It is not an inhabitant of the Banda Oriental, east of the Uruguay River.
The following accounts of North American species will be interesting to the reader, since they give a good idea of the habits of nearly allied species. Audubon and Bachman, in their Quadrupeds of North America, say of the prairie dog, “This noisy spermophile, or marmot, is found in numbers, sometimes hundreds, of families together, living in burrows on the prairies; and their galleries are so extensive as to render riding among them quite unsafe in many places. Their habitations are generally called dog towns, or villages, by the Indians and trappers, and are described as being intersected by streets (pathways) for their accommodation, and a degree of neatness and cleanliness is preserved. These villages or communities are, however, sometimes infested with rattlesnakes and other reptiles which feed upon these animals. The burrowing owl (Surnia cunicularia) is also found among them. Occasionally these marmots stood quite erect, and watched our movements, and then leaped into the air, all the time keeping an eye on us. Now and then, one of them, after coming out of his hole, issued a long and somewhat whistling note, perhaps a call or invitation to his neighbors, as several came out in a few moments. They are, as we think, more in the habit of feeding by night than in the daytime.”
Lieutenant Abert, who observed the prairie dog in New Mexico, says it does not hibernate, “but is out all winter, as lively and as pert as on any summer day.” Another observer states that it “closes accurately the mouth of its furrow, and constructs at the bottom of it a neat globular cell of fine dry grass, having an aperture at the top sufficiently large to admit a finger, and so compactly put together that it might almost be rolled along the ground, uninjured.”
Perhaps different winter temperatures in different localities may govern the habit of hibernation.
The following sketch, from Kendall’s narrative of the Texan expedition to Santa Fé, is so interesting that I present it to the reader:—
“We sat down upon a bank, under the shade of a mesquit, and leisurely surveyed the scene before us. Our approach had driven every one to his home in our immediate vicinity, but at the distance of some hundred yards the small mound of earth in front of each burrow was occupied by a prairie dog, sitting erect on his hinder legs, and coolly looking about for the cause of the recent commotion. Every now and then, some citizen, more adventurous than his neighbor, would leave his lodgings, on a flying visit to a friend, apparently exchange a few words, and then scamper back as fast as his legs would carry him. By and by, as we kept perfectly still, some of our near neighbors were seen cautiously poking their heads from out their holes, looking craftily, and at the same time inquisitively, about them. Gradually a citizen would emerge from the entrance of his domicile, come out upon his observatory, peek his head cunningly, and then commence yelping, somewhat after the manner of a young puppy, a quick jerk of the tail accompanying each yelp. It is this short bark alone that has given them the name of dogs, as they bear no more resemblance to that animal, either in appearance, action, or manner of living, than they do to the hyena.
“Prairie dogs are a wild, frolicsome, madcap set of fellows when undisturbed, uneasy, and ever on the move, and appear to take especial delight in chattering away the time, and visiting from hole to hole to gossip and talk over each other’s affairs; at least, so their actions would indicate. When they find a good location for a village, and there is no water in the immediate vicinity, old hunters say they dig a well to supply the wants of the community. On several occasions I crept close to their villages without being observed, to watch their movements. Directly in the centre of one of them I noticed a very large dog, which, by his actions, and those of his neighbors, seemed the chief or big dog of the village. For at least an hour I watched this village; during this time the large dog received at least a dozen visits from his fellow-dogs, who would stop and chat with him a few minutes, and then run off to their holes. All this while he never left his seat at the entrance to his home, and I thought that I could perceive a gravity in his deportment not discernible in those by whom he was surrounded. Far is it from me to say that the visits he received were upon business, or had anything to do with the local government of the village, but it certainly appeared so.”
The bizcacha does not live alone, for in each burrow I found a pair of small owls, of the species known by the name of the “Burrowing Owl of South America” (Athene cunicularia, Molina). As these birds are somewhat peculiar in their habits, and some few errors have crept into the writings of various authors regarding them, I will, for the information of those interested, present the following sketch of their habits, the result of observations which I made during my long journey.
I first met with this owl on the banks of the River San Juan, in the Banda Oriental, one hundred and twenty miles west of Montevideo, where a few pairs were observed devouring mice and insects during the daytime. From the river, travelling westward thirty miles, I did not meet a single individual, but after crossing the Las Vacas, and coming upon a sandy waste covered with scattered trees and low bushes, I again met with several.
Upon the pampas of the Argentine Republic they are found in great numbers, from a few miles west of Rosario, on the Paraná, latitude 32° 56′ south, to the vicinity of San Luis, where the pampas end, and a travesia or saline desert commences.