MAMMALS OF UTAH 91 



black and yellow hairs are found on the legs and feet except 

 the soles which are naked and black. Total length, 32; 

 tail vert., 6.8; hind foot, 4.25. (Warren.) 



Distribution— State of Sonora, Mexico, into New Mex- 

 ico, eastward to Missouri, west to the Pacific and north to 

 Alaska and the limit of trees. (Elliot.) Porcupines are 

 quite common in all of the wooded districts of Utah. I 

 have taken specimens in the very heart of Salt Lake City. 

 (Brigham street and Tenth avenue and D street.) Brigham 

 Spencer informs me that they are common in Garfield, 

 Wayne, San Juan, Grand and Emery counties. Speaking of 

 Washington county, Clinton Milne says that he has "seen 

 where a few have eaten the bark and roots of pine tree 

 shrubbery." S. B. Locke says that they are not very com- 

 mon in the LaSal mountains, where they appear usually 

 above 8,000 feet. 



Habits — The food of porcupines consist largely of the 

 bark of coniferous trees, and the lodge-pole pine seems to 

 be preferred to firs and spruces. Occasionally such large 

 areas of bark are gnawed from a tree that it dies. (Gary.) 



Probably no other animal of the woHd is capable of in- 

 flicting a wound so terrible, a death so painful and slow, as 

 that which the stupid porcupine can perpetrate with a sin- 

 gle swoop of its quill-covered tail. It cannot throw the deadly 

 needles, however, as many people suppose; but so quickly 

 does it lash its tail and so neatly are the spines barbed that 

 once the enemy is struck the quills easily pierce the flesh 

 and remain to work mortification of their own accord. The 

 result is excruciating pain and a lingering death, as awful as 

 inevitable. Most scientists agree that the fangs of a lion 

 produce immediate insensibility attended with little pain; 

 but weeks of torment and starvation may follow before the 

 defense of the porcupine completes its direful vengeance. 

 Man can extract the quills ; but an animal can only suffer, 

 hopelessly, desperately, until the end. 



Slow and listless, the porcupine neither migrates nor 

 hibernates, but lives contentedly its whole life through, 

 often in one small wood of hemlocks, jackpines, or elms. 

 Bachman says that one confined itself during an entire win- 

 ter to a space of about two acres. It may feed or move 

 about at any hour, but it really, prefers the soft dimness 

 of evening, morning or moonlight. 



Not numerous anywhere, the porcupine, non-sociable, 

 non-gregarious, is in fact one of the most solitary of ani- 

 mals. Food may attract a number at once; but the quest 

 is a meal, not company. 



