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CHAPTER 26
A retrogade move - Channel of a mountain torrent - Alpine scenery - Cascades Beaver valleys - Beavers at work - Their architecture - Their modes of felling trees - Mode of trapping
beaver - Contests of skill - A beaver "up to trap" - Arrival at the Green River caches
THE VIEW from the snowy peak of the Wind River Mountains, while
it had excited Captain Bonneville's enthusiasm, had satisfied him
that it would be useless to force a passage westward, through
multiplying barriers of cliffs and precipices. Turning his face
eastward, therefore, he endeavored to regain the plains,
intending to make the circuit round the southern point of the
mountain. To descend, and to extricate himself from the heart of
this rock-piled wilderness, was almost as difficult as to
penetrate it. Taking his course down the ravine of a tumbling
stream, the commencement of some future river, he descended from
rock to rock, and shelf to shelf, between stupendous cliffs and
beetling crags that sprang up to the sky. Often he had to cross
and recross the rushing torrent, as it wound foaming and roaring
down its broken channel, or was walled by perpendicular
precipices; and imminent was the hazard of breaking the legs of
the horses in the clefts and fissures of slippery rocks. The
whole scenery of this deep ravine was of Alpine wildness and
sublimity. Sometimes the travellers passed beneath cascades which
pitched from such lofty heights that the water fell into the
stream like heavy rain. In other places, torrents came tumbling
from crag to crag, dashing into foam and spray, and making
tremendous din and uproar.
On the second day of their descent, the travellers, having got
beyond the steepest pitch of the mountains, came to where the
deep and rugged ravine began occasionally to expand into small
levels or valleys, and the stream to assume for short intervals a
more peaceful character. Here, not merely the river itself, but
every rivulet flowing into it, was dammed up by communities of
industrious beavers, so as to inundate the neighborhood, and make
continual swamps.
During a mid-day halt in one of these beaver valleys, Captain
Bonneville left his companions, and strolled down the course of
the stream to reconnoitre. He had not proceeded far when he came
to a beaver pond, and caught a glimpse of one of its painstaking
inhabitants busily at work upon the dam. The curiosity of the
captain was aroused, to behold the mode of operating of this
far-famed architect; he moved forward, therefore, with the utmost
caution, parting the branches of the water willows without making
any noise, until having attained a position commanding a view of
the whole pond, he stretched himself flat on the ground, and
watched the solitary workman. In a little while, three others
appeared at the head of the dam, bringing sticks and bushes. With
these they proceeded directly to the barrier, which Captain
Bonneville perceived was in need of repair. Having deposited
their loads upon the broken part, they dived into the water, and
shortly reappeared at the surface. Each now brought a quantity of
mud, with which he would plaster the sticks and bushes just
deposited. This kind of masonry was continued for some time,
repeated supplies of wood and mud being brought, and treated in
the same manner. This done, the industrious beavers indulged in a
little recreation, chasing each other about the pond, dodging and
whisking about on the surface, or diving to the bottom; and in
their frolic, often slapping their tails on the water with a loud
clacking sound. While they were thus amusing themselves, another
of the fraternity made his appearance, and looked gravely on
their sports for some time, without offering to join in them. He
then climbed the bank close to where the captain was concealed,
and, rearing himself on his hind quarters, in a sitting position,
put his forepaws against a young pine tree, and began to cut the
bark with his teeth. At times he would tear off a small piece,
and holding it between his paws, and retaining his sedentary
position, would feed himself with it, after the fashion of a
monkey. The object of the beaver, however, was evidently to cut
down the tree; and he was proceeding with his work, when he was
alarmed by the approach of Captain Bonneville's men, who, feeling
anxious at the protracted absence of their leader, were coming in
search of him. At the sound of their voices, all the beavers,
busy as well as idle, dived at once beneath the surface, and were
no more to be seen. Captain Bonneville regretted this
interruption. He had heard much of the sagacity of the beaver in
cutting down trees, in which, it is said, they manage to make
them fall into the water, and in such a position and direction as
may be most favorable for conveyance to the desired point. In the
present instance, the tree was a tall straight pine, and as it
grew perpendicularly, and there was not a breath of air stirring
the beaver could have felled it in any direction he pleased, if
really capable of exercising a discretion in the matter. He was
evidently engaged in "belting" the tree, and his first incision
had been on the side nearest to the water.
Captain Bonneville, however, discredits, on the whole, the
alleged sagacity of the beaver in this particular, and thinks the
animal has no other aim than to get the tree down, without any of
the subtle calculation as to its mode or direction of falling.
