242 Muskrats [THIRD WEEK 



ble muskrat, which in name and in facile adaptation 

 to the encroachments of civilization has little in common 

 with his more noble predecessor. Yet in many ways his 

 habits of life bring to mind the beaver. 



Let us make the most of our heritage and watch at the 

 edge of a stream, some evening in late fall. If the musk- 

 rats have half finished their mound of sticks and mud, 

 which is to serve them for a winter home, we will be sure 

 to see some of them at work. Two lines of ripples furrow 

 the surface outward from the farther bank, and a small 

 dark form clambers upon the pile of rubbish. Suddenly 

 a spat ! sounds at our very feet, and a muskrat dives 

 headlong into the water, followed by the one on the ground. 

 Another spat ! and splash comes from farther down the 

 stream, and so the danger signal of the muskrat clan is 

 passed along, a single flap upon the water with the flat 

 of the tail. 



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If we wait silent and patient, the work will be taken up 

 anew, and in the pale moonlight the little labourers will 

 fashion their house, lining the upper chamber with soft 

 grasses, and shaping the steep passageway which will lead 

 to the ever-unfrozen stream-bed. Either here or in the 

 snug tunnel nest deep in the bank the young muskrats 

 are born, and here they are weaned upon toothsome mussels 

 and succulent lily roots. 



Safe from all save mink and owl and trap, these sturdy 

 muskrats spend the summer in and about the streams; 

 and when winter shuts down hard and fast, they live lives 

 more interesting than any of our other animals. The 



