9® On the Habits of the Beaver. 



introduced from time to time large quantities of supple twigs, 

 or any soft substance that happened to fall within their reach, 

 so as to form a bed, which they have heaped up nearly a foot 

 from the floor, so that it is on a level with the top of the door- 

 way ; it slopes down, however, gradually towards the entrance. 

 An advantage is gained by this contrivance, this elevation places 

 them in a certain degree out of the influence of the cold air ; 

 and the declination of the bed towards the water, looks like a 

 precaution derived from their situation in North America, — a 

 provision to guai'd against the sudden inroads of water, caused 

 by the swelling of the stream on whose bank they may have 

 settled. Though there is no risk of an irruption of the pond 

 which now lies at their door, the instinct which teaches them to 

 provide against such an event still remains. 



Numerous are the fictitious wonders which swell many of the 

 relations of the habits and structure of the beaver, — a history 

 sufficiently curious and interesting without the addition of any 

 exaggerations. Among other gratuitous assertions, it has been 

 maintained by some, that the animal makes use of its tail as a 

 trowel, to work up the materials with which it builds. Were 

 this the case, the tail, which is covered with scales, by no means 

 hard, would soon exhibit proofs of the uses to which it was ap- 

 plied ; but in fact these scales are never found rubbed or in- 

 jured. During the process of building last winter, the beaver 

 employed its tail in no such hard service. All their materials 

 were conveyed in their fore-paws ; and, though these are small, 

 yet the animals managed, by holding them together, and close 

 up against the throat, to transport considerable masses of mud 

 at once. The tail is, however, by no means an useless member. 

 In its shape it bears some resemblance to the blade of an oar or 

 paddle, and, like it, is adapted to take hold of the water. A 

 great portion of the beaver's life is spent in that element. On 

 land it is a clumsy animal, slow in its movements, and easily 

 overtaken by its enemies. Conscious of this, its first impulse, 

 when an alarm is given, or an enemy at hand, is to plunge into 

 the water. There it dives and swims with great facility ; and 

 it may easily be supposed how advantageous it is to the crea- 

 ture to possess so powerful a rudder as its broad flat tail. By 

 means of this instrument, it is enabled to sink to the bottom, or 



