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.
