THE PORCUPINE 99 



to pieces, but in attacking it with its beak it had 

 driven numerous spines of the animal into its 

 throat, and from their effect had apparently died 

 as soon as its victim. 



The quill of a porcupine is like a bad habit : 

 if it once gets hold it constantly works deeper 

 and deeper, though the quill has no power of 

 motion in itself ; it is the live, active flesh of its 

 victim that draws it in by means of the barbed 

 point. One day my boy and I encountered a 

 porcupine on the top of one of the Catskills, and 

 we had a little circus with him ; we wanted to 

 wake him up, and make him show a little excite- 

 ment, if possible. Without violence or injury 

 to him, we succeeded to the extent of making 

 his eyes fairly stand out from his head, but 

 quicken his motion he would not, — probably 

 could not. 



What astonished and alarmed him seemed to 

 be that his quills had no effect upon his enemies ; 

 they laughed at his weapons. He stuck his head 

 under a rock and left his back and tail exposed. 

 This is the porcupine's favorite position of de- 

 fense. "Now come if you dare," he seems to 

 say. Touch his tail, and like a trap it springs 

 up and strikes your hand full of little quills. 

 The tail is the active weapon of defense ; with 

 this the animal strikes. It is the outpost that 