This attribute, he thinks, has been ascribed to them from the
circumstance that most trees growing near water-courses, either
lean bodily toward the stream, or stretch their largest limbs in
that direction, to benefit by the space, the light, and the air
to be found there. The beaver, of course, attacks those trees
which are nearest at hand, and on the banks of the stream or
pond. He makes incisions round them, or in technical phrase,
belts them with his teeth, and when they fall, they naturally
take the direction in which their trunks or branches
preponderate.
"I have often," says Captain Bonneville, "seen trees measuring
eighteen inches in diameter, at the places where they had been
cut through by the beaver, but they lay in all directions, and
often very inconveniently for the after purposes of the animal.
In fact, so little ingenuity do they at times display in this
particular, that at one of our camps on Snake River, a beaver was
found with his head wedged into the cut which he had made, the
tree having fallen upon him and held him prisoner until he died."
Great choice, according to the captain, is certainly displayed by
the beaver in selecting the wood which is to furnish bark for
winter provision. The whole beaver household, old and young, set
out upon this business, and will often make long journeys before
they are suited. Sometimes they cut down trees of the largest
size and then cull the branches, the bark of which is most to
their taste. These they cut into lengths of about three feet,
convey them to the water, and float them to their lodges, where
they are stored away for winter. They are studious of cleanliness
and comfort in their lodges, and after their repasts, will carry
out the sticks from which they have eaten the bark, and throw
them into the current beyond the barrier. They are jealous, too,
of their territories, and extremely pugnacious, never permitting
a strange beaver to enter their premises, and often fighting with
such virulence as almost to tear each other to pieces. In the
spring, which is the breeding season, the male leaves the female
at home, and sets off on a tour of pleasure, rambling often to a
great distance, recreating himself in every clear and quiet
expanse of water on his way, and climbing the banks occasionally
to feast upon the tender sprouts of the young willows. As summer
advances, he gives up his bachelor rambles, and bethinking
himself of housekeeping duties, returns home to his mate and his
new progeny, and marshals them all for the foraging expedition in
quest of winter provisions.
After having shown the public spirit of this praiseworthy little
animal as a member of a community, and his amiable and exemplary
conduct as the father of a family, we grieve to record the perils
with which he is environed, and the snares set for him and his
painstaking household.
Practice, says Captain Bonneville, has given such a quickness of
eye to the experienced trapper in all that relates to his
pursuit, that he can detect the slightest sign of beaver, however
wild; and although the lodge may be concealed by close thickets
and overhanging willows, he can generally, at a single glance,
make an accurate guess at the number of its inmates. He now goes
to work to set his trap; planting it upon the shore, in some
chosen place, two or three inches below the surface of the water,
and secures it by a chain to a pole set deep in the mud. A small
twig is then stripped of its bark, and one end is dipped in the
"medicine," as the trappers term the peculiar bait which they
employ. This end of the stick rises about four inches above the
surface of the water, the other end is planted between the jaws
of the trap. The beaver, possessing an acute sense of smell, is
soon attracted by the odor of the bait. As he raises his nose
toward it, his foot is caught in the trap. In his fright he
throws a somerset into the deep water. The trap, being fastened
to the pole, resists all his efforts to drag it to the shore; the
chain by which it is fastened defies his teeth; he struggles for
a time, and at length sinks to the bottom and is drowned.
Upon rocky bottoms, where it is not possible to plant the pole,
it is thrown into the stream. The beaver, when entrapped, often
gets fastened by the chain to sunken logs or floating timber; if
he gets to shore, he is entangled in the thickets of brook
willows. In such cases, however, it costs the trapper diligent
search, and sometimes a bout at swimming, before he finds his
game.
Occasionally it happens that several members of a beaver family
are trapped in succession. The survivors then become extremely
shy, and can scarcely be "brought to medicine," to use the
trapper's phrase for "taking the bait." In such case, the trapper
gives up the use of the bait, and conceals his traps in the usual
paths and crossing places of the household. The beaver now being
completely "up to trap," approaches them cautiously, and springs
them ingeniously with a stick. At other times, he turns the traps
bottom upwards, by the same means, and occasionally even drags
them to the barrier and conceals them in the mud. The trapper now
gives up the contest of ingenuity, and shouldering his traps,
marches off, admitting that he is not yet "up to beaver."
On the day following Captain Bonneville's supervision of the
industrious and frolicsome community of beavers, of which he has
given so edifying an account, he succeeded in extricating himself
from the Wind River Mountains, and regaining the plain to the
eastward, made a great bend to the south, so as to go round the
bases of the mountains, and arrived without further incident of
importance, at the old place of rendezvous in Green River valley,
on the 17th of September.
He found the caches, in which he had deposited his superfluous
goods and equipments, all safe, and having opened and taken from
them the necessary supplies, he closed them again; taking care to
obliterate all traces that might betray them to the keen eyes of
Indian marauders.
Content of CHAPTER 26 [Washington Irving's book: The Adventures of Captain Bonneville]
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