Badger. He _will_ dig holes that endanger horse's legs and rider's
necks. He may destroy Gophers, Ground-squirrels, Prairie-dogs, insects,
and a hundred enemies of the farm; he may help the crops in a thousand
different ways, _but he will dig post-holes where they are not wanted_,
and this indiscretion has made many enemies for the kindest and
sturdiest of all the squatters on the plains.

THE VALIANT, HARMLESS BADGER

From the Saskatchewan to Mexico he ranges, and from Illinois to
California, wherever there are dry, open plains supplied with
Ground-squirrels and water.

[Illustration]

Many times, in crossing the rolling plains of Montana, the uplands of
Arizona and New Mexico, or the prairies of Manitoba, I have met with
Mittenusk, as the redmen call him. Like a big white stone perched on
some low mound he seems. But the wind makes cracks in it at places, and
then it moves--giving plain announcement to the world with eyes to see
that this is a Badger sunning himself. He seldom allows a near approach,
even in the Yellowstone, where he is safe, and is pretty sure to drop
down out of sight in his den long before one gets within camera range.
The Badger is such a subterranean, nocturnal creature at most times that
for long his home life escaped our observation, but at last a few
paragraphs, if not a chapter of it, have been secured, and we find that
this shy creature, in ill odour among cattlemen as noted, is a rare and
lovely character when permitted to unbend in a congenial group. Sturdy,
strong and dogged, and brave to the last ditch, the more we know of the
Badger the more we respect him.

Let us pass lightly over the facts that in makeup he is between a Bear
and a Weasel, and that he weighs about twenty pounds, and has a soft
coat of silvery gray and some label marks of black on his head.

He feeds chiefly on Ground-squirrels, which he digs out, but does not
scorn birds' eggs, or even fruit and grain at times. Except for an
occasional sun-bath, he spends the day in his den and travels about
mostly by night. He minds his own business, if let alone, but woe be to
the creature of the plains that tries to molest him, for he has the
heart of a bulldog, the claws of a Grizzly, and the jaws of a small
crocodile.

I shall never forget my first meeting with Old Silver-grizzle. It was on
the plains of the Souris, in 1882. I saw this broad, low, whitish
creature on the prairie, not far from the trail, and, impelled by