Uncle Thomas tells about the Beaver, and the Singular Manner in
which it Constructs a Dam to confine the Waters of the River; and
about the Hut which it builds for its Habitation. He tells also
about the Curious Nests of the Sociable Grosbeak; and gives a Long
and Entertaining Account of the White Ant of Africa; its
Extraordinary Nest; and the Important Part which it acts in the
Economy of Nature.
"Good evening, Boys! I am going to tell you about a very singular animal
to-night--singular both in its conformation and its habits. I allude to
the Beaver."
"Oh, we shall be so glad to hear about the Beaver, Uncle Thomas. I have
sometimes wondered what sort of an animal it is. It is of its skin that
hats are made--is it not?"
"It is so, Harry--at least it is of the fur with which its skin is
covered. I must tell you about the manufacture of hats at some other
time. Our business at present is with the Beaver itself. I think we
shall get on better by confining our attention to the animal now, and
examine into its habits and instincts."
"Very well, Uncle Thomas, we are all attention."
"The Beaver, which is now only to be found in the more inaccessible
parts of America, and the more northern countries of Europe, affords a
curious instance of what may be called a compound structure. It has the
fore-feet of a land animal, and the hind ones of an aquatic one--the
latter only being webbed. Its tail is covered with scales like a fish,
and serves to direct its course in the water, in which it spends much of
its time.
"On the rivers where they abound, they form societies sometimes
consisting of upwards of two hundred. They begin to assemble about the
months of June and July, and generally choose for the place of their
future habitation the side of some lake or river. If a lake, in which
the water is always pretty nearly of a uniform level, they dispense with
building a dam, but if the place they fix upon be the banks of a river,
they immediately set about constructing a pier or dam, to confine the
water, so that they may always have a good supply."
"That is an instance of very singular sagacity Uncle Thomas. I suppose
it is their instinct which teaches them to act in this manner."
"You are right, Frank. Well, the mode in which they set about
constructing the dam is this: having fixed upon the spot, they go into
the neighbouring forest, and cut quantities of the smaller branches of
trees, which they forthwith convey to the place selected, and having
fixed them in the earth, interweave them strongly and closely, filling
up all the crevices with mud and stones, so as soon to make a most
compact construction."
"That must be a work of very great labour, Uncle Thomas."
"The labour is very considerable, Boys; but the power which, for want of
a better name, we call Instinct, comes wonderfully to their aid. For
instance, it has been observed that they seek all the branches which
they want on the banks of the river, higher up than their construction,
so that having once got them conveyed to the water, they are easily
floated to it."
"Very good, Uncle Thomas."
"When the beavers have finished the dam, they then proceed to construct
a house for themselves. First they dig a foundation of greater or less
capacity, in proportion to the number of their society. They then form
the walls of earth and stones, mixed with billets of wood crossing each
other, and thus tying the fabric together just in the same way as you
sometimes see masons do in building human dwellings. Their huts are
generally of a circular form, something like the figure of a haycock,
and they have usually several entrances--one or more opening into the
river or lake, below the surface of the water, and one communicating
with any bushes and brushwood which may be at hand, so as to afford the
means of escape in case of attack either on the land or water side."
"They must be pretty safe then, Uncle Thomas, since they can so readily
escape."
"They are pretty secure so long as they have only unreasoning animals to
contend with, Frank; but when man, armed with the power, before which
mere Instinct must at all times bow, attacks them, they are very easily
overcome. Shall I tell you how the hunters capture them?"
"If you please, Uncle Thomas."
"Very well. I must first tell you that the skin of the Beaver is most
valuable during winter, as the fur is then thicker and finer than during
the summer. They are therefore very little if at all molested during
summer by the hunters. When winter sets in, however, and the lakes and
rivers are frozen over, a party of hunters set out to seek for the
beaver colonies, and, having found them, they make a number of holes in
the ice. Having done this and concerted measures, they break down the
huts, and the animals instantly get into the water as a place of safety.
As they cannot remain long under water, however, they have soon occasion
to come to the surface to breathe, and of course make for the holes
which the hunters have formed in the ice, when the latter, who are
waiting in readiness, knock them on the head."
"But, Uncle Thomas, don't you think it is very cruel to kill the beaver
so? I believe it feeds entirely on vegetables, and does no harm to any
one."
"You might say the same, John, of the sheep on the downs; the one is not
more cruel than the other: both are useful to man, and furnish him with
food as well as raiment, and both were, of course, included in the
'dominion' which God originally gave to man 'over the beasts of the
field.'"
"Is the beaver used for food, then, Uncle Thomas?"
