Rolf In The Woods - Ernest Thompson Seton (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗
- Author: Ernest Thompson Seton
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Now That They Had The Cabin For Winter, And Food For The Present,
They Must Set About The Serious Business Of Trapping And Lay A
Line Of Deadfalls For Use In The Coming Cold Weather. They Were
A Little Ahead Of Time, But It Was Very Desirable To Get Their
Lines Blazed Through The Woods In All Proposed Directions In Case
Of Any Other Trapper Coming In. Most Fur-Bearing Animals Are To
Be Found Along The Little Valleys Of The Stream: Beaver, Otter,
Mink, Muskrat, Coon, Are Examples. Those That Do Not Actually
Live By The Water Seek These Places Because Of Their Sheltered
Character And Because Their Prey Lives There; Of This Class Are
The Lynx, Fox, Fisher, And Marten That Feed On Rabbits And Mice.
Therefore A Line Of Traps Is Usually Along Some Valley And Over
The Divide And Down Some Other Valley Back To The Point Of
Beginning.
So, Late In September, Rolf And Quonab, With Their Bedding, A
Pot, Food For Four Days, And Two Axes, Alternately Followed And
Led By Skookum, Set Out Along A Stream That Entered The Lake Near
Their Cabin. A Quarter Mile Up They Built Their First Deadfall
For Martens. It Took Them One Hour And Was Left Unset. The
Place Was Under A Huge Tree On A Neck Of Land Around Which The
Stream Made A Loop. This Tree They Blazed On Three Sides. Two
Hundred Yards Up Another Good Spot Was Found And A Deadfall Made.
At One Place Across A Neck Of Land Was A Narrow Trail Evidently
Worn By Otters. "Good Place For Steel Trap, Bime-By," Was
Quonab's Remark.
From Time To Time They Disturbed Deer, And In A Muddy Place Where
A Deer Path Crossed The Creek, They Found, Among The Numerous
Small Hoof Prints, The Track Of Wolves, Bears, And A Mountain
Lion, Or Panther. At These Little Skookum Sniffed Fearsomely,
And Showed By His Bristly Mane That He Was At Least Much
Impressed.
After Five Hours' Travel And Work They Came To Another Stream
Joining On, And Near The Angle Of The Two Little Valleys They
Found A Small Tree That Was Chewed And Scratched In A Remarkable
Manner For Three To Six Feet Up. "Bear Tree," Said Quonab, And By
Degrees Rolf Got The Facts About It.
The Bears, And Indeed Most Animals, Have A Way Of Marking The
Range That They Consider Their Own. Usually This Is Done By
Leaving Their Personal Odour At Various Points, Covering The
Country Claimed, But In Some Cases Visible Marks Are Added. Thus
The Beaver Leaves A Little Dab Of Mud, The Wolf Scratches With
His Hind Feet, And The Bear Tears The Signal Tree With Tooth And
Claw. Since This Is Done From Time To Time, When The Bear
Happens To Be Near The Tree, It Is Kept Fresh As Long As The
Region Is Claimed. But It Is Especially Done In Midsummer When
The Bears Are Pairing, And Helps Them To Find Suitable
Companions, Nor All Are Then Roaming The Woods Seeking Mates; All
Call And Leave Their Mark On The Sign Post, So The Next Bear,
Thanks To His Exquisite Nose, Can Tell At Once The Sex Of The
Bear That Called Last And By Its Track Tell Which Way It
Travelled Afterward.
In This Case It Was A Bear's Register, But Before Long Quonab
Showed Rolf A Place Where Two Long Logs Joined At An Angle By A
Tree That Was Rubbed And Smelly, And Showed A Few Marten Hairs,
Indicating That This Was The Sign Post Of A Marten And A Good
Place To Make A Deadfall.
Yet A Third Was Found In An Open, Grassy Glade, A Large, White
Stone On Which Were Pellets Left By Foxes. The Indian Explained:
"Every Fox That Travels Near Will Come And Smell The Stone To See
Who Of His Kind Is Around, So This Is A Good Place For A
Fox-Trap; A Steel Trap, Of Course, For No Fox Will Go Into A
Deadfall."
And Slowly Rolf Learned That These Habits Are Seen In Some
Measure In All Animals; Yes, Down To The Mice And Shrews. We See
Little Of It Because Our Senses Are Blunt And Our Attention
Untrained; But The Naturalist And The Hunter Always Know Where To
Look For The Four-Footed Inhabitants And By Them Can Tell Whether
Or Not The Land Is Possessed By Such And Such A Furtive Tribe.
Chapter 23 (The Beaver Pond)At The Noon Halt They Were About Ten Miles From Home And Had Made
Fifteen Deadfalls For Marten, For Practice Was Greatly Reducing
The Time Needed For Each.
In The Afternoon They Went On, But The Creek Had Become A Mere
Rill And They Were Now High Up In A More Level Stretch Of Country
That Was More Or Less Swampy. As They Followed The Main Course Of
The Dwindling Stream, Looking Ever For Signs Of Fur-Bearers, They
Crossed And Recrossed The Water. At Length Quonab Stopped,
Stared, And Pointed At The Rill, No Longer Clear But Clouded With
Mud. His Eyes Shone As He Jerked His Head Up Stream And Uttered
The Magic Word, "Beaver."
They Tramped Westerly For A Hundred Yards Through A Dense Swamp
Of Alders, And Came At Last To An Irregular Pond That Spread Out
Among The Willow Bushes And Was Lost In The Swampy Thickets.
