300 
^^Iarch 9, 1912 
task, and how happy was I when the experiment 
was successful! One morning I added a wood¬ 
chuck to my list of game. I was quietly making 
my way down the sloping sides of the ravine, 
eyes and ears alert for squirrels, when I espied 
a clumsy little annimal making its way up the 
path directly toward me. Every few feet 11 
would stop, look all about and listen. I re¬ 
mained very quiet until it was within gunshot, 
when I fired; the second shot finished it. 
My days on the river were quite as pleasant 
as those spent in the woods. Below the mill 
dam at Oregonia there is a small gravelly 
island, from the upper end of which I have 
caught some nice strings of fish and from the 
dam itself I caught my first bass. From the 
top of an old stump near this dam I also caught 
nice strings of fish—I say strings, for whoever 
heard of a boy carrying a pail or basket to put 
his fish in? 'I'he reason is obvious and is not 
entirely confined to boys, either. 
Last summer, while in Ohio, I revisited the 
scenes of that two weeks’ vacation. On the 
former occasion the twenty-two miles interven¬ 
ing between my home and the river was 
traversed in a spring wagon. On this occasion 
I was swiftly whirled along the old familiar 
road in a motor car. The trip formerly seemed 
a long one, but this time it seemed as tliough 
I had scarcely got started, when on rounding 
a sharp curve, the peacefully flowing river burst 
upon our gaze. A few lusty honks warned 
dogs, chickens, boys, the halt, the blind, the 
aged and the infirm to seek shelter. We rushed 
through town and down the lovely little coun¬ 
try lane to the fishing grounds, halting under 
the branches of a wide spreading tree. Some¬ 
how I was not pleased. I cannot reconcile my¬ 
self to a motor car outside city limits. To in¬ 
vade those scenes of peace and quiet with this 
loud-mouthed, ill-smelling contrivance seemed 
out of place, although I did not voice my senti¬ 
ments to the owner of the car. 
The fishing did not prove good, although I 
landed a bass from off the point of the gravelly 
island. The old stump was gone, and so also 
were other familiar landmarks, but there were 
catfish and carp aplenty and so time did not 
lag. At lunch time one of my companions 
threw out a line and fastened it to a rock, after 
which we attacked the dinner basket. All at 
once my friend jumped up and tore down the 
bank like mad, calling on all the rest to follow 
him. Now, I was enjoying my lunch very much, 
and to be so rudely called away in the very 
midst of it was unpleasant in the extreme, but 
judging from my friend’s frantic yells that the 
fate of the nation was at stake, I joined in the 
race. Jake was hauling away at one end of 
the line for dear life and the fish, whatever it 
was, was making things exceedinly lively at the 
other. We finally landed our fish, which proved 
to be a big carp, with the aid of the net, after 
which we went back to our feast. The after¬ 
noon wore away without any further excitement 
or any more fish. 
Several days later we again tried the river, 
some of us with better success, one man catch¬ 
ing a fine string of bass at the mouth of Caesar’s 
Creek. Another had some fine sport with those 
gamy fish about a half mile further up the 
river. In writing about this particular part of 
the river a laughable incident of former fishing 
days is recal)“d. A crowd of young fellows had 
FOREST AND STREAM 
come over to spend a day fishing, and among 
them was a schoolmate of mine, whom we 
will call E. E. was a big German boy who 
was the butt of all the good-natured fun of the 
community. He fished precisely as he did every¬ 
thing else, by “main strength and awkward¬ 
ness.” as the saying goes, and, needless to say, 
had poor results. He had borrowed a fine rod 
from a friend and this he firmly fastened be¬ 
tween stones, throwing the baited hook far out 
into the stream. Then he wandered aimlessly 
about on the bank. One of the boys, catching a 
big turtle, carefully drew in E.’s line, fastened 
the turtle to the hook and replaced everything 
as it was. The big turtle tuggd lustily at the 
line and the rod bent alarmingly. “Look out, 
E., you’ve got a fish!” some one yelled, and 
T he order Glires, comprising the rodents, in¬ 
cludes many forms of these interesting 
mammals, divided into numerous families. 
No two perhaps bear such a striking resemblance 
to each other, in form and habits, as do the 
beaver and the muskrat. Indeed, the latter has 
been likened to a small cousin, a sort of pocket 
edition of the former. Nor is the comparison 
incongruous, for in manj^ respects the two ani¬ 
mals show marked similarity. 
