by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE MARMOTS OF AMERICA.
From such a luxurious dinner you may suppose that our young voyageurslived in prime style. But it was not always so. They had their fastsas well as feasts. Sometimes for days they had nothing to eat but thejerked deer-meat. No bread--no beer--no coffee, nothing but water--dryvenison and water. Of course, this is food enough for a hungry man; butit can hardly be called luxurious living. Now and then a wild duck, ora goose, or perhaps a young swan, was shot; and this change in theirdiet was very agreeable. Fish were caught only upon occasions, foroften these capricious creatures refused Francois' bait, howevertemptingly offered. After three weeks' coasting the Lake, they reachedthe Saskatchewan, and turning up that stream, now travelled in a duewesterly direction. At the Grand Rapids, near the mouth of this river,they were obliged to make a portage of no less than three miles, but themagnificent view of these "Rapids" fully repaid them for the toil theyunderwent in passing them.
The Saskatchewan is one of the largest rivers in America, being full1600 miles in length, from its source in the Rocky Mountains to its_debouchure_, under the name of the "Nelson River," in Hudson's Bay.For some distance above Lake Winnipeg, the country upon its banks iswell wooded. Farther up, the river runs through dry sandy prairies thatextend westward to the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains. Many of theseprairies may be properly called "deserts." They contain lakes as saltas the ocean itself, and vast tracts--hundreds of square miles inextent--where not a drop of water is to be met with. But the route ofour voyageurs did not lie over these prairies. It was their intention,after reaching Cumberland House, to turn again in a northerly direction.
One evening, when within two days' journey of the Fort, they hadencamped upon the bank of the Saskatchewan. They had chosen a beautifulspot for their camp, where the country, swelling into rounded hills, wasprettily interspersed with bushy copses of _Amelanchiers_, and _Rosablanda_, whose pale red flowers were conspicuous among the green leaves,and filled the air with a sweet fragrance, that was wafted to ourvoyageurs upon the sunny breeze. The ground was covered with a grassysward enamelled by the pink flowers of the _Cleome_, and the deeper redblossoms of the beautiful wind-flower (_Anemone_). Upon that day ourtravellers had not succeeded in killing any game, and their dinner waslikely to consist of nothing better than dry venison scorched over thecoals. As they had been travelling all the morning against a sharpcurrent, and, of course, had taken turn about at the paddles, they allfelt fatigued, and none of them was inclined to go in search of game.They had flung themselves down around the fire, and were waiting untilthe venison should be broiled for dinner.
The camp had been placed at the foot of a tolerably steep hill, thatrose near the banks of the river. There was another and higher hillfacing it, the whole front of which could be seen by our travellers asthey sat around their fire. While glancing their eyes along itsdeclivity, they noticed a number of small protuberances or moundsstanding within a few feet of each other. Each of them was about a footin height, and of the form of a truncated cone--that is, a cone with itstop cut off, or beaten down.
"What are they?" inquired Francois.
"I fancy," answered Lucien, "they are marmot-houses."
"They are," affirmed Norman; "there are plenty of them in this country."
"Oh! marmots!" said Francois. "Prairie-dogs, you mean?--the same we metwith on the Southern prairies?"
"I think not," replied Norman: "I think the prairie-dogs are a differentsort. Are they not, Cousin Luce?"
"Yes, yes," answered the naturalist; "these must be a different species.There are too few of them to be the houses of prairie-dogs. The `dogs'live in large settlements, many hundreds of them in one place; besides,their domes are somewhat different in appearance from these. The moundsof the prairie-dogs have a hole in the top or on one side. These, yousee, have not. The hole is in the ground beside them, and the hill isin front, made by the earth taken out of the burrow, just as you haveseen it at the entrance of a rat's hole. They are marmots, I have nodoubt, but of a different species from the prairie-dog marmots."
"Are there not many kinds of marmots in America? I have heard so," saidFrancois.
This question was of course addressed to Lucien.
