RATS AND MICE. 
365 
that they make use of dried mushrooms as sacks, in which 
they convey their provisions to the river, and thence to 
their homes. 5 1 
Before leaving the mice and rats I may say a few words 
upon certain mouse- and rat-like animals which scarcely 
require a separate section for their consideration. Of the 
harvesting mouse Gilbert White says : — 
One of their nests I procured this autumn, most artificially 
plaited and composed of blades of wheat, perfectly round, and 
about the size of a cricket-ball, with the aperture so ingeniously 
closed that there was no discovering to what part it belonged. 
It was so compact and well filled that it would roll across the 
table without being discomposed, though it contained eight 
little mice that were naked and blind. As the nest was per- 
fectly full, how could the dam come at her litter respectively, so 
as to administer a teat to each Perhaps she opens different 
places for that purpose, adjusting them again when the business 
is over ; but she could not possibly be contained herself in the 
ball with the young ones, which, moreover, would be daily in- 
creasing in size. This wonderful procreant cradle, an elegant 
instance of the efforts of instinct, was found in a wheat-field, 
suspended on the head of a thistle. 
Pallas has described the provident habits of the so- 
called 6 rat-hare 5 ( Lcigomys ), which lays up a store of grass, 
or rather hay, for winter consumption. These animals, 
which occur in the Altai Mountains, live in holes or cre- 
vices of rock. About the middle of the month of August 
they collect grass, and spread it out to dry into hay. In 
September they form heaps or stacks of the hay, which 
may be as much as six feet high, and eight feet in diame- 
ter. It is stored in their chosen hole or crevice, protected 
from the rain. 
The following is quoted from Thompson’s 4 Passions of 
Animals,’ pp. 235-6 : — 
The life of the harvester rat is divided between eating and 
fighting. It seems to have no other passion than that of rage, 
which induces it to attack every animal that comes in its way, 
without in the least attending to the superior strength of its 
enemy. Ignorant of the art of saving itself by flight, rather 
1 Dr. Henderson, Journal of a Residence in Iceland in 1814 and 
1815, vol. ii., p. 187. 
