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Muskrat — Part 2
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Cabins so placed are generally composed largely of cattail stalks and green twigs, while those on the ground are more often built of mud and pieces of sod. The cabins are not much used except at times of high water and in winter, though I doubt if they are ever wholly abandoned at any season. So long as the streams remain frozen, the muskrat is practically free from care and danger. The temperature about him hardly varies a degree whatever the weather may be above the ice. He knows nothing of snowstorms or sleet or high winds while the ice holds firm, though the rushing wind-driven water may be deep over the ice in times of freshet. Down where he is at work it flows with the same gentle motions as in summer, barely swinging the water weed and cresses as it slips between them. There is generally plenty of air to be had close up under the edge of the bank beneath the ice, and when this is not within reach, he has only to expel the air from his lungs against the undersurface of the ice when it is quickly purified by contact with the freezing water.
It frequently happens that the water, falling away from the ice, leaves extended caverns the width of the stream at high water and roofed over with semitransparent ice, like ground glass, that admits only a dim half-light from above.
The banks of coarse wet grass and mud show dimly along this strange underworld with the quiet unfrozen water holding its still course between them; and here the muskrats are free to come and go as they please, and swim, with their heads out of water, as in summer, breathing the air as they go. About the only enemies that follow them here are the minks and otters who come ostensibly to fish, yet are ever ready to seize any unwary musquash that comes their way.
This state of things seldom lasts for any length of time, however; either the ice sinks from its own weight or a thaw fills the streams again, and in either case the muskrats are forced on short rations of air once more, searching for stray bubbles along the edge of the ice--a strange economy in the winter life of a warm-blooded creature.
Early in the spring they begin to look for air holes under sheltered banks that gather the sun's heat and reflect it back at midday from the bottom, and here they bring their sweet flags and lily roots in order to enjoy them in the free air. The various openings broaden and extend their boundaries, and run together until the ice is reduced to a rapidly diminishing border along each shore.
While the streams are kept full by the melting snow and spring rains, the muskrats are somewhat restricted in their choice of landing places, and every projecting fence-rail and stump or leaning willow tree is taken advantage of.
As the water recedes they resort to the tussocks as fast as they are uncovered, and by mid-spring generally have their familiar landing places and byways through the sedge well established.
But even now, when no longer imprisoned by the ice, they swim oftener under water than on the surface, only rising from time to time to renew their breath. Their families are raised, not in their cabins but in their homes high up in the bank, two or three litters in a season, the youngest seldom more than half grown, before the still water is again skimmed over at night by the new ice of the coming winter.
In summer, during the heat of the day, muskrats are especially fond of swimming and floating about in the shadow of old willow trees, where the water is deep and cool; sometimes you will see one swimming around in short circles as if trying to catch its own tail, and uttering a curious little whimpering cry, which, although it sounds decidedly unhappy, is, I am inclined to think, a note of contentment, rather than distress.
It is very seldom heard except when the little animal is alone, and I have never been able to guess at its significance; it is quite different from the call-note which they use to attract one another's attention at a distance, or their more rat-like squeaking.
The signal with which one warns the rest of danger is a smart slap of the muscular tail on the water.
One morning, before the light had begun to come in the east, I was sitting on the margin of a stream where there is a muskrat colony, waiting for the wild ducks that come in from the sea at daybreak.