MEADOW-MICE [3]—HAMSTERS—DORMICE
“Another kind of rodent now calls for our attention: it is the family
of meadow-mice, commonly confounded with rats. Meadow-mice are easily
recognized by their short, slightly hairy tail.
“The meadow-mouse is about as large as a common mouse. Its coat is of a
yellowish hue mixed with gray above and dirty white underneath. The
tail is only one-quarter as long as the body. The eyes are large and
prominent, the ears rounded, hairy, and standing out but little from
the fur. The head is large and less pointed than that of the ordinary
mouse.
“In its rapid and abundant breeding the meadow-mouse is one of the
farmer’s chief foes. It overruns grain-fields especially, cutting down
the stalks to nibble the ears. After harvest it attacks clover roots,
carrots, potatoes, and the products in general of our kitchen-gardens.
In winter it digs under the furrows to eat the seeds sown there. If the
soil is so frost-bound as not to permit it to reach the buried seed, it
retires to the stacks of grain, where it does great damage. It never
makes its way into our dwellings. Meadow-mice appear to emigrate from
one country to another in colonies when the country they have ravaged
can no longer supply them with food; at any rate, from time to time,
once or twice in a decade, they suddenly appear in countless droves
that are a real scourge to the country visited. The best destroyers of
these creatures are nocturnal birds of prey, as is proved by the
presence of their skulls, bones, and skins in the balls that are thrown
up by these birds after digestion. Some say diurnal birds of prey,
buzzards in particular, are equally fond of them. It is not at all
uncommon to find in a buzzard’s crop as many as ten or more
meadow-mice.
“The underground meadow-mouse is much less common in France than the
one just described, from which it differs in its gray-and-blackish
coat, its somewhat smaller tail, and its tiny eyes. But the greatest
difference is in its habits. The first-mentioned lives in the fields,
especially in grain-fields, while the second frequents meadows and
kitchen-gardens. It feeds on various kinds of vegetables, such as
celery, artichokes, carrots, potatoes, and cardoons. It seldom shows
itself out of its underground tunnels, and on account of its habit of
lurking beneath the surface it is called the underground meadow-mouse.
“The amphibian meadow-mouse is commonly known by the name of water-rat.
We can easily tell it from the black rat, which is of about the same
size, by its red coat, its short tail (which is not quite half the
length of its body), and its larger and less pointed head. It burrows
under the banks of streams, ditches, and marshes, where it feeds
chiefly on roots, but does not disdain small fish when it can catch
them. It is a good swimmer and diver. Sometimes it makes its way into
kitchen-gardens, where it does the same sort of harm as the underground
meadow-mouse, and into orchards, where it gnaws the base of young
trees.
“The lemming is never seen around here. It frequents the coasts of the
Arctic Ocean in Norway and Lapland. I will tell you something about it
on account of its curious way of traveling from one country to another,
of which our meadow-mouse offers us a far less striking example. The
lemming, with its very short and hairy tail, its big head, and its
stocky body, has the appearance of a small rabbit. Its coat is red
marbled with black and brown.
“At the approach of severe cold weather, and sometimes with no apparent
reason, the lemmings leave their haunts in the high mountain chains of
Norway and set out on a long journey toward the sea. The emigrating
horde, composed of myriads of individuals, trot in a straight line over
all obstacles, never allowing themselves to be turned from their
course. In traveling in a line, one after another, says Linnæus, the
great Swedish naturalist, they trace straight parallel furrows, two or
three fingers deep and several ells apart. They devour everything
eatable that obstructs their passage, all roots and herbage. Nothing
turns them from their course. Let a man appear in their path, and they
slip between his legs. If they come to a haystack they gnaw a tunnel
through it; reaching a rock, they skirt it in a semicircle and then
resume their original direction. Should a lake be encountered on their
route, they swim across it in a straight line, however wide it may be.
If a boat is in their way in the middle of a body of water, they
clamber over it and jump into the water again on the other side. A
swiftly flowing river does not stop them: they plunge into the foaming
current even if they all perish.”
“They must be very obstinate,” said Emile, “to prefer to drown rather
than turn their procession out of a straight line.”
“Animals sometimes show these examples of obstinacy, which we cannot
understand, but which might easily be explained if we knew the motives
that make them act thus. Perhaps by deviating from a straight line the
lemmings might lose their way, a way provided with no finger-posts, but
indicated simply by instinct. However, we will leave them to pursue
their long pilgrimage, from which few will return, so numerous are the
dangers and the enemies awaiting them on the way. Let them cross their
rivers and lakes while we return to the rodents of France.