"It is, and except during a small part of the year, when it feeds on the
root of the water-lily, which communicates a peculiar flavour to the
flesh of the animal, it is said to be very palatable. It is, however,
principally for its fur that it is hunted; the skin, even, is of little
value, being coarser and looser in texture, and of course less
applicable to general uses, than that of many other animals. I dare say
you have often seen it made into gloves.
"I will now read to you an account of a tame beaver, which its owner,
Mr. Broderip, communicated to 'the Gardens and Menagerie of the
Zoological Society.'
"The animal arrived in this country in the winter of 1825, very young,
being small and woolly, and without the covering of long hair, which
marks the adult beaver. It was the sole survivor of five or six which
were shipped at the same time, and was in a very pitiable condition.
Good treatment soon made it familiar. When called by its name, 'Binny,'
it generally answered with a little cry, and came to its owner. The
hearth rug was its favourite haunt, and thereon it would lie, stretched
out, sometimes on its back, and sometimes flat on its belly, but always
near its master. The building instinct showed itself immediately after
it was let out of its cage, and materials were placed in its way,--and
this, before it had been a week in its new quarters. Its strength, even
before it was half grown, was great. It would drag along a large
sweeping-brush, or a warming-pan, grasping the handle with its teeth, so
that the load came over its shoulder, and advancing in an oblique
direction, till it arrived at the point where it wished to place it. The
long and large materials were always taken first, and two of the longest
were generally laid crosswise, with one of the ends of each touching the
wall, and the other ends projecting out into the room. The area formed
by the crossed brushes and the wall he would fill up with hand-brushes,
rush baskets, books, boots, sticks, cloths, dried turf, or any thing
portable. As the work grew high, he supported himself on his tail, which
propped him up admirably: and he would often, after laying on one of his
building materials, sit up over against it, apparently to consider his
work, or, as the country people say, 'judge it.' This pause was
sometimes followed by changing the position of the material 'judged,'
and sometimes it was left in its place. After he had piled up his
materials in one part of the room (for he generally chose the same
place), he proceeded to wall up the space between the feet of a chest of
drawers, which stood at a little distance from it, high enough on its
legs to make the bottom a roof for him; using for this purpose dried
turf and sticks, which he laid very even, and filling up the interstices
with bits of coal, hay, cloth, or any thing he could pick up. This last
place he seemed to appropriate for his dwelling; the former work seemed
to be intended for a dam. When he had walled up the space between the
feet of the chest of drawers, he proceeded to carry in sticks, cloths,
hay, cotton, and to make a nest; and, when he had done, he would sit up
under the drawers, and comb himself with the nails of his hind feet. In
this operation, that which appeared at first to be a malformation, was
shown to be a beautiful adaptation to the necessities of the animal. The
huge webbed hind feet often turn in, so as to give the appearance of
deformities; but if the toes were straight, instead of being incurved,
the animal could not use them for the purpose of keeping its fur in
order, and cleansing it from dirt and moisture.
"Binny generally carried small and light articles between his right fore
leg and his chin, walking on the other three legs; and large masses,
which he could not grasp readily with his teeth, he pushed forwards,
leaning against them with his right fore paw and his chin. He never
carried anything on his tail, which he liked to dip in water, but he was
not fond of plunging in his whole body. If his tail was kept moist, he
never cared to drink, but, if it was kept dry, it became hot, and the
animal appeared distressed, and would drink a great deal. It is not
impossible that the tail may have the power of absorbing water, like the
skin of frogs, though it must be owned that the scaly integument which
invests that member has not much of the character which generally
belongs to absorbing surfaces.
"Bread, and bread and milk, and sugar, formed the principal part of
Binny's food; but he was very fond of succulent fruits and roots. He was
a most entertaining creature; and some highly comic scenes occurred
between the worthy, but slow beaver, and a light and airy macauco, that
was kept in the same apartment."
"I think I have read, Uncle, that beavers use their tails as trowels to
plaster their houses, and as sledges to carry the materials to build
huts."
"I dare say, you have, Frank; but I believe such stories are mere
fables, told by the ignorant to excite wonder in the minds of the
credulous. No such operations have been observed by the most accurate
observers of the animal's habits. The wonderful instinct which they
display in building their houses is quite sufficient to excite our
admiration, without having recourse to false and exaggerated
statements."
"The building instinct of the beaver is very curious, Uncle Thomas. Is
it displayed by any other animal?"
"All animals exhibit it more or less, Harry, and birds in particular, in
the construction of their nests, some of which are very curious indeed;
perhaps one of the most striking instances is that of the Sociable
Grosbeak, a bird which is found in the interior of the Cape of Good
Hope. They construct their nests under one roof, which they form of the
branches of some tall and wide-spreading tree, thatching it all over, as
it were, with a species of grass.
