362 THE HAKMONIES OF NATURE. 



whole organisation seems to indicate the extreme of watchfulness 

 in perceiving danger, and of speed and cunning in avoiding 

 it. Similar qualities characterise the squirrels, who may be 

 called the hares of the trees, from their great agility in climb- 

 ing, and their prodigious leaps from bough to bough. As is 

 well known, the squirrel is an admirable nest-builder. His 

 summer cage, in which the young are born, is placed nearly 

 at the extremity of a slender bough, and is comparatively frail ; 

 while his winter residence is almost invariably situated in the 

 fork of some tree, generally where two branches start from the 

 trunk, and is so well concealed by the boughs on which it rests, 

 that it requires a practised eye to detect it. Thus the squirrel 

 never forsakes the trees, which afford him both food and shelter. 



Most rodents, however, seek a refuge from their enemies in 

 subterranean burrows, frequently driving a whole labyrinth of 

 tunnels through the soil. The rabbit is a familiar example ; but 

 however active he may be in excavating sandy heaths and downs, 

 his labours are inferior both in extent and ingenuity to those of 

 the prairie-dog (Arctcmiys ludovicianus), a species of marmot 

 which inhabits the vast grass-plains of North America, and owes 

 its popular name to the short yelping sound it is fond of uttering. 

 These pretty little rodents frequently assemble in such num- 

 bers that thousands of their burrows are dug in close proximity 

 to each other, and honeycomb the ground to such an extent 

 as to render it quite unsafe for horses. The scene presented by 

 one of these * dog-towns' or villages is extremely curious, and 

 well repays the trouble of a visit. 



'The prairie-dogs,' says the Hon. C. A. Murray, 'burrow 

 under the light soil, and throw it up round the entrance to 

 their dwelling like the English rabbit; on this little mound 

 they generally sit, chirping and chattering to one another like 

 two neighbour-gossips in a village. I do not know what 

 their occupations are, but I have seen them constantly running 

 from one hole to another, although they do not ever pay any 

 distant visits. They seem on the approach of danger always to 

 retire to their own home; but their great delight apparently 

 consists in braving it, with the usual insolence of cowardice, when 

 secure from punishment; for, as you approach, they wag their 

 little tails, elevate their heads, and chatter at you like a monkey, 

 louder and louder the nearer you come ; but no sooner is the 

 hand raised to any missile, whether gun, arrow, stick, or stone, 



