hungry yellow green eyes, thatseemed almost phosphorescent. His habitual expression was a snarl.

  At the edge of the beaver pond, he tried the wind this way and that. Hisnostrils dilated, his eyes snapped fire, and his stump of a tailtwitched. There was game abroad. He knew that scent of old. It was quitecommon away to the north from whence he had wandered. Cautiously hecrept forward, putting down his paws in the dainty cat-like manner; buthe must have known that the beavers were out of his reach at this timeof year. Perhaps his hunger made him forgetful or he may have looked forthe unexpected.

  Half-way across the pond he stopped and sniffed again; it was close athand now. Then he noticed the conical house on the island near, andcrept cautiously toward it. Twice he walked about the house, which wasnow partly covered with snow, then with one jump he landed upon the verydome of the beavers' dwelling and peeked in at the air hole. What he sawmade saliva drip from his mouth and his eyes dilate. There within threefeet of his death-dealing paws were a pair of sleek beavers, warm andcozy. The hot scent fairly ravished his nostrils. It was unendurable,and he tore at the frozen mud house like a fury, first with his forepaws, then with his powerful hind paws armed with one of the best set ofclaws in the New England woods. But it was as hard as a stone wall andthe beavers might just as well have been miles away as far as he wasconcerned.

  Then the wildcat peeked in again, and ungovernable rage seized him. Hereared upon his haunches, and beat the air with his fore paws andhowled and shrieked like a demon. The beavers started from theirtwilight nap with sudden terror. This fury that was tearing at theirhouse and filling the night with awful sounds seemed almost upon theirvery backs, so they fled precipitately through the water passages intothe pond and took refuge in one of the burrows along the bank.

  TEARING AT THEIR HOUSE AND FILLING THE NIGHT WITH AWFULSOUNDS]

  A moment later when the wildcat again peeped in at the vent, the housewas quite empty. Then after a few more futile efforts to break throughthe frozen walls he went away, going from bush to bush, alert andwatchful. Only the tracks remained to tell that the beavers had had sounwelcome a caller.