"When they have got their habitation fairly covered in they lay out the
inside, according to some travellers, into regular streets, with nests
on both sides, about a couple of inches distant from each other. In one
respect, however, they differ from the beaver, they do not appear to lay
up a common store of food, the nature of the climate not rendering such
a precaution necessary.
"Here is the account of one of these erections furnished by a gentleman
who minutely examined the structure.
"I observed on the way a tree with an enormous nest of those birds, to
which I have given the appellation of republicans; and, as soon as I
arrived at my camp, I despatched a few men, with a waggon, to bring it
to me, that I might open the hive, and examine the structure in its
minutest parts. When it arrived, I cut it in pieces with a hatchet, and
found that the chief portion of the structure consisted of a mass of
Boshman's grass, without any mixture, but so compact and firmly basketed
together as to be impenetrable to the rain. This is the commencement of
the structure; and each bird builds its particular nest under this
canopy. But the nests are formed only beneath the eaves of the canopy,
the upper surface remaining void, without, however, being useless; for,
as it has a projecting rim, and is a little inclined, it serves to let
the rain-water run off, and preserves each little dwelling from the
rain. Figure to yourself a huge irregular sloping roof, and all the
eaves of which are completely covered with nests, crowded one against
another, and you will have a tolerably accurate idea of these singular
edifices.
"Each individual nest is three or four inches in diameter, which is
sufficient for the bird. But as they are all in contact with one
another, around the eaves, they appear to the eye to form but one
building, and are distinguishable from each other only by a little
external aperture, which serves as an entrance to the nest; and even
this is sometimes common to three different nests, one of which is
situated at the bottom, and the other two at the sides. According to
Paterson, the number of cells increasing in proportion to the increase
of inhabitants, the old ones become 'streets of communication, formed by
line and level.' No doubt, as the republic increases, the cells must be
multiplied also; but it is easy to imagine that, as the augmentation can
take place only at the surface, the new buildings will necessarily cover
the old ones, which must therefore be abandoned.
"Should these even, contrary to all probability, be able to subsist, it
may be presumed that the depth of their situation, by preventing any
circulation and renewal of the air, would render them so extremely hot
as to be uninhabitable. But while they thus become useless, they would
remain what they were before, real nests, and change neither into
streets nor sleeping-rooms.
"The large nest which I examined was one of the most considerable which
I had seen any where on my journey, and contained three hundred and
twenty inhabited cells."
"Well, Uncle Thomas, that is very curious; I don't know which most to
admire. I rather incline to the beaver however, because of the winter
store of food which he lays up."
"There is another animal which displays the building instinct so
remarkably, that I must tell you something about it before we part."
"Which is it, Uncle Thomas?"
"It is the white ant of Africa; it is a little animal, scarcely, if at
all, exceeding in size those of our own country, yet they construct
large nests of a conical or sugar loaf shape, sometimes from ten to
twelve feet in height; and one species builds them so strong and
compact, that even when they are raised to little more than half their
height, the wild-bulls of the country use them as sentinel posts to
watch over the safety of the herd which grazes below.
"Mr. Smeathman, a naturalist fully capable to do justice to the nature
of these erections, states, that on one occasion he and four men stood
on the top of one of them. So you may guess how strong they are."
"Of what are they made, Uncle Thomas? They must be very curious
structures. How very different from the ant hills of England!"
"Very different, indeed, John. They are made of clay and sand, and as in
such a luxuriant climate they soon become coated over with grass, they
quickly assume the appearance of hay-cocks. They are indeed very
remarkable structures, whether we consider them externally or
internally, and are said to excel those of the beaver and the bee in the
same proportion as the inhabitants of the most polished European nation
excel the huts of the rude inhabitants of the country where the
_Termites_ or white ants abound; while in regard to mere size, Mr.
Smeathman calculates that, supposing a man's ordinary height to be six
feet, the nests of these creatures may be considered, relative to their
size and that of man's, as being raised to four times the height of the
largest Egyptian pyramids."
"That is enormous, Uncle Thomas?"
"It is indeed, Frank; but strange though it is, the interior of the nest
is even more remarkable, many parts of its construction falling little
short of human ingenuity. I need not attempt to describe all its
arrangements, which, without a plan, would be nearly unintelligible; but
there is one device so admirable that I must point it out to you. The
nest is formed of two floors, as it were, and all round the walls are
galleries perforated in various winding directions, and leading to the
store-houses of the colony, or to the nurseries where the eggs are
deposited. As it is sometimes convenient to reach the galleries which
open from the upper roof without threading all the intricacies of these
winding passages, they construct bridges of a single arch, and thus at
once reach the upper roof, from which these diverge. They are thus also
saved much labour, in transporting provisions, and in bearing the eggs
to the places where they remain till they are hatched."
"That is indeed admirable, Uncle Thomas; they must be very curious
animals."
