THE LIFE OF A BEAVER COLONY 97 



them more working hours. The nights, too, were 

 much colder, and the trees took on their wonderful 

 clothing of scarlets and yellows. Those persons 

 who have lived all their lives in the sombre east 

 can have no idea of the glories of the western 

 colouring. No pigment is richer or more brilliant 

 than the leaves of these northern trees. The 

 intense yellows of the birches and aspens, the 

 scarlets, crimsons and oranges of the maples, and 

 the endless array of purples and reds of the shrubs 

 combine to make these woods a feast for the eye, 

 beautiful beyond all power of description. It is 

 the signal of the fall of the year, the advance guard 

 of the long season of rest, silence and hardship, 

 when the inhabitants of the wilds are hard pressed 

 for food and the weakling and the improvident 

 succumb under the great test of fitness. The 

 survival of the fittest is the inexorable, pitiless law 

 of nature which demands of her offspring perfection 

 in power and resource. Those who are unable to 

 battle against the frightful odds fall out of the 

 ranks and are quickly forgotten by the survivors, 

 the winners in the great race. 



With the falling of the leaves the maples and 

 birches which had been girdled or marked by the 

 beaver a week or two earlier became ready for 

 cutting, so the busy animals attacked them with 

 their customary vigour and determination. It was 

 not like felling the soft aspens, through whose 

 tender wood their teeth bit with but slight oppo- 



R.B. H 



