As might naturally be expected, the sagacity of the beaver has been exaggerated by report. It was said to be acquainted with the art of pile driving, and to use its tail after the fashion of a mason’s trowel, in plastering and smoothing the exterior and interior of its house. These myths have been dissipated by more accurate observation. The beaver has no natural means of pile driving. Were it to endeavour to drive down a thick pile with its tail, it would injure that organ to a degree altogether incommensurate with the downward impulse it would impart to the pile, and great as its sagacity may be, it has not been able to invent a pile driver worked either by mechanism or by steam. Its dams are formed from the trunks and arms of trees floated down to a shallow point in the stream; here they lodge, others are piled upon them, the boughs interlaced, and stones and clay from the bottom are heaped upon them, until the whole forms a solid mass, capable of resisting the stream even in flood. Where the flow of water is but small, the dam is constructed in a straight line across it; where it is liable to be swollen greatly by rain, it is built in a concave form, so as to break the force of the current. Man himself could not better appreciate the necessities of the situation. In streams where the supply of water is constant it is unnecessary for the beaver to build dams, as the purpose of these is only to maintain the water at a level sufficient to cover the entrance of their houses. Even in these cases the beaver often miscalculates the length of the wolverine’s fore leg, and the latter will lie for hours patiently awaiting the passage in or out of a beaver, and then grasp it under water. That the beaver should allow the wolverine this opportunity detracts somewhat from its character for foresight.

The houses themselves are built much after the fashion of the dams, except that timber forms a smaller proportion of the mass, which is composed principally of mud and stones. Sometimes, especially when circumstances restrict the space available for house building, two or more families will live under the same roof, but each abode has its separate entrance, and privacy is thus preserved.

The beaver bestows no pains whatever upon the furnishing of its house, the interior of which is as bare as that of an Arab tent. There is a platform raised above the level of the water, where the beaver and his family can dry and comb their fur, they being more particular in the latter respect than the human female of the present day, whose tastes lie wholly in the direction of disorder and fuzziness. The habits of the beaver when at home have not been sufficiently studied to enable them to be described with any accuracy, the beaver having a marked objection to such investigations. That they are sociable in their habits is evident by the way in which they will congregate on the roofs of their houses, but whether they visit each other and have entertainments analogous to afternoon tea is unknown. It may be considered probable, however, that the females meet and compare notes as to their families and domestic arrangements; but, as it does not appear that any of the beavers stand to each other in the relation of master and servant, one of the most fruitful topics of gossip must be wanting. The beaver is not, like the otter,—the quadruped whose habits most closely resemble its own,—a fish-eater, but like its distant cousin, the vole, feeds entirely upon vegetables, its favourite diet being the stalk of an aquatic plant which in appearance resembles a cabbage stalk; it will, however, eat almost anything in the way of vegetables. In captivity its tastes become modified, and it will, like the dog, accommodate itself to circumstances, and eat meat, pudding, or anything else that its master may be taking. It is very easily tamed, and becomes extremely affectionate and attached to those around it.

As may be expected, nature in making the beaver a builder furnished it with teeth of extraordinary hardness and wonderful cutting powers. These are composed of an extremely hard coat of enamel, the rest of the tooth being of a comparatively soft substance, whereby a cutting, chisel-like edge is obtained: the enamel growing as fast as it is worn away by use, a sharp edge is constantly maintained. So excellent a cutting instrument is it, that the Indians in the days before iron was at their disposal used to fix beaver teeth in wooden handles with which to cut bone and fashion their horn-tipped spears. The beaver can cut down trees of ten inches in diameter. It sits upon its branches like a squirrel while performing the work, and always makes one side of the cut a good deal higher than the other, by which means it is able to make the tree fall in any desired direction with an accuracy as great as that of the cleverest woodman.

It is a pity that the beaver has not been domesticated in this country, for a colony at work would be a most interesting feature in a park, and the young would furnish most amusing pets. Like many other animals, beavers when at work always place one of their number on guard, and the approach of danger is indicated by a loud-sounding flap of the broad tail. This tail, as the beaver climbs over its house in the course of construction, doubtless aids in smoothing down the surface, and they occasionally give a flap with it, but there is no reason for believing that it is used by them for the absolute purpose of plastering. It is much to be regretted that so interesting an animal is rapidly disappearing from the face of the earth.