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Updated: June 6, 2025
He thinks himself one of the strongest a fine fellow! But I tell you he is a coward. If he is clever? Yes. But he is a poltroon. He knows well that I can flatten him out like a crepe in the frying-pan. But he is afraid. He has not as much courage as the musk-rat. You stamp on the bank. He dives. He swims away. Bah!"
But it would be quite as seemly, in one like you, to follow a pursuit better becoming your years and courage." "I! I never took even a slinking mink or a paddling musk-rat in a cage; though I admit having peppered a few of the dark-skin'd devils, when I had much better have kept my powder in the horn and the lead in its pouch. Not I, old man; nothing that crawls the earth is for my sport."
Brothers, I am that Nanticoke, and the beautiful woman that was once a Musk-rat is she that sits at my side, and the child that is playing at my feet is the child of our love. And this is all I have to say. The last of the Six Nanticokes commenced his story thus: I left my brothers, and travelled towards the regions of cold and snow the land of perpetual ice and frost.
It came timidly, the beautiful creature, and sat down at a short distance from them. The chief of the Musk-rats upon this spoke to the Nanticoke, and asked him what he thought of his little daughter. The Nanticoke who, like all other good and brave men, always spoke the truth, answered that "she was indeed a most beautiful Musk-rat what a pity that she was still a Musk-rat!"
"It is the house of LE BON DIEU. Can we build it in hate?" "POLISSON! You make an excuse. Then come to Girard's, and fight there." Again Prosper held in for a moment, and spoke three words: "No! Not now." "Not now? But when, you heart of a hare? Will you sneak out of it until you turn gray and die? When will you fight, little musk-rat?" "When I have forgotten. When I am no more your friend."
Every fact which occurs in the bed, on the banks, or in the air over it; the fishes, and their spawning and nests, their manners, their food; the shad-flies which fill the air on a certain evening once a year, and which are snapped at by the fishes so ravenously that many of these die of repletion; the conical heaps of small stones on the river-shallows, one of which heaps will sometimes overfill a cart, these heaps the huge nests of small fishes; the birds which frequent the stream, heron, duck, sheldrake, loon, osprey; the snake, musk-rat, otter, woodchuck, and fox, on the banks; the turtle, frog, hyla, and cricket, which make the banks vocal, were all known to him, and, as it were, townsmen and fellow-creatures; so that he felt an absurdity or violence in any narrative of one of these by itself apart, and still more of its dimensions on an inch-rule, or in the exhibition of its skeleton, or the specimen of a squirrel or a bird in brandy.
He hoped it would be a "buster." He was on the road to the spring, when these thoughts passed through his mind. There had been a white frost, and the air was keen. He thrust his hands into his pockets, and ran along, whistling cheerfully. His spirits were light, and his hopes high. He half expected to find a musk-rat in his trap.
A musk-rat leaped from the bank ahead, and dived to reach his hole in the bank. Under cover of the noisy splash which the little creature made, one whisper was hissed by Herb's tongue into the ears of his comrades. It was: "Gee whittaker! he's a big one! Listen to them shovels against the trees!"
The musk-rat we caught in box traps like a mouse trap. The wild-cat we ran down like the 'loup cervier' " "What kind of an animal is that?" asked Mr. Maxwell. "It is a lynx, belonging to the cat species. They used to prowl about the country killing hens, geese, and sometimes sheep. They'd fix their tushes in the sheep's neck and suck the blood. "They did not think much of the sheep's flesh.
In marshy ponds, existing here and there, the musk-rat builds his house, like that of his larger cousin, the beaver. Upon the water sedge he finds subsistence; but his natural enemy, the wolverene, skulks in the same neighbourhood. The "Polar hare" lives upon the leaves and twigs of the dwarf birch-tree; and this, transformed into its own white flesh, becomes the food of the Arctic fox.
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