"Yes," answered he. "The _fauna_ of North America is peculiarly rich inspecies of these singular animals. There are thirteen kinds of them,well-known to naturalists; and there are even some varieties in thesethirteen kinds that might almost be considered distinct species. I haveno doubt, moreover, there are yet other species which have not beendescribed. Perhaps, altogether, there are not less than twentydifferent kinds of marmots in North America. As only one or two speciesare found in the settled territories of the United States, it wassupposed, until lately, that there were no others. Latterly thenaturalists of North America have been very active in their researches,and no genus of animals has rewarded them so well as the marmots--unless, perhaps, it may be the squirrels. Almost every year a newspecies of one or the other of these has been found--mostly inhabitingthe vast wilderness territories that lie between the Mississippi and thePacific Ocean.
"As regards the marmots, the _closet-naturalists_, as usual, haverendered their history as complicated and difficult to be understood aspossible. They have divided them into several genera, because one kindhappens to have a larger tubercle upon its tooth than another, or alittle more curving in its claws, or a shorter tail. It is true that inthe thirteen species some differ considerably from the others in size,colour, and other respects. Yet, for all that, there is such anidentity, if I may so express it, about the mode of life, the food, theappearance, and habits of all the thirteen, that I think it is bothabsurd and ill-judged to render the study of them more difficult, bythus dividing them into so many genera. They are all _marmots_, that iswhat they are; and why confound the study of them by calling themspermophiles and arctomys, and such-like hard names?"
"I quite agree with you, Luce," said the hunter, Basil, who, althoughnot averse to the study of natural history (all hunters, I believe, loveit more or less), had no great opinion of the closet-naturalists and"babblers about teeth," as he contemptuously called them.
"When a family of animals," continued Lucien, "contains a great manyspecies, and these species differ widely from each other, I admit thatit may then be convenient and useful to class them into genera, andsometimes even sub-genera; but, on the other hand, when there are only afew species, and these closely allied to each other, I think nothing canbe more ridiculous than this dividing and subdividing, and giving suchunpronounceable names to them. It is this that renders the studydifficult, because even the committing to memory such a string ofunmeaning phrases is of itself no easy task. Take, for example, such aphrase as `_Arctomys spermophilus Rickardsonii_,' which, although nearlya yard long, means simply the `tawny marmot.' Do not mistake me,"continued Lucien; "I do not object to the use of the Greek or Latinphraseology used in such cases. Some universal language must beadopted, so that the naturalists of different countries may understandeach other. But then this language should, when translated, describethe animal, by giving some of its characteristics, and thus have ameaning. On the contrary, it usually, when put into plain English,gives us only the name--often a clumsy and unpronounceable German one--of some obscure friend of the author, or, as is not unfrequently thecase, some lordly patron for whom your closet-naturalist entertains aflunkeyish regard, and avails himself of this means of making it knownto his Maecenas. In my opinion," continued Lucien, warming with theenthusiasm of a true naturalist, "it is a most impertinent interferencewith the beautiful things of Nature--her birds and quadrupeds, herplants and flowers--to couple them with the names of kings, princes,lords, and lordlings, who chance to be the local gods of somecloset-naturalist. It is these catalogue-makers who generally multiplysynonymes so as to render science unintelligible. Sitting in theireasy-chairs they know little or nothing of the habits of the animalsabout which they write; and th
erefore, to write something original, theymultiply names, and give measurements _ad infinitum_, and this amongthem constitutes a science. I do not, of course, include among thesethe man whose name is given--Richardson. No; he was a true naturalist,who travelled and underwent hardships to earn the high name which hebears and so well deserves."
"Brother Luce," said Basil, "you grow excited upon this subject, andthat is something of a rarity to see. I agree with you, however, in allyou have said. Previous to our leaving home I read several booksupon natural history. They were the works of distinguishedcloset-naturalists. Well, I found that all the information theycontained about the animals of these Northern regions--at least, allthat could be called _information_--I had read somewhere before. Afterthinking for a while I recollected where. It was in the pages of thetraveller Hearne--a man who, among these scientific gentlemen, isconsidered only in the light of a rude traveller, and not deserving thename of naturalist. Hearne journeyed to the Arctic Sea so early as theyear 1771; and to him the world is indebted for their first knowledge ofthe fact that there was no strait across the Continent south of theseventieth parallel of latitude."
