in the State, or in the United States for that matter, but its numbers are becoming rapidly lessened; first on account of the sharp advance in the price of fur in the last few years, then by early fall catching and late spring hunting, and by the draining of the swamps and ponds.

So varied are the muskrat's habits and so adaptable is he to the changed conditions, that he has been able to survive and in places even to multiply. Where once were swamps and ponds, wherein he held domain, are new acres of rich farm lands producing big yields of corn, potatoes and onions.

In so many ways does the muskrat resemble the beaver that as you contemplate him your imagination carries you back to the time when these two occupied the swamps and ponds and lakes together, where now only the muskrat remains. And in a few years he will be of the past, in his wild state. No doubt there will be muskrat farms in the near future.

Like the beaver the muskrat loves the water. Being an amphibian, nothing delights him more than to swim quietly around in the mucky waters of some quiet pond at twilight, in search of the roots of rushes, sedges, swamp grass, orris or other aquatic plants. Night is his time of frolic and of house building for the winter, digging runs, and constructing dams in ditches and about his home. Sometimes two litters of young are reared in a summer. He likes to travel around in the cornfields, selecting ears that suit his fancy and carrying them to his den, where, after feasting, he deposits the cobs at the entrance, as if in token that corn is king of cereals. But corn in the roasting ear stage is his delight, and he will gorge himself with it to the utmost. He will cut down many stalks just to be doing something, and ofttimes to get at the ears. Many of the stalks will he drag to his den and if it be along an open ditch they will be piled below to form a dam to make the water deeper. In this respect he much resembles the beaver and the musquashes. Years of experience along many ditches and streams have taught him wisdom, and he always manages to profit in some way by the persecutions of the trapper and hunter.

He is a wise little furbearer and needs all the protection this great State of Indiana can give him, or in less than ten years,

with the draining of the swamps and intensive trapping in early fall and late spring he will go as did the passenger pigeon.

Nothing pleases his ratship's fancy better than a clayey bank where he can take an occasional slide into the water, and like the otter, weasel and mink, and men and women, he delights in exciting sports, and a slide from some steep bank into the water is great fun for him.

No more valuable furbearer is found than this musky fellow and when people come to know the fine flavor of his flesh there will be large muskrat farms. Certain it is he will bring good returns. for all the trouble taken in caring for him.

An uncle of mine had a large patch of cabbage near an open ditch, with good prospects of a fine crop. The muskrats loved the cabbage. How to stop them from eating it was a problem he could not solve. At last he tried sprinkling the cabbage with Paris green. The rats left it alone thereafter and he thought his crop was a success. A heavy rain came and washed the poison away. It was about a week thereafter before he went to look at his cabbage. The muskrats had realized their opportunity and had about cleaned up the patch, leaving only bare stalks. Had their instincts warned them against eating it while the Paris green was on it? Certainly they were not poisoned, as no dead body was found.

Muskrats are very sociable, and a group of young ones at play always puts me in mind of children, they seem so happy.

Several winters ago the water covered a willow swamp a few feet deeper than usual, and the ice froze around the willows. When spring came the willows were bare of bark as high as the ice had been. The muskrats had found good food prepared for them.

In the laying out of their homes in a pond they seem to use an engineer's foresight. They build so that they can watch the approach of enemies to best advantage. Their worst enemy is the mink. Always there are several entrances to the house, all below the surface of the water. The houses are covered with rushes, cattails, pieces of bark, sticks and brush, the whole seeming to be cemented together with a peculiar mortar made by chewing clay or muck and leaves together and padding and working it

down with the forepaws. A house, when completed, will shed water. When they are built high it is the sign of an open winter with much rain, old trappers tell us.

In the spring you will find the muskrat cleaning house, and chinking up the leaky roof with tufts of wild rushes and sticks. The muskrat has a keen sense of smell, and acts quickly. He dives like a flash when pursued by a mink. There are secret passages to his house, but the mink is cunning enough to sit outside. and wait patiently for someone to receive a caller. If no one comes to the door to ask him in, he goes in unbidden to see who is at home. If nobody is at home and he is not in a hurry on account of hunger he curls himself up on one of the cattail lounges and takes a nap, knowing that some one will return before long.

The glands of the muskrat secrete an essence which has a very powerful odor and is used in many of the high priced perfumes. From this musk the animal takes the name musk bear, musquash, ondatra or muskrat. His acute hearing has been made so by the many enemies he has had to encounter through centuries of natural selection.

His way of swimming under the ice is peculiar. He will place his nose against the ice, when a bubble will form and grow quite large. There will seem to be a small amount of air between the water and the ice. When rested, and desiring to travel on, he will inhale the air and the bubble will disappear. I have seen them do this many times. As they swim beneath the ice, their tails acting as rudders, their large, partly webbed hind feet serving as great paddles, they are beautiful. The pelage of their dark brown coats against the yellowish water forms a pleasing contrast.

THE OPOSSUM,

Down from the age in which lived the mammoth and mastodon, the great lizards, snakes, fish, insects, birds and many other monsters, there comes but one mammal that has held its own for many thousands of years, without very great change; the opossum seems to be of very nearly the same habits as in glacial times.

He delights in washing his food, and, like the coon, he enjoys puddling around the edges of ditches for crayfish and frogs.