130 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
the dogs had their periodical hunting fits, when 
they would vanish for half a day’s vizeacha-hunting 
on the plain, just as fox-terriers and other dogs 
in which the hunting instinct still survives steal 
out of the village to. chase or dig out rabbits on 
their own account. 
The vizcacha is a big rodent and lives in 
communities, in warrens or villages composed of a 
group of huge burrows, and the native dogs are 
fond of assaulting these strongholds but seldom 
succeed in getting at their quarry. A dog no bigger 
than a fox-terrier can make his way in till he 
comes to grips with the vizcacha, usually with the 
result that he gets well punished for his audacity. 
Our dogs would simply labour to enlarge the 
burrows by scratching and biting away the earth 
and furiously barking at the animal inside who 
would emit curious noises and cries, which the dogs 
appeared to regard as insults and would only 
cause them to redouble their efforts. 
On several occasions, when riding on the plain 
a mile or two from home, I would come on our 
dogs—the entire pack and the lamb with them, 
engaged in the siege and assault of a vizcacha 
village or earth. A funny sight! The dogs would 
jump up barking and wagging their tails as if to 
say, “Here we are, you see, just in the middle of 
our fight with no time to spare for friendly con- 
versation.”” And back they would fly to their 
burrows. The lamb too would dance up to give 
me a welcome and then back to her duties. Her 
