THE LIFE OF A BEAVER COLONY 97 
them more working hours. The nights, too, were 
much colder, and the trees took on their wonderful 
clothing of scarlets and yellows. Those persons 
who have lived all their lives in the sombre east 
can have no idea of the glories of the western 
colouring. No pigment is richer or more brilliant 
than the leaves of these northern trees. The 
intense yellows of the birches and aspens, the 
scarlets, crimsons and oranges of the maples, and 
the endless array of purples and reds of the shrubs 
combine to make these woods a feast for the eye, 
beautiful beyond all power of description. It is 
the signal of the fall of the year, the advance guard 
of the long season of rest, silence and hardship, 
when the inhabitants of the wilds are hard pressed 
for food and the weakling and the improvident 
succumb under the great test of fitness. The 
survival of the fittest is the inexorable, pitiless law 
of nature which demands of her offspring perfection 
in power and resource. Those who are unable to 
battle against the frightful odds fall out of the 
ranks and are quickly forgotten by the survivors, 
the winners in the great race. 
With the falling of the leaves the maples and 
birches which had been girdled or marked by the 
beaver a week or two earlier became ready for 
cutting, so the busy animals attacked them with 
their customary vigour and determination. It was 
not like felling the soft aspens, through whose 
tender wood their teeth bit with but slight oppo- 
R.B. H 
