xxxi MABTTS OF THE BADGER 275 



I thought him quite incapable of moving, and then digging 

 under the wall, he got away. 



The badger always puts me in mind of a miniature bear, 

 and to this family he evidently belongs. His proportions are 

 .similar to those of the bear ; his manner of placing his feet on 

 the ground is like that of a bear, and is very peculiar. Beyond 

 the marks of his toes, which, five in number, mark the ground 

 in a nearly straight line, are the impressions of his strong, sharp 

 nails, apparently unconnected with, and at the distance of an 

 inch or two from the rest of his track. These long and power- 

 ful nails are a formidable weapon, and in engagements with 

 dogs he makes good use of them, inflicting fearful and some- 

 times fatal wounds. Though a quiet animal, and generally 

 speaking not much given to wandering, I have occasionally 

 fallen in with his unmistakable track miles from any burrow. 

 His habits are wholly nocturnal, and it is only in the summer 

 evenings, when the darkness lasts but a few hours, that he is 

 ever met with whilst it is light. During winter he not only 

 keeps entirely within his hole, but fills up the mouth of it to 

 exclude the cold and any troublesome visitor who might intrude 

 on his slumbers. Frequently, however, tempted by mild weather 

 in the winter, he comes out for some good purpose of his own 

 — either to enjoy the fresh air or to add to his larder ; but 

 never does he venture out in frost or snow. Sometimes I have 

 known a badger leave the solitude of the woods and take to 

 some drain in the cultivated country, where he becomes very 

 bold and destructive to the crops, cutting down wheat and 

 ravaging the gardens in a surprising manner. One which I 

 know to be now living in this manner derives great part of his 

 food during the spring from a rookery, under which he nightly 

 hunts, feeding on the young rooks that fall from their nests or 

 on the old ones that are shot. This badger eludes every 

 attempt to trap him. Having more than once run narrow risks 

 of this nature, he has become so cunning that no one can catch 

 him. If a dozen baited traps are set, he manages to carry off 

 the baits and spring every trap, always with total impunity to 

 himself. At one time he was watched out to some distance 

 from his drain, and traps were then put in all directions round 

 it, but, by jumping over some and rolling over others, he escaped 

 all. In fact, though a despised and maltreated animal, when 



