Harper's Round Table, March 3, 1896, Vol. XVII., No. 853

by Various

At first sight it would seem that no animal could live a single winter under the physical conditions just enumerated, the disadvantages of which are, if anything, understated. In truth, not only do these animals flourish, but it may be even said that the very severity of the climate and the difficulties of existence are the primal causes which populated these lands with races of selected mammals of unusual endurance, strength, and courage. Here stern nature extends no favor to the weak, slothful, or improvident, and only the best, the strongest, and the most cunning survive in person or by descendants.

Of the smaller mammals the lemming and hare entered the very high regions to escape their inveterate enemies, the ermine and the fox, who in turn followed these—their main food supply. Wandering here and there for pasturage, the musk-ox found the more northerly grounds less infested with wolves, and not at all frequented by man, so that here, in a measure unmolested, are now found the only known extensive herds of musk cattle. The predatory wolf naturally followed the musk-ox, the fox, and other smaller animals on which he subsists.

Let us now turn to the means and methods by which these animals succeed in maintaining life, which, it has been made evident, can only be done by the highest order of intelligence, courage, and endurance.

The smallest of these arctic animals is the lemming, which looks to one not a naturalist like a thick, short-tailed mouse, some four inches long, excluding his scant inch of tail. The lemming forms the principal food of the ermine and fox, while in summer it is likewise pursued by the robber gulls and the arctic owl. His color is not unlike that of the mouse in the summer, but with advancing winter the tips of the individual gray hairs gradually blanch and become pure white. Whenever the wind blows, or the lemming's fur is rubbed, it presents in winter a pepper-and-salt appearance, for the lower portion of the hairs always retain the summer coloring. The little fellow feeds entirely on arctic vegetation, but his principal and probably favorite food is the buds of the purple (oppositifolia) saxifrage.

This plant is possibly the hardiest of all arctic vegetation, and early in February, after weeks of cold which kept the mercury solid, specimens covered scarcely by an inch of snow were found to be sending forth their tender green shoots. But how does the lemming reach the snow-covered plant? Farther to the south, in the Parry archipelago, Dr. Sutherland observed that the snow near the lemming's burrows in the shingle was marked by his tracks, and here and there he had been scratching to reach the vegetation beneath. In one place the snow surface was broken over a tuft of purple saxifrage, which was covered by half an inch of snow. "What instinct," he adds, "could have led the creature to single out the exact spot on which to bestow its toil?"

Farther north the problem changes with increasing darkness, and the field-mouse meets it by building his house under the snow, in the centre of a flourishing patch of saxifrage or dryas. The tiny animal shows himself to be a nest-builder equal to some of our Southern birds. Finding a valley favored with vegetation, whereon the drifting snow from the adjacent hills has spread a protecting layer, the lemming proceeds to sink a shaft to the ground. He drives tunnels hither and thither until he has opened up a good pasture-ground, and then, gathering bits of grass from the bare ground elsewhere, constructs in the most suitable place a comfortable nest, which serves as his headquarters for the winter and as a cozy birthplace for the babes. He knows well that he is not safe from the ravenous ermine or the cunning fox, so be proceeds to tunnel from his nest in an opposite direction to the entrance of the burrow—a passage which ends in the open air at a considerable distance from the original place of entrance. The dry arctic snow above the nest packs with such closeness that any footfall thereon extends its vibrations a long distance, so that unless the little lemming is asleep, his acute senses give him warning of the stealthy coming of the ermine or fox in his pursuit.

THE LEMMING INSTANTLY BACKED UP AGAINST A ROCK.

In the open the lemming can easily escape if the friendly snow is at hand, for his pure white fur makes it difficult for the eye to follow the tiny animal on the surface of the new snow, while the rapidity with which he burrows in it astonishes an observer, and usually discomforts a pursuer. Now and then the mouse is caught napping, and doubtless he meets often as sudden and untimely a fate as did one under my notice. Hurrying along the ice-foot with one of the largest of our Eskimo dogs, we started a lemming under our very feet. The animal instantly backed up against a rock and uttered shrill cries of rage and defiance at the dog, who jumped for the lemming, and I for the dog. As my hands were closing around the dog's neck, he seized the unfortunate rodent, and actually gulped him down without stopping to bite. As far as I could judge the lemming must have gone into the dog's stomach in a living condition—a process easy for the dog, who was daily accustomed to bolt pieces of meat much larger than the animal he had swallowed.