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Woodchuck — Part 5
Images coming soon.
Only the other day an instance occurred which would seem to indicate that the woodchuck of the woods retires to his den much later in the season than his cousin of the fields, who is seldom seen abroad much after the first of September. On the first of November I came across a hollow ash tree, prostrate above a little brook in a swamp not far from my home, and noticed that some creature or other had been carrying dead grass into it quite recently. I fixed a trap in the hollow and the next day found a woodchuck held captive there, a typical woodchuck of the forest, as lean and active as a squirrel, with soft white-tipped fur almost as thick as a coon's. When I released him, he refused to run, but showed fight pluckily enough for several minutes, and then unexpectedly bolted by me into his hollow log, down which I could hear him scrambling to his nest, which appeared to be situated at the end of the cavity where the tree forked into several branches, for on breaking off a small branch here I could see that the interior was filled with new dried grass and leaves. Undoubtedly he intended spending the winter there, and I imagine would find it quite as comfortable as the usual underground retreat, if not driven out by the rising waters in time of thaw. I recall once seeing what looked like a woodchuck's track in the snow about the last of November. The animal that made it had been wandering about the woods, prying into every stump and hollow log, perhaps in search of a bed; but that was years ago, and I am not even certain that it was a woodchuck's track at all.
This year I have again seen a woodchuck out in November, a tawny old fellow whose den is near the top of a little hillock beside a meadow, the same that I saw a fox trying to unearth last April.
As I crossed the meadow I could see him sitting in his doorway in the dim sunlight of Indian summer, perhaps saying goodby to his shadow and the sun and the clouds until spring returns; the turf beside his path was yet green and moist, and from deep among the grass-roots the dreamy notes of crickets sounded miles away, and seemed always on the point of ceasing forever.
A few days before I saw this same woodchuck carrying home wild apples from a tree several rods from his hole; it may be that last summer's drouth, which was unusually severe in these parts, made it impossible for him to get fat enough to risk turning in at the regular time for woodchucks to retire about the first of October.
In the days of the uncleared forest before the white-men came, woodchucks, it is safe to assume, had a much longer list of enemies than now. Bears, wolves, lynxes and panthers, undoubtedly all preyed on them as occasion afforded, and it is hardly likely that the Indian hunter felt himself demeaned by stooping to the chase of such humble quarry.
At present the only native animal that the woodchucks have much to fear from is the fox. From this determined hunter they are not always safe, even in the depths of their burrows. In the winter when the ground is unfrozen, foxes will even dig them out of their winter quarters and kill them in their sleep. They dig them out in warm weather as well, though I fail to see how they ever manage to catch up with so accomplished a burrower in an underground race.
But the little woodchucks I expect are in much greater danger, for while they are still no bigger than rats, they begin to spend sunny hours exploring the grass around the burrow, or sprawled out asleep on the hot earth piled in front of it.
At such times hen-hawks or cooper's hawks might easily pick them up, but I do not remember having seen evidence that they often do. For awhile the old woodchucks make a point of looking out for their safety, but in a most indifferent sort of way, quite unlike the zealous watchfulness displayed by most wild animals. The female has in fact on occasions been said to push her offspring out of the hole one at a time in order to purchase her own safety by distracting the attention of a dog that was trying to dig her out.
Varieties of the Woodchuck
1. Woodchuck. Arctomys monax (Linnaeus). Description and range as above.
2. Northern Woodchuck. A. monax canadensis (Erxleben). Darker than the above, black and brown predominating, hairs more variegated with white, cheeks gray.