DURING the early years of my hermit-life, I had caged many small animals, such as deer-mice, raccoons, woodchucks, chipmunks, flying-squirrels, stoats, mink, and red and gray squirrels.
RACCOON'S HEAD.
My first captive was an artful old coon. I caught him in a small steel trap, the jaws of which had been wound with cloth as a protection to the foot. The den was under a boulder near the cabin. I set the trap at the mouth of the den and covered it with leaves. The next morning the trap, with clog attached, was missing. There was a trail in the dead leaves easily followed. While following the zigzag trail I was in plain sight of the coon, but he remained quiet until he found that he was discovered, then made frantic efforts to escape. The clog had anchored him securely to some witch-hazel shrubs. He was full of fight, and I had to look out for his teeth and claws. I had brought along a stout piece of duck, which I wrapped around the raccoon, trap and all; thus secure from his wicked teeth and claws, I toted him to the cabin.
It took me two hours to put a strap on his neck. The struggle was a desperate one. Without the duck it would have been a victory for the raccoon. When I had the strap securely fastened and a dog-chain attached, I removed the trap from his foot, then staked him out near the cabin. For two weeks he tried night and day to free himself from collar and chain, then suddenly appeared to be contented.
Instinct plays no part in coon lore. A coon can reason as well as the average human being. My captive proved to be as artful and wicked as Beelzebub himself.
Whenever my back was turned he would be up to all sorts of mischief. When caught red-handed he could put on a look of innocence too comical for anything. By the end of the first month he had got all of my ways of life down fine. If I went into the woods with my gun, on my return he would tear around in his cage anxious for the squirrel he had not seen, but was sure to get. When I went away without the gun, he paid no attention on my return. I do not think he was guided by scent, for sometimes the wind would not be right. Without doubt he connected the gun and squirrel in his mind, and perhaps knew more about a gun than I thought.
He did not take kindly to cage-life, although his cage was under a small pine-tree, so when I was about the cabin I chained him to the tree and let him run outside. I put him into the cage every day before going to the city for my mail. He resented this, and would run up the pine-tree when he saw me lock the cabin-door. One day I pulled him down and whipped him while he lay prone on the ground, with his eyes covered. I took away his food and water. He must have been downright hungry before I fed him. He never forgot the lesson. After that, when he saw me lock up he would sneak into his cage, fearful, I suppose, that if found outside he would be whipped and starved. He preferred food in the order herein named: insects, eggs, birds or poultry, frogs, nuts, red squirrel, rabbit, gray squirrel, and fish. This, without doubt, was the bill of fare of his wild state. He would not touch green corn or milk until I had crushed the former into his mouth, and had dipped his nose into the latter. Afterward he would leave everything for milk.
The first rabbit I fed to him was about two-thirds grown. It was one which a mink had chased into my dooryard and killed. It was evident from the first that the coon was no stranger to this kind of food. He opened the rabbit's mouth with his fore paws and ate out the tongue, after which he skinned the head, turning the skin back over the neck. He crushed the bones of the head and lapped out the brains. On the third day he had finished the rabbit, and the skin was turned inside out, even to the ends of the toes. Squirrels were skinned in the same manner.
This coon decided for me a disputed question. I refer to the whimper or cry of the coon. Night after night, in the nutting season, he would call to his comrades, and they would answer from the surrounding woods.
When the sweet acorns were ripe, Satan was unusually active early in the evening. At this early hour the coons were abroad in search for food, and Satan scented them, and did his best to attract their attention. One coon passed near the cabin every night and answered Satan's cries, so I imagined that it was his mate.
Many writers claim that the tremulous cry attributed to the coon is made by the little screech-owl (Scops asio). It is true, doubtless, that people that do not know both cries may make such a mistake.
The little owls appear to resent my intrusion on their vested rights, so from early spring to late fall they haunt my sleeping-quarters, and divide their time between snapping their beaks and uttering their monotonous notes. As I sleep in the open air nine months out of the twelve, I have a good chance to study both cries, and could not mistake one for the other.
The coon is a ventriloquist. His cry seems to come down from the sky. A friend came in from the city one night to hear the coon cry. It was a moonlight night, and the coon was staked out in the dooryard. My friend was not looking when the first cry was uttered, but claimed that the sound came from the trees overhead. Afterward he saw the coon in the act, and could not make a mistake.