“The hamster abounds in central Europe, notably in Alsace. It is also
called the Strasbourg marmot or rye pig. It is almost as large as the
black rat, but is more stocky. Its tail is short and hairy, its fur red
on the back, black under the belly, with yellowish spots on the flanks,
a white spot on the throat, and another on each shoulder.
“Hamsters live on roots, fruit, and especially cereals, of which they
store up a large supply. Each animal digs a burrow composed of several
rooms, the largest of which is used as a granary. There they store rye
and wheat, beans and peas, vetch and linseed. The hamster hoards like a
miser, laying up far more than it will ever need, simply for the
satisfaction of hoarding. In some of its store-rooms as much as two
hundredweight of provisions may be found. What can a creature no bigger
than your fist do with all these supplies? Winter comes, and the
hamster shuts itself up in its underground quarters, assured of food
and lodging, and grows big and fat. If the cold is very severe it goes
to sleep like the marmot.”
“And what about the two hundredweight of grain collected, a kernel at a
time?” queried Emile.
“The whole supply simply spoils and is so much waste; but little does
the hamster care; he begins all over again the next year. The animal’s
special business is, first and foremost, to ravage fields, as is proved
by the pile of grain it stores up, out of all proportion to its needs.
It hoards food to destroy it, far more than to be sure of something to
eat, being very different in this way from most hibernating animals. In
the midst of all its stores of food, if the winter is very cold, it is
overtaken by the same torpor that saves the hedgehog and the bat from
death by starvation. This miser has not even the excuse of want. Happy
are those regions that it does not rob! Let us pass on to other
rodents.”
“There are, then, still more of these greedy animals?” Jules inquired.
“Yes; they are somewhat like insects: after they are all gone there are
still some left. The world seems to be a pasture delivered over to the
mandibles of larvæ and the incisors of rodents.
“Dormice, of many varieties, live in the woods and orchards and eat
fruit. These rodents have the agility, elegance of form, and rich fur
of squirrels. They make their home in hollow tree trunks, holes in
walls, and crannies in rocks. During the winter, when fruit is lacking,
they remain in a deep sleep.
“The dormouse proper is found in Provence and Roussillon. It is a
pretty creature, reminding one of the squirrel. Its tail is long and
thickly covered with hair; its fur ashy brown on the back and whitish
under the belly. At night it ravages the fruit-trees, and no one knows
better how to pick out the pear, the peach, or the plum at just the
right stage of ripeness. You have, let us suppose, looked over your
fruit with satisfaction and decided to give it one more day of sunshine
to bring it to perfection. The next morning you go out to gather the
harvest and, lo and behold, it is gone; the dormouse has been there
before you.
“The garden dormouse is smaller, being about as large as the black rat.
Its coat is a pleasing mixture of red, white, and black, the back being
red, the belly, paws, cheeks, and shoulders white, and the parts about
the eyes and down the sides of the neck black. This animal is scattered
all over France. It lurks about dwellings, in gardens, and among vines
and shrubbery, living chiefly on fruit, which it ruins in great
quantities, tasting first one choice specimen and then another, without
finishing any of them. Garden dormice spend the winter several in one
hole, where they sleep all curled up amid the supplies of walnuts,
almonds, and hazelnuts that they have laid up.”
“Then if they sleep,” said Emile, “they don’t need any food.”
“Pardon me, my boy; they do need food, and badly, though not while
sleeping, but when they wake up. This awakening takes place at the
beginning of spring, when the sun is first warming up the earth. At
that time of year there is no fruit to be had; and the garden dormice,
after their fast of several months, have a tremendous appetite, as you
can easily imagine. What would become of them now, poor little things,
if it were not for their supply of nuts?”
“Those little dormice are very prudent,” Emile remarked. “They know
that at the end of their long winter’s sleep they won’t find any fruit
in the orchards, and so they lay up provisions beforehand. But why
don’t they put by apples and pears if they are so fond of them?”
“Because apples and pears would spoil, whereas almonds and hazelnuts
keep very well.”
“That’s so. I hadn’t thought of that, but the little dormouse had.”
“No, it does not think of it, either. It does not know that pears spoil
and nuts keep, because it has never tried to keep pears. It does not
foresee that when it wakes up, the fruit-trees will not be bearing
fruit, will hardly have their first leaves; it does not know how long
it would have to wait to find a pear to nibble; it knows nothing of all
these things, which it is now about to become aware of, perhaps for the
first time, through experience. Some one else thinks for the dormouse
and gives it the prudence to store up nuts in a hole in the wall; some
one who understands, foresees, and knows everything. And that some one
is God, the Father of the man who plants the pear-tree, and Father also
of the little dormouse that is so fond of pears.”