wing family, and is also extremely graceful in the
water. Long ago he learned the advantages of co-operation, and he unites
with his fellows in building dams of felled trees, which have been cut
up into suitable length for use in damming up water places. These are
skilfully placed, and with the aid of mud, control the level of the
water in selected places as efficiently as man could do. As a social
animal, the beaver should be ranked among the first; of course, the
various marmots are extremely sociable, but they ordinarily live quite
independently of each other, except in cases where they chance to
congregate because of favourable conditions. The beavers, on the other
hand, thoroughly understand the benefits of united labour, and work
together for the good of the community.

Beavers, if their skill were generally known, would have a great
reputation among their human friends. Recently, at the New York
Zoological Gardens, a visitor was pointing out different animals to his
little son, and when he came to the beaver pond, referred to two of
these dam-builders and tree-cutters, which were swimming through the
water with large sticks in their mouths, as big rats!

Young beavers make their appearance in May, and there are usually from
four to eight to a family. These kittens, as they are called, are odd
looking little fellows, with big heads, large sharp teeth, flat tails,
like little fat paddles, and delicate, soft, mouse-like fur, not at all
coarse like that of their parents. If taken at an early age they make
nice pets and are easily domesticated. In the early days of American
history it was not uncommon to see one running around an Indian lodge,
playing like a child with the little Indians, and frequently receiving
with the papoose nourishment from the mother's breast. Strangely enough,
the cry of the young beaver is exactly like that of the baby child. One
of my friends in Michigan recently stopped at an Indian's house to see a
real live baby beaver. "He cry all same as papoose," remarked the squaw,
as she brought the young beaver out of the house, giving him a little
slap to start him crying--and cry he did!

The body of a grown beaver is usually about thirty inches long, and
something over eleven inches wide; it weighs about sixty pounds. The
fore-paws are quite small in comparison with the rest of the body; the
hind feet are larger, webbed like a duck's feet, and are the principal
motive power in swimming. The mos