44 LITTLE FOLKS 
generally is when he is out — he bristles up his quills and rattles 
them loudly, to assure everybody that desires to attack him, that 
he is armed, and ready. 
Fortunately he is not very large, not more than two feet long. 
He is not a beauty, any way you look at him. He has a clumsy 
head, short ears, wide mouth, an awkard walk. He is not fond of 
society, (he don't look very sociable, does he ?) He lives in a bur- 
row alone, and comes out nights, as I said, for his food, which 
consists of herbs and fruit. Baby Porcupines come into the world 
with the full stock of quills. 
Strange as it seems, this unhappy looking fellow is good to 
eat, tasting something like fresh pork. He sheds his quills period- 
ically, as birds shed their feathers. They are dangerous weapons 
to animals, for if one gets in where he cannot get it out, it gradually 
works its way in till it is completely buried in the flesh. Often it 
works into some vital part, and kills the animal. 
The quills are also useful ; first for penholders, from their light- 
ness, and also for making ornamental boxes and baskets. Porcu- 
pine hunting is a regular sport in some countries, and among the 
rest in Africa, where it is hunted by the natives. When an en- 
raged Porcupine gets among a party of hunters, it runs at them 
backwards, so fast and furious that the bare-legged natives have to 
run and jump over it, and get out of its way as best they can. 
Sometimes the performance is very amusing. 
The common Porcupine does not live in our country, but one 
of his cousins of the 'same warlike disposition is a native, and is 
very useful to the Indians. They eat his flesh, use his skin for 
various purposes, and with his quills — which they dye in bright 
colors — they embroider figures on their bark works and on moc- 
casins. 
There is another animal living in Australia and called a Porcu- 
pine, though his name should be Porcupine Ant-Eater. Here is a 
picture of him. He has some odd ways. If he is pursued, he will 
settle on the ground, arch up his back, draw all four legs under him, 
and scratch away the ground so fast, that he sinks out of sight 
before your very eyes, and before you can get hold of him. 
In fact, getting hold of him is not much more agreeable than 
of his namesake. When he is caught he has an inconvenient way 
of holding on. He will fasten himself to a flat board with all four 
of his feet, and his head curled under him in such a way that one 
