May, 1922. 



The Canadian Field-Naturalist 

 WOOD RATS AND GRIZZLY BEARS 



87 



By Merle F. Bancroft 



MANY examples of the instinct in wild animals 

 to shield their young from enemies may 

 be seen in tramping through the mountains of 

 southeastern British Columbia. The writer, 

 accompanied by a prospector and an engineer, 

 saw two such examples on the morning of July 

 29th, 1920. The first was on the part of a mother 

 wood rat dwelling in an abandoned mine and the 

 second was in the case of a huge grizzly bear, 

 concerned about the safety of her offspring. 



We, three men, had set out from Ferguson with 

 the intention of making a wide circuit through 

 part of the Selkirk Mountains lying between 

 Lardeau Creek and the Duncan River. The first 

 day we lunched at "Circle City," a one cabin 

 stopping-place in the timbered valley of Ferguson 

 Creek. The trail from Circle City to the Old 

 Gold mine on the Duncan slope proved to be an 

 excellent one for gaining elevation. There was 

 considerable snow on the pass and the trail on the 

 Duncan side lay across several wide gulches full 

 of hard packed snow. The construction of this 

 trail is unique, as it rises from near the pass to 

 skirt around a deep rocky basin; for a mile the 

 trail is nothing more than a rock shelf cut high up 

 on a limestone bluff. As we ascended from the 

 rock shelf, a mountain goat cantered ahead of us 

 across some snow and was soon climbing to safety 

 among the cliffs. Before reaching the Old Gold 

 cabin, located on the crest of a short ridge, we 

 paused to bag a whistler or marmot. We were 

 successful in this. The hoary marmot goes well 

 in a shepherd's pie and is one of the popular fresh 

 meat diets of the Indians in British Columbia. 



In the valley that lay to the north below us the 

 wild animals were fortunate enough to know little 

 of man and his doings. There were a number of 

 gophers around the cabin to welcome us. Pros- 

 pectors working at the Old Gold mine had made 

 friends with these animals, called them by name 

 and fed them scraps of food. In some respects 

 these little creatures showed no more fear than 

 gray squirrels that frequent parks and climb over 

 people in search of food. 



Later in the evening porcupine and wood rats 

 furnished a different sort of diversion. Their 

 nocturnal activities jeopardized the chances for 

 our much-needed rest. Wood rats have a repu- 

 tation for being troublesome at night and the 

 most effective method of getting deadly revenge 

 is to strike a light and deal suddenly with the 

 pests. A very peculiar unpleasant odour is 

 characteristic of the wood rat. 



In the West the bushy-tailed wood rat is 

 abundant and known by different names, such as 

 "mountain rat," "trade rat," "pack rat," "bush 

 rat" and other less modest terms descriptive of 

 their habits and character. Probably no other 

 animal has furnished better target practice for 

 indoor shooting where interior decorations are 

 given no serious thought and "dead rats" are the 

 objective. 



One night while sleeping under the stars far 

 from any cabin I was aroused by my companion 

 exclaiming, "Do you smell a wood rat?" The 

 scent of the little beast was fresh and strong and 

 in the half dark we began to feel around to locate 

 our visitor. There were two thicknesses of 

 blanket between us and the ground. Shrill 

 squeaks and squeals came from a part of the 

 blanket that lay between us as we grabbed a 

 suspicious looking fold. The wood rat had chosen 

 a good place to share in our bodily warmth, 

 though that may not have been his intention. 

 He had taken up a position in the blankets almost 

 beneath my companion's nose. 



On another occasion our temporary quarters 

 were in an old mill on the South Thompson River 

 not far from Ashcroft. Wood rats were nosiy 

 throughout the night. I was sleeping on a camp 

 cot and in the gray dawn heard a rapid beating on 

 the board floor beneath my cot. Quickly ducking 

 my head over the side of the cot, I got my first 

 close-up glimpse of a wood-rat. He was sitting 

 on his haunches and his long bushy tail lay flat 

 on the floor. The noise had ceased, the rat had 

 escaped and I could only guess how that noise 

 had been made. Had the rat been slapping his 

 tail on the floor? The tail looked too light to 

 produce the noise I had heard. I later learned 

 that wood rats "express annoyance or alarm by a 

 rapid drumming on the ground with their hind 

 feet, just as is done by some of the hares and 

 rabbits." This particular wood rat had become 

 adept in drumming on a board floor. The noise 

 produced was far louder than ground drumming. 



To return to the events of July 29th, 1920, we 

 three men got an early start, descending from the 

 Old Gold cabin into the mountain basin below. 

 We stopped at the Guinea Gold mine to look 

 over the underground mining developments on 

 this property. There was every sign that wood 

 rats had taken up their abode in the blacksmith 

 shop and in tunnels. "They are prolific animals 

 and each year have several litters containing from 

 two to five." This mine had been infested by the 