When Satan uttered the cry, he was always sitting on his haunches. He would throw his head up until his nose pointed skyward, then blow the sound out between his half-closed lips.
My friend had brought in a blanket and hammock, and was prepared to spend the night in the open air. He slung his hammock near mine, and we turned in about ten o'clock. He was nervous and restless, and said he could not sleep with the little owls about him. Every fifteen or twenty minutes he would call to me to ask about some noise of the night, common enough, but which appeared strange and startling to him in the strained condition of his nerves. Soon after midnight a small animal, doubtless a stoat looking for an owl supper, dropped on to my friend's blanket. There was a smothered cry, full of fear, and a flying figure that did not stop until my hammock was reached. Nothing that I could say would induce the frightened man to go back to that hammock. He suggested at last that he would sleep in the cabin. I assented, and we soon had a bed arranged in a bunk. The cabin was overrun with white-footed mice, and I looked for more trouble.
"I BEGUN BY TYING ON A NUT."
Twenty minutes later I heard several war-whoops, and I saw my friend tumble out of the cabin into the dooryard. "Are you awake?" cried he. "Certainly," I answered, "you don't think there is any one asleep in this county after the racket you have made, do you?" "Oh, let up with your fooling," said he, "this is a serious thing. I sleep with my mouth open; suppose one of those mice had run down my throat and choked me to death? I am going home." And home he did go. I accompanied him through the woods to Western Avenue, and returned in time to get three hours' sleep. My friend was like hundreds of other nervous people that I had known in a lifetime, who were too sensitive to enjoy a night in the open air. To be in full accord with nature one should get accustomed to the presence of a snake now and then, in the open-air bed.
Satan was an apt scholar. I taught him to pull in his chain, hand over hand, sailor-fashion. The chain was twelve feet in length. I begun by tying on a nut about two feet from the coon. He pulled in the chain with his fore feet, which he used as hands. I would say to him, "Pull in the chain. Pull in the chain," and inside of a week he would obey the order without the use of food. I think he enjoyed the sport.
The boys that visited my cabin thought it great fun to play with Satan. They would pull the chain out and watch the coon pull it in. When Satan got tired he would coil the chain and lay on it, and the play was ended for the time being. After he had rested awhile he would go on with the play. When he was resting, if a boy offered to reach the chain he would lay back his ears, growl, and show his teeth. When he was ready to play he would sit up on his hind feet, prick his ears forward and look clever; then the boys could reach under him and pull out the chain without danger.
One day, while the coon was chained to a stake in the dooryard, he killed a pet bird in a manner so cruel and crafty, that it caused me to name him Satan then and there. I had placed a piece of matting by the stake to which the coon was chained. He understood that the matting was for his use, and he would cry to be fed while chained out. He used the matting as a dining-table and bed combined. The pet bird that was killed was a male catbird. Satan had left a piece of cookie on the matting, and the catbird thought to appropriate it. I was writing, not thirty feet away, and looked up just in time to see the flash of Satan's paw. I shouted, and rushed to the rescue. When I reached the coon the bird had disappeared. Satan looked so innocent and surprised that I was led to believe that the bird had escaped. I returned to my writing, and the coon settled down for a nap. An hour later a visitor from the city called to get the loan of a book on birds. I went to the cabin for the book, and when I returned Satan was patting down the edge of the mat. He saw me, and put on his innocent look. He coiled up as if he were about to try to sleep in a new spot. My suspicion was aroused. I pulled away the coon and under the mat found the dead bird. He had killed the bird and placed it under him so swiftly that I did not detect the trick when I went to the rescue. For a full hour he simulated sleep while he had the dead bird under him all the time. When I went to the cabin he hid the dead body under the mat. I gave him a severe whipping and placed the dead bird on his mat. The next day I buried the body, so Satan did not profit by his crafty deed. He remembered the whipping, and ever after did not molest the birds. I once saw a young towhee-bunting sit on his hind foot and eat from a cookie that the coon had tried to hide. How it would have fared with the bird, if I had been absent, is a question.
