THE WEATHER-WISE MUSKRAT. 85 
around the other side. Every mouthful was distinctly 
defined. After they were two feet or more above the 
water, I expected each day to see that the finishing 
stroke had been given and the work brought to a 
close. But higher yet, said the builder. December 
drew near, the cold became threatening, and I wa: 
apprehensive that winter would suddenly shut down 
upon those unfinished nests. But the wise rats knew 
better than I did; they had received private advices 
from headquarters that I knew not of. Finally, about 
the 6th of December, the nests assumed completion ; 
the northern incline was absorbed or carried up, and 
each structure became a strong massive cone, three or 
four feet high, the largest nest of the kind I had ever 
seen. Does it mean a severe winter? I inquired. An 
old farmer said it meant “high water,” and he was 
right once, at least, for in a few days afterward we 
had the heaviest rainfall known in this section for 
half a century. The creeks rose to an almost unprece- 
dented height. The sluggish pond became a seething, 
turbulent watercourse ; gradually the angry element 
crept up the sides of these lake dwellings, till, when 
the rain ceased, about four o’clock they showed above 
the flood no larger than a man’s hat. During the 
night the channel shifted till the main current swept 
over them, and next day not a vestige of the nests was 
to be seen; they had gone down-stream, as had many 
other dwellings of a less temporary character. The 
rats had built wisely, and would have been perfectly 
secure against any ordinary high water, but who can 
foresee a flood? The oldest traditions of their race 
did not run back to the time of such a visitation. 
Nearly a week afterward another dwelling was 
begun, well away from the treacherous channel, but 