"They are divided into various classes, in the same way as bees; choosing
a queen, and some of them acting as workers, &c. But the white ants have
a class to which there is nothing similar among any other race of
insects. These are what Smeathman calls soldiers, from the duties which
they perform. They are much less numerous than the workers, being
somewhat in the proportion of one in one hundred. The duty of the
soldier-insects is to protect the nest when it is attacked. They are
furnished with long and slender jaws, and when enraged bite very
fiercely, and sometimes even drive off the negroes who may have attacked
them, and even white people suffer severely,--the bite bleeding profusely
even through the stocking. Some one who observed the colony alarmed, by
having part of the nest broken down, gives the following account of the
subsequent operations. One of the soldiers first makes his appearance, as
if to see if the enemy be gone, and to learn whence the attack proceeds.
By and by two or three others make their appearance, and soon afterwards
a numerous body rushes out, which increases in number so long as the
attack is continued. They are at this time in a state of the most violent
agitation; some employed in beating upon the building with their
mandibles, so as to make a noise which may be distinctly heard at the
distance of three or four feet. Whenever the attack is discontinued, the
soldiers retire first, and are quickly followed by the labourers, which
hasten in various directions towards the breach, each with a burden of
mortar ready tempered, and thus they soon repair the chasm. Besides the
duty of protecting the colony, the soldiers seem to act as overseers of
the work, one being generally in attendance on every six or eight
hundred; and another, who may be looked upon as commander in chief, takes
up his station close to the wall which they are repairing, and frequently
repeats the beating which I just mentioned, which is instantly answered
by a loud hiss from all the labourers within the dome,--those at work
labouring with redoubled energy."
"But, Uncle Thomas, what can be the use of such animals as white ants? I
really cannot see what use they are for."
"Well, John, I confess I do not much wonder at your question, though, in
putting it, you have forgotten that God makes nothing in vain. Mr.
Smeathman, who tells us so much about these curious animals, has
answered you by anticipation; and his answer is in such a spirit that I
cannot do better than read it to you.
"It may appear surprising how a Being perfectly good should have created
animals which seem to serve no other end but to spread destruction and
desolation wherever they go. But let us be cautious in suspecting any
imperfection in the FATHER OF THE UNIVERSE. What at first sight may seem
only productive of mischief, will, upon mature deliberation, be found
worthy of that wisdom which planned the most beautiful parts of the
world. Many poisons are valuable medicines, Storms are beneficial; and
diseases often promote life. These _Termites_ are indeed frequently
pernicious to mankind, but they are also very useful and even necessary.
One valuable purpose which they serve is, to destroy decayed trees and
other substances which, if left on the surface of the ground in hot
climates, would in a short time pollute the air. In this respect they
resemble very much the common flies, which are regarded by mankind in
general as noxious and, albeit, as useless beings in creation. But this
is certainly for want of consideration. There are not probably in all
nature animals of more importance, and it would not be difficult to
prove that we should feel the want of one or two large quadrupeds much
less than of one or two species of these despicable-looking insects.
Mankind in general are sensible that nothing is more disagreeable or
more pestiferous than putrid substances; and it is apparent to all who
have made observation, that those little insects contribute more to the
quick dissolution and dispersion of putrescent matter than any other.
They are so necessary in all hot climates, that ever in the open fields
a dead animal or small putrid substance cannot be laid upon the ground
two minutes before it will be covered with flies and their maggots,
which, instantly entering, quickly devour one part, and perforating the
rest in various directions, expose the whole to be much sooner
decomposed by the elements. Thus it is with the _Termites_. The rapid
vegetation in hot climates, of which no idea can be formed by any thing
to be seen in this, is equalled by as great a degree of destruction
from natural as well as accidental causes. It seems apparent that when
anything whatever has arrived at its last degree of perfection, the
Creator has decreed that it shall be wholly destroyed as soon as
possible, that the face of nature may be speedily adorned with fresh
productions in the bloom of spring, or the pride of summer; so when
trees and even woods are in part destroyed by tornadoes or fire, it is
wonderful to observe how many agents are employed in hastening the total
dissolution of the rest. But in hot climates there are none so expert,
or who do their business so expeditiously and effectually, as these
insects, which in a few weeks destroy and carry away the bodies of large
trees, without leaving a particle behind; thus clearing the place for
other vegetables which soon fill up every vacancy: and in places where
two or three years before there has been a populous town, if the
inhabitants, as is frequently the case, have chosen to abandon it,
there shall be a very thick wood, and not a vestige of a post to be
seen, unless the wood has been of a species which from its hardness is
called iron wood."
"Thank you, Uncle Thomas. I see, I was quite wrong in supposing that the
ants are of no use. I really did not imagine that they could have been
so serviceable."