I don't think Satan had any respect for the Sabbath, but he knew the day, nevertheless. On week-days, I returned from city about nine o'clock A. M. Soon after, I would stake Satan in the dooryard, and he would seem much pleased with the change. I got up every morning at daybreak. My first duty was to feed the birds and Satan, then get my breakfast. At first I did not let Satan out of his cage on Sundays, on account of the dogs that my visitors brought along. Every Sunday morning I would feed Satan as soon as I was out of my hammock, as I did on week-day mornings, but he would not eat or drink, and constantly tried to open the door of the cage. He certainly knew, thus early in the morning, that it was Sunday, and he would have to remain hived up in his cage all day. It seemed to me, that if Satan was intelligent enough to keep run of the days of the week, he ought to know about the dogs, and was willing to fight them rather than be cooped up all day. I knew all about the fighting ability of the raccoon. It had been my good fortune to observe the evolution of a young coon, from a helpless, sprawling bunch of fat and fur, to an old coon, with a bristling battery of claws and teeth operated by chain-lightning. After due consideration I concluded to let Satan take chances with the dogs. The next Sunday I staked him in the dooryard and awaited developments.
A big Newfoundland dog was the first to appear. The moment he saw the coon he made a fierce rush, but Satan sprang lightly into the air and landed on the dog's back. Swiftly and savagely he delivered two blows on the dog's eyes. The big brute tore himself away from the coon and frantically rubbed his eyes with his fore paws. When he could see a little, he "dusted" for home, a sadder but wiser dog.
The next dog was a small one, and Satan gave him a slap under the ear that landed him outside of the ring, or beyond the length of the coon's chain. This dog did not go home, but went to his master for sympathy. He could not be induced afterward to look at the coon.
Dog number three proved to be a yelping cur. He did not attack the coon, but danced around him, yelping all the time. He distracted the visitors with his incessant yelping. His master could not call him off. Satan set a trap for the cur, and caught him, too. He went to the stake, pulled in the chain, and then pretended to sleep. The dog was deceived, and got bolder and bolder until he was near enough for Satan to reach him. The coon made a swift rush and caught the yelping cur, and handled him so roughly that I was obliged to rescue him. It is needless to say that the cur was cured of yelping.
Satan whipped two other dogs before night, then for several weeks had no trouble worth mentioning. Now and then, through the summer, a strange dog would attack Satan and get whipped.
There is a class of writers that claim that the lower animals cannot reason. That such animals are controlled by instinct. I have ever found the lower animals as intelligent in relation to the needs of their lives as we are to ours. Satan proved to me and to others that he could reason, also that he could take advantage of new circumstances. Visitors often gave Satan a dirty nut, which he would clean by rubbing it between his paws. This trick was played on the coon constantly. Satan invented a new way to clean a nut. He would take it to the mat and roll it under his fore paw. How did he find out that he could clean a nut on the mat? There was no instinct, as I afterward proved. When visitors were feeding nuts to him I dusted his mat with ashes. Satan would take a nut and start for the mat, but his keen sight would detect the ashes, and he would stop, sit up, and clean the nut in the old way.
In November I trapped another coon, a young male. Doubtless he was the son of Satan, for he was from the same den. I knew, too, that he was born after Satan was captured, so they could have no knowledge of each other. I thought I would put the young coon in Satan's cage and see if the old fellow would recognize his own flesh and blood. If he did, I would have to admit that it was a case of instinct. When I put them together a desperate fight took place. The young coon was soon whipped and tried to hide. Satan followed him up, but suddenly began to sniff. He dropped his nose on to the young coon's ears, sniffing all the time. Instantly his savage look changed for one of pleasure. His ears, that just now were flat on his head, pricked up, and the lips, which were drawn back, showing the cruel teeth, fell into place. He put his arms around the young coon's neck and dragged him into the nest. Then he licked his ears and head, purring all the time like a big cat. Satan had recognized his son. I had noticed that the sense employed was of smell, and not of sight. I readily understood the meaning. The young coon carried the scent of his mother, and Satan had recognized it, and with subtle reasoning had concluded that he had found his own offspring. Afterward I trapped five coons. One was an adult. I put the four young coons, one at a time, into Satan's cage. Two of these were from the old den, and Satan recognized them at once after sniffing them. The other two were from a distant den, and as soon as Satan put his nose on their ears he fell to mauling them, and I was obliged to take them out to save their lives.