It might seem almost, when civilization set 
its heavy foot in the wilderness and drove the 
beaver from its accustomed haunts, as if the 
muskrat shrank in size to better avoid detection 
and so remained in the ponds and rivers deserted 
in panic by its larger contemporary. At any rate 
the muskrat has persisted, and stranger still, 
multiplied in its old abodes. 
Mainly in size and a few structural differences 
sufficient to justify naturalists in separating them 
into two distinct families, the species differ. In 
habits, sagaciousness and mode of living they 
much resemble each other. Both at the begin¬ 
ning of autumn build dome-shaped dwellings in 
ponds and sheltered lagoons, in which they pass 
the cold winter months. Many of these habita¬ 
tions are almost identical as regards architecture 
and composition. True, the beaver lodge is 
usually the larger, but many times the abode of 
the muskrat is equal in size. One of the photo¬ 
graphs accompanying this article shows such a 
house. An abode of such size in the case of the 
muskrats will shelter many individuals and is 
divided into several good-sized weed-lined living 
chambers. 
Nor does the striking resemblance stop here. 
In habits as well the muskrat and beaver exhibit 
many of the same eccentricities. True, the larger 
animal has learned to build dams which the 
muskrat seems never to have imitated, except 
in a small way, for it, too, sometimes piles up 
mud and sods to form a circular breakwater 
about the scene of its operations when construct¬ 
ing its home in the fall, no doubt for the pur¬ 
pose of keeping the water back out of its way. 
However, there is just sufficient difference in the 
diet of the two species to account for the neces- 
the big German, seeing how the rod was bend¬ 
ing, came down the bank with the agility of a 
sawlog. Jerking the rod from its moorings, 
he gave a tremendous heave. Snap went the 
costly rod, but E, began to haul in his fish hand 
over hand. When the trick was discovered, E.’s 
face would have made a painter's fortune, could 
one have been found brave enough to attempt 
the painting of it. Then followed an interval of 
picturesque language, Dutch, English and pro¬ 
fane; the whole ending in a footrace between 
the accuser and the accused. 
Late in the summer I paid a farewell visit 
to the river, living over old scenes, fishing and 
just idling about. 
“And from the stream we turn away. 
But hear it many an after day.” 
sary and greater ingenuity displayed by the 
beaver in this respect. The muskrat confines it¬ 
self largely to weed stalks, water plants and lily 
bulbs and roots in place of the bark and larger 
growths so delectable to the- beaver. Therefore, 
the smaller rodent has never been compelled to 
dam the water in order to reach his chosen fare, 
and by the very lack of ingenuity displayed in 
doing so, has come less in direct contact with, 
and opposition to, the will of man, and therefore 
has been permitted to exist in places from wh'ch 
the beaver has been exterminated. 
Like the beaver, the muskrat brings forth its 
young in a den made in the side of a high bank, 
if available, and again like its larger relative it 
wanders about in sociable family parties during 
the summer. It delights in sunning itself on the 
edge of a swamp or floating lazily about in some 
cool, isolated pool. At such times it will often 
swim rapidly around in a circle, at the same time 
uttering a peculiar squeaking cry. During the 
warm days its true home seems to be the marsh, 
and its well trod, sinuous trails wind in and out 
beneath the luxuriant growth of water weeds. 
If the muskrat has endured less persecution at 
the hand of man than has the beaver, it has suf¬ 
fered more from birds and lieasts of prey. Its 
smaller size makes it a convenient and easy vic¬ 
tim for eagles, owls and the larger hawks, and 
among its four-footed enemies may be classed 
the otter, mink and fox, who seems especially 
persevering in his war against it. 
In times of danger the muskrat again evinces 
a familiar trait of the beaver and strikes the 
water a warning slap with its hairless tail that 
serves to send all of its little brown comrades 
within hearing distance diving hastily out of 
harm’s way, but not before each has dutifully re¬ 
peated the signal. 
The muskrat rears several litters of young 
each season and this fact no doubt accounts, in 
a large degree, for its abundance in localities 
where other wild life has long since succumbed. 
Of late years, however, its fur has become valu¬ 
able, and it is now persistently hunted and trap¬ 
ped throughout its range; not only in fall and 
winter, but far into the spring months as well. 
A Little Cousin of the Beaver 
By ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR 