Following The Stream They Soon Came To A Beaver Dam, A Long,
Curving Bank Of Willow Branches And Mud, Tumbling Through The Top
Of Which Were A Dozen Tiny Streams That Reunited Their Waters
Below To Form The Rivulet They Had Been Following.
Red-Winged Blackbirds Were Sailing In Flocks About The Pond; A
Number Of Ducks Were To Be Seen, And On A Dead Tree, Killed By
The Backed Up Water, A Great Blue Heron Stood. Many Smaller
Creatures Moved Or Flitted In The Lively Scene, While Far Out
Near The Middle Rose A Dome-Like Pile Of Sticks, A Beaver Lodge,
And Farther Three More Were Discovered. No Beaver Were Seen, But
The Fresh Cut Sticks, The Floating Branches Peeled Of All The
Bark, And The Long, Strong Dam In Good Repair Were Enough To Tell
A Practised Eye That Here Was A Large Colony Of Beavers In
Undisturbed Possession.
In Those Days Beaver Was One Of The Most Valued Furs. The
Creature Is Very Easy To Trap; So The Discovery Of The Pond Was
Like The Finding Of A Bag Of Gold. They Skirted Its Uncertain
Edges And Quonab Pointed Out The Many Landing Places Of The
Beaver; Little Docks They Seemed, Built Up With Mud And Stones
With Deep Water Plunge Holes Alongside. Here And There On The
Shore Was A Dome-Shaped Ant's Nest With A Pathway To It From The
Pond, Showing, As The Indian Said, That Here The Beaver Came On
Sunny Days To Lie On The Hill And Let The Swarming Ants Come
Forth And Pick The Vermin From Their Fur. At One High Point
Projecting Into The Still Water They Found A Little Mud Pie With
A Very Strong Smell; This, The Indian Said, Was A "Castor Cache,"
The Sign That, Among Beavers, Answers The Same Purpose As The
Bear Tree Among Bears.
Although The Pond Seemed Small They Had To Tramp A Quarter Of A
Mile Before Reaching The Upper End And Here They Found Another
Dam, With Its Pond. This Was At A Slightly Higher Level And
Contained A Single Lodge; After This They Found Others, A Dozen
Ponds In A Dozen Successive Rises, The First Or Largest And The
Second Only Having Lodges, But All Were Evidently Part Of The
Thriving Colony, For Fresh Cut Trees Were Seen On Every Side.
"Ugh, Good; We Get Maybe Fifty Beaver," Said The Indian, And They
Knew They Had Reached The Promised Land.
Rolf Would Gladly Have Spent The Rest Of The Day Exploring The
Pond And Trying For A Beaver, When The Eventide Should Call Them
To Come Forth, But Quonab Said, "Only Twenty Deadfall; We Should
Have One Hundred And Fifty." So Making For A Fine Sugar Bush On
The Dry Ground West Of The Ponds They Blazed A Big Tree, Left A
Deadfall There, And Sought The Easiest Way Over The Rough Hills
That Lay To The East, In Hopes Of Reaching The Next Stream
Leading Down To Their Lake.
Chapter 24 (The Porcupine)
Skookum Was A Partly Trained Little Dog; He Would Stay In Camp
When Told, If It Suited Him; And Would Not Hesitate To Follow Or
Lead His Master, When He Felt That Human Wisdom Was Inferior To
The Ripe Product Of Canine Experience Covering More Than Thirteen
Moons Of Recollection. But He Was Now Living A Life In Which His
Previous Experience Must Often Fail Him As A Guide. A Faint
Rustling On The Leafy Ground Had Sent Him Ahead At A Run, And His
Sharp, Angry Bark Showed That Some Hostile Creature Of The Woods
Had Been Discovered. Again And Again The Angry Yelping Was
Changed Into A Sort Of Yowl, Half Anger, Half Distress. The
Hunters Hurried Forward To Find The Little Fool Charging Again
And Again A Huge Porcupine That Was Crouched With Its Head Under
A Log, Its Hindquarters Exposed But Bristling With Spines; And
Its Tail Lashing About, Left A New Array Of Quills In The Dog's
Mouth And Face Each Time He Charged. Skookum Was A Plucky
Fighter, But Plainly He Was Nearly Sick Of It. The Pain Of The
Quills Would, Of Course, Increase Every Minute And With Each
Movement. Quonab Took A Stout Stick And Threw The Porcupine Out
Of Its Retreat, (Rolf Supposed To Kill It When The Head Was
Exposed,) But The Spiny One, Finding A New And Stronger Enemy,
Wasted No Time In Galloping At Its Slow Lumbering Pace To The
Nearest Small Spruce Tree And Up That It Scrambled To A Safe
Place In The High Branches.
Now The Hunters Called The Dog. He Was A Sorry-Looking Object,
Pawing At His Muzzle, First With One Foot, Then Another, Trying
To Unswallow The Quills In His Tongue, Blinking Hard, Uttering
Little Painful Grunts And Whines As He Rubbed His Head Upon The
Ground Or On His Forelegs. Rolf Held Him While Quonab, With A
Sharp Jerk, Brought Out Quill After Quill. Thirty Or Forty Of
The Poisonous Little Daggers Were Plucked From His Trembling
Legs, Head, Face, And Nostrils, But The Dreadful Ones Were Those
In His Lips And Tongue. Already They Were Deeply Sunk In The
Soft, Quivering Flesh. One By One Those In The Lips Were With-
Drawn By The Strong Fingers Of The Red Man, And Skookum Whimpered
A Little, But He Shrieked Outright When Those In The
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