The Babyhood of Wild Beasts/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII
baby porcupines
THERE is something pathetic about a Porcupine. He asks so little of the world in which he lives, taking the plain necessities without even a glance at the luxuries; and he is such a delightful back-woods old codger. I always feel a thrill of sympathy when I look into his dear old face for all the world like a little, old man's, who is half stupid, half sorrowful and altogether wistful.
He seems to have been born old. He walks so slowly, with bent head and little black eyes looking up timidly from under his overhanging grizzly brows.
I think he is the least quarrelsome of our wild animals. Porky is never aggressive. If a fight is started you can depend upon it that somebody started it besides our prickly friend; but if any one is looking for trouble he can get all he wants and then some from this old codger. Porky is a strong lad on the defensive.
When attacked, he rolls himself into a ball with every one of his needle-like quills standing upright, while his tender nose is hidden safely between his stout paws. In this state he resembles an over-ripe chestnut burr, and woe betide the assailant who is foolish enough to attack a thoroughly aroused porcupine.
Few dogs have sense enough to let him alone, and even the clever puma and lynx are foolhardy enough to insist on making a meal off our friend in times of stress. A lynx was found dead with a porcupine quill thrust through his eye, the point of which had entered his brain, causing instant death.
The porcupine cannot throw his quills, as many suppose. Each quill is minutely barbed and it adheres viciously to whatever comes in contact with it. Those tenacious quills thickly sown in the tender mouth of a creature prohibit eating and drinking and a horrible death awaits the unfortunate victim from hunger and thirst.
The porcupine is a denizen of the woods. He rarely leaves his woodland home for the fields unless there be some choice tid-bit in the way of tender lily pads in a nearby pond or a tasty morsel that will lure him from his leafy retreat.
He is unknown on our western prairies. His home is usually a hollow hemlock or spruce.
In this cosy little home the babies first see the light of day in the early spring. They range from one to three in number, and are very large, husky youngsters, covered all over with soft, furry, dark brown hair. Their eyes are open from the first minute of their earthly existence.
Our baby porcupine is actually larger than a new-born bear cub who is a diminutive little fellow. Mrs. Porcupine is very proud of her big baby. She is very careful of him and takes great care lest some of the ferocious forest neighbours see him.
After his quills are well grown she gives him more freedom for she knows he is well able to take care of himself. The baby grows rapidly. After a short time long hairs tipped with yellow push up through the thick fur and later the quills begin to make themselves known. His orange coloured teeth lengthen and we realise that he is fast becoming a very formidable little beastie. He is able now to waddle down to the pond as fast as his short, stumpy legs will carry him, and by clutching a half-submerged log, feast on the tender lily pads.
I stroked the back of a tame baby porcupine the other day, but I didn't feel any quills pushing through yet. This little fellow is three months old and very friendly. I gave him some green leaves and a red crab apple which he proceeded to stuff into his funny little mouth. He sat up neatly on his haunches and holding the apple in his little paws, gnawed it with his four yellow chisels as a baby might.
His track in the snow looks quite a bit like a baby's foot-prints, and his voice—(bless his little heart!)—well, I won't say it's very musical, but it's full of vitality. He squeals up and down the scale regardless of rhyme or rhythm in a frenzy of enjoyment that's all his very own. No one outside his own species could possibly understand it. Its very harshness expresses quills and claws and orange chisel teeth.
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| Courtesy of the American Museum of Natural History |
| Dear Prickly Porky seems to have been born old. He reminds me of a little old man who is half sad, half timid, and altogether wistfull. He cannot throw his qullls, as has been said of him, but, when attacked, rolls himself in a ball, every wonderful quill on end, so that he resembles an over-ripe chestnut burr. Note the Baby Polky in the lower right-hand corner. |
I recently read an authentic report that albino porcupines are both blind and deaf. This is not at all surprising as albinos are freaks of nature, and we could hardly expect them to be perfectly natural and normal.
The porcupine is probably the safest from starvation of any of our woodland friends. He can eat anything from green leaves and tender plants to the little twigs and bark of our evergreen trees. Summer or winter, his larder is full. The lynx, wolves, carabou and moose may suffer during the long frozen winter; but the little Porky has only to climb the nearest tree and get busy with the eternal bark supply.
His teeth in themselves are an institution, two chisels in the lower and two in the upper jaw. These are flanked on either side by the powerful molars. Like other rodents (gnawing animals), his teeth keep right on growing as long as he lives. Only his constant gnawing keeps the teeth at their proper length; else they would grow too long and cause his death, by forcing his jaws so far apart that he could not use them.
"The name, porcupine, is a corruption of the old French porc espin, meaning spring pig. The central family of porcupines is divided into two branches, Old World or terrestrial and New World or arboreal. The South American tree porcupines are better adapted for tree climbing than the Canadian species. They are smaller, have short, many coloured spines and a long tapering tail (prehensile)." (Ingersoll.)
The Canadian porcupine is a nocturnal prowler. He sleeps by day, travels, eats and plays by night and does not hibernate. He is found as far north as Alaska. The food of the Eastern Canadian Porcupine consists of the bark and leaves of the bass wood, sugar maple, slippery elm and ash, barks, seeds and berries. In the West the cottonwood seems to be a favourite with him. The African Porcupine is larger than the American animal.
The quills of the old world porcupine are stripped alternately black and white. The flesh of the Canadian Porcupine is eaten by Indians and trappers. The quills are used to ornament their clothing after first being dyed bright colours.
The average weight of a full-grown porcupine is about twenty pounds. Some of them attain a weight of thirty or thirty-five pounds. The Porcupine is twice as large as the woodchuck.
In Alaska and North-western Canada the Porcupine is not shot. He is the only wild animal that can be killed with a club and is left unmolested for the purpose of sustaining the starving man who is unlucky enough to have lost his gun or run out of ammunition.
Don't kill the Porcupine for pastime. He does mankind no harm, nor does he destroy property. He has his place in the Divine Scheme of Life and we have no business to destroy his earthly existence.