I could handle Satan whenever or however I pleased, and he would not lose his temper. It would be dangerous for a stranger to put a hand on him. One could almost step on him and he would not take offence, but he drew the line at touch. During the nine months that he was in my possession he attacked but one person. I met the gentleman in question at Barnum's Show, on Stage Fort. After the people had entered the main tent I stopped some time in the animal tent. I noticed a dudish-looking fellow acting in a peculiar manner before a cage containing two lions. I was interested, and strolled over to the cage. The fellow was a dude beyond a doubt. He wore a cowboy hat, a checkered coat, a crimson vest, and lavender colored trousers. He was trying to look the lions out of countenance. The big African lion, the male, seemed to feel uneasy under the fixed gaze of the dude, and at last crowded behind his mate. "See him cower and hide," cried the fellow, addressing me. "The human eye, intelligently used, can subdue the most ferocious brute living. I could enter that cage and handle those lions as I would kittens." I did not dispute his assertion, and he asked if the woods about Gloucester harbored wild animals. I told him about my raccoon. He suggested that it would please him to tame the coon for me, and offered to accompany me home.
"WITH A SAVAGE SNARL HE SPRANG ON TO THE DUDE."
When the show was over I missed the lion-tamer, but the next day he came down the hill to the cabin, resplendent in his checkered coat, crimson vest, and lavender trousers. As soon as he had said good morning he threw off his hat and coat and started the circus. He fixed his gaze on the coon and slowly approached him, stamping his feet while he cried, in a commanding tone, "Down, sir, down, sir!" Satan looked at the dude, then looked toward me. This was something new, and he wanted my opinion. When he found that I remained quiet, he concluded to act for himself. With a savage snarl he sprang on to the dude and fastened his claws in the lavender trousers. The dude, half-frightened to death, jumped backward beyond the length of Satan's chain. Satan held on, and the trousers were stripped from the hips to the knees. Fortunately, the coon's claws did not reach the flesh.
The dude put on a pair of my trousers, and with needle and silk I essayed to mend the lavender wreck. My work was rather clumsy. I should starve to death if I depended on the needle. I toiled and wrestled for two hours with that piece of work. It was a warm day, and I was nearly drowned in my own perspiration.
The dude put on the mended trousers and left me without saying so much as "thank you." Thus was Hood's "Song of the Shirt" verified.
On the approach of cold weather I made arrangements to winter Satan in the cabin. I placed a box inside, and the cage outside, and connected the two by a passage made of boards. The passage was eight inches square, and near the end that entered the cage I had hung a swinging door to keep the cold air from the nest inside. I expected Satan would have to be taught the use of the swinging door. After everything was arranged I put Satan into the cage, and at once he saw the change that had been made. He investigated the passage with his handy paws, and when he found he could move the swinging door he passed through into the box inside. After he had satisfied himself that the nest was all right, he came out.
To tell the truth, I was somewhat surprised by the ingenuity displayed. Satan's comprehension was equal to that of a human being. I removed the chain and collar, and the coon and I settled down for the winter. I had arranged a cover to Satan's nest-box, and evenings I would give him the freedom of the cabin. Inside of a week he knew the contents of the cabin better than I did. The light puzzled him. Once, and once only, he touched the lamp-chimney. He would look on gravely while I would blow out the lamp and relight it again.
One night I forgot to fasten the cover in his nest-box. That night something touched me on the face and awoke me. I remained quiet, and soon I felt a cold, soft touch on my cheek. A swift clutch and I had Satan by one paw. I held him until I had lighted the lamp. He looked innocent and grieved, and tried to show me that he did not mean any wrong. He wanted to know if I were asleep or dead. When I released him he went to his box and raised the cover so quickly and neatly that it seemed a slight-of-hand performance.
One morning I neglected to secure the door to Satan's cage. When I returned that night the door was open and the coon was missing. The next day I took some food to the den under the boulder, but Satan did not care for food. He was fat enough to go into hibernation, and had probably entered upon the sleep that would last till spring. The next spring Satan would come to the mouth of the den and take food from my hand, but he was so crafty that I could not get hold of his neck. I thought to arrange a box-trap in which to catch him, when I could get time. One day I missed him, and when I heard that a farmer had caught a coon in his poultry-house, and had killed him, I knew that Satan had sacrificed his life to his appetite for poultry. The reckless act did not indicate a lack of reason.
Human beings sacrifice their lives to appetite, so which of us will throw the first stone at Satan?
