CHAP. XXXI THE BADGER 271 



to exist amongst us, our friend the brock still continues to 

 burrow in the solitary and unfrequented recesses of our larger 

 woods. Persevering and enduring in his every-day life, he 

 appears to have been equally so in clinging to existence during 

 the numerous changes which have passed over the face of the 

 globe since the first introduction of his family into it. Notwith- 

 standing the persecutions and indignities that he is unjustly 

 doomed to suffer, I maintain that he is far more respectable in 

 his habits than we generally consider him to be. " Dirty as a 

 badger," " stinking as a badger," are two sayings often repeated, 

 but quite inapplicable to him. As far as we can learn of the 

 domestic economy of this animal when in a state of nature, he 

 is remarkable for his cleanliness — his extensive burrows are 

 always kept perfectly clean, and free from all offensive smell ; 

 no filth is ever found about his abode ; everything likely to 

 offend his olfactory nerves is carefully removed. I once, in 

 the north of Scotland, fell in with a perfect colony of badgers ; 

 they had taken up their abode in an unfrequented range of 

 wooded rocks, and appeared to have been little interrupted 

 in their possession of them. The footpaths to and from 

 their numerous holes were beaten quite hard ; and what 

 is remarkable and worthy of note, they had different small 

 pits dug at a certain distance from their abodes, which were 

 evidently used as receptacles for all offensive filth ; every other 

 part of their colony was perfectly clean. A solitary badger's 

 hole, which I once had dug out, during the winter season, pre- 

 sented a curious picture of his domestic and military arrange- 

 ments — a hard and long job it was for two men to achieve, the 

 passage here and there turned in a sharp angle round some 

 projecting corners of rock, which he evidently made use of 

 when attacked, as points of defence, making a stand at any of 

 these angles, where a dog could not scratch to enlarge the 

 aperture, and fighting from behind his stone buttress. After 

 tracing out a long winding passage, the workmen came to two 

 branches in the hole, each leading to good-sized chambers : in 

 one of these was stored a considerable quantity of dried grass, 

 rolled up into balls as large as a man's fist, and evidently 

 intended for food ; in the other chamber there was a bed of 

 soft dry grass and leaves — the sole inhabitant was a peculiarly 

 large old dog-badger. Besides coarse grasses, their food consists 