"Yes," said Lucien, "he was sent out by the Hudson's Bay Company,perhaps more scantily furnished than any explorer ever was before. Heunderwent the most dreadful hardships and perils, and has left behindhim an account of the inhabitants and natural history of these parts, sofull and so truthful, that it has not only stood the test of subsequentobservation, but the closet-naturalists have added but little to it eversince. Most of them have been satisfied with giving just what poorHearne had gathered--as, in fact, they knew nothing more, and could not,therefore, add anything. Some of them have quoted his own words, andgiven him the credit of his vast labour; while others have endeavouredto pass off Hearne's knowledge as their own, by giving a slightlyaltered paraphrase of his language. This sort of thing," said Lucien,"makes me indignant."
"It's downright mean," interposed Norman. "All of us in this countryhave heard of Hearne. He was a right hardy traveller, and no mistakeabout it."
"Well, then," said Lucien, cooling down, and resuming the subject of themarmots, "these little animals seem to form a link between the squirrelsand rabbits. On the side of the squirrels they very naturally join on,if I may use the expression, to the ground-squirrel, and some of themdiffer but little in their habits from many of the latter. Otherspecies, again, are more allied to the rabbits, and less like thesquirrels; and there are two or three kinds that I should say--using aYankee expression--have a `sprinkling' of the rat in them. Some, as theground-hog, or wood-chuck of the United States, are as large as rabbits,while others, as the leopard-marmot, are not bigger than Norway rats.Some species have cheek-pouches, in which they can carry a largequantity of seeds, nuts, and roots, when they wish to hoard them up forfuture use. These are the spermophiles, and some species of these havemore capacious pouches than others. Their food differs somewhat,perhaps according to the circumstances in which they may be placed. Inall cases it is vegetable. Some, as the prairie-dogs, live upongrasses, while others subsist chiefly upon seeds, berries, and leaves.It was long supposed that the marmots, like the squirrels, laid upstores against the winter. I believe this is not the case with any ofthe different species. I know for certain that most of them pass thewinter in a state of torpidity, and of course require no provisions, asthey eat nothing during that season. In this we observe one of thosecases in which Nature so beautifully adapts a creature to itscircumstances. In the countries where many of the marmots are found, sosevere are the winters, and so barren the soil, that it would beimpossible for these creatures to get a morsel of food for many longmonths. During this period, therefore, Nature suspends her functions,by putting them into a deep, and, for aught we know to the contrary, apleasant sleep. It is only when the snow melts, under the vernal sun,and the green blades of grass and the spring flowers array themselves onthe surface of the earth, that the little marmots make their appearanceagain. Then the warm air, penetrating into their subterranean abodes,admonishes them to awake from their protracted slumber, and come forthto the enjoyment of their summer life. These animals may be said,therefore, to have no winter. Their life is altogether a season ofsummer and sunshine.
"Some of the marmots," continued Lucien, "live in large communities, asthe prairie-dogs; others, in smaller tribes, while still other specieslead a solitary life, going only in pairs, or at most in families.Nearly all of them are burrowing animals, though there are one or twospecies that are satisfied with a cleft in the rock, or a hole amongloose stones for their nests. Some of them are tree-climbers, but it issupposed they only ascend trees in search of food, as they do not maketheir dwellings there. Many of the species are very prolific, thefemales bringing forth eight, and even ten young at a birth.
"The marmots are extremely shy and watchful creatures. Before going tofeed, they usually reconnoitre the ground from the tops of their littlemounds. Some species do not have such mounds, and for this purposeascend any little hillock that may be near. Nearly all have the curioushabit of placing sentries to watch while the rest are feeding. Thesesentries station themselves on some commanding point, and when they seean enemy approaching give warning to the others by a peculiar cry. Inseveral of the species this cry resembles the syllables `seek-seek'repeated with a hiss. Others bark like `toy-dogs,' while still otherkinds utter a whistling noise, from which one species derives itstrivial name of `whistler' among the traders, and is the `siffleur' ofthe Canadian voyageurs.
"The `whistler's' call of alarm can be heard at a great distance; andwhen uttered by the sentinel is repeated by all the others as far as thetroop extends.
"The marmots are eaten both by Indians and white hunters. Sometimesthey are captured by pouring water into their burrows; but this methodonly succeeds in early spring, when the animals awake out of theirtorpid state, and the ground is still frozen hard enough to prevent thewater from filtering away. They are sometimes shot with guns; but,unless killed upon the spot, they will escape to their burrows, andtumble in before the hunter can lay his hands upon them."
