47 
that they are frequently seen in numbers of ten to twenty grazing in the 
same locality like so many cattle, it is rare to see them close together, 
and there is seemingly no bond of communication between them, for the 
gopher is an animal of almost perfect silence and the only approach to 
yocal sounds is a slight hiss as the head is suddenly drawn in, compres- 
sing the lungs and forcing the air quickly through the chink of the glottis; 
and I have sometimes thought I recognized a faint “mew” like that of a 
kitten. 
The gopher is a most strict vegetarian in his native State, but, under 
domestication, will learn to drink milk, to eat salads of various kinds, 
prepared with dressing of eggs, condiments, etc. He heartily abjures all 
kinds of flesh or insects, and would starve before eating either. He does 
not seem inclined to social life with his own kind, and invariably lives 
alone, save for the companionship—either by accident or from choice—of 
the white and mottled frog, or cricket, that is almost always found in his 
home, and which is known to the native Floridian as his “familiar.” The 
gopher is thus an example of absolute independence, each dwelling alone 
in his or her own home; never have I found two in one house, and I know 
of none having calling acquaintances. The female deposits her eggs, from 
one to two dozen in number, in the sand at the entrance to her burrow, 
covers them up to the depth of four inches, and then her domestic duties 
to her family are ended; she may sit at the doorway and chew her cud 
when the weather is agreeable, that is, not raining, or too hot from the 
direct rays of the sun. She may at times cover her deposit with her im- 
penetrable shell to keep them from the opossum or meandering coon; but 
one thing is certain, when the eggs are hatched by the heat of the May 
sun, each little gopher—an inch in diameter—goes for itself, finds its own 
food, makes its own house and is recognized as an independent citizen 
from the very shell. 
When driving through the pine barrens one will sometimes pass a 
dozen or more of these animals grazing within a few hundred feet of one 
another. They swing along with heads thrust forward much as if the 
neck were a cable and the head the motive power, drawing a heavy in- 
verted basin behind. Coming to a tuft of wire grass or other crisp or ten- 
der herbage they draw it in by the tongue, cut it off sharply by the triple 
row of sharp, serrate teeth-like edges of this horny layer of the jaws and 
swallow it down without mastication. The animal will give little heed 
to your presence or that of your dog, unless quite near his hole, but will 
