200 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



channel, and cuts a hole above the prison of the beavers. He puts 

 down his arm. One by one they are dragged out by the tail ; and 

 that finishes the little beaver — sacrificed, like the guinea-pigs and 

 rabbits of bacteriological laboratories, to the necessities of man. 

 Only, this death is swifter and less painful. A prolonged death 

 struggle with the beaver would probably rob the trapper of half 

 his fingers. Very often the little beavers with poor fur are let go. 

 If the dog attempts to capture the frightened runaways by catching 

 at the conspicuous appendage to the rear, that dog is likely to 

 emerge from the struggle minus a tail, while the beaver runs off 

 with two. 



Trappers have curious experiences with beaver kittens which 

 they take home as pets. When young they are as easily domesti- 

 cated as a cat, and become a nuisance with their love of fondling. 

 But to them, as to the hunter, comes what the Indians call "the- 

 sickness-of-long-thinking," the gypsy yearning for the wilds. Then 

 extraordinary things happen. The beavers are apt to avenge their 

 comrades' death. One old beaver trapper of New Brunswick 

 related that by June the beavers became so restless, he feared their 

 escape and put them in cages. They bit their way out with absurd 

 ease. 



He then tried log pens. They had eaten a hole through in a 

 night. Thinking to get wire caging, he took them into his lodge, 

 and they seemed contented enough while he was about ; but one 

 morning he wakened to find a hole eaten through the door, and 

 the entire round of birch-bark, which he had staked out ready for 

 the gunwales and ribbing of his canoe — bark for which he had 

 travelled forty miles — chewed into shreds. The beavers had 

 then gone upstream, which is their habit in spring. 



