There is no doubt that the lemming's characteristic rashness is as fertile a source of danger as is the activity of his pursuers. Often when escape is certain, a delay to show his courage proves fatal. If he is quite a distance from his burrow or a snow-bank, his chance of escape by direct flight is hopeless. When this is the case, he always dies with his face to the foe. Backing up against a stone or any inequality of the frozen ground he shows no sign of fear, boldly making little rushes towards the enemy, and as suddenly retreating to his coign of vantage as they fail to stop. All the while the air is vocal with a series of sharp little squeaks that are most surprising to the observer. The diminutive size of the animal and the small volume of sound are so disproportionate to the evident courage with which he utters his notes of defiance, as to make the lemming at bay a most amusing were it not a pathetic sight for an observer. One cannot fail to feel an admiration for his courage, not unmixed with pity for the helplessness of so tiny an animal.
It is probable that the arctic lemming shares with his Norwegian cousin periodical frenzies of migration, so that the large number in Grinnell Land in 1876 was followed by a great diminution in 1881-3 in the same region. Whether the migration was towards Greenland is unknown, but it is certain that in 1882 the lemming was found along the coast of Greenland to the most northerly point ever reached by man. At this extreme northern point two lemmings were caught, one being run down by the ravenous, half-starved sledge dogs, the most fortunate dog swallowing him whole to avoid having the lemming torn from his jaws.
The lemmings that were held in captivity gradually yielded to kind treatment, but they showed always an irritable, uncertain temper, and even in mildest moods tried their teeth gently and playfully, but with a certain air that promised aggressive action if Mr. Lemming's rights were not fully respected.
The naturalist in naming the common hare called it timidus (timid), which in popular opinion describes its most striking quality. If this species lacks the elements of courage, it would be injustice to bring this charge against his northern brother, for the polar hare is bold, tenacious, and enduring to an astonishing degree. He thrives in the most northern regions under apparently the most adverse conditions, for within five hundred miles of the North Pole, at Lady Franklin Bay, a hare, killed two weeks before the return of the sun, after a winter of unparalleled severity, was in such excellent condition that it weighed eleven pounds, against an average of nine pounds for his kind.
He keeps the field throughout the year, and, like the hare of the south, does not regularly burrow. For the greater part of the year he lives in a "form," or a depression in his pasture among the saxifrages, willows, or lichens; occasionally one seeks a sheltered crevice or overhanging rock.
Nature, indeed, provides him with a winter undergrowth of fur consisting of the finest, fleeciest hair imaginable, resembling delicate down; but even with this defence it seems astonishing that he can endure an almost continuous exposure to temperatures that hold quicksilver as solid as steel. In a manner the polar hare accommodates himself to the situation, and if he does not, like the lemming, gather materials for a shelter, he does at least learn to use snow as a protection against the worst of weather. Possibly he would burrow like the rabbit if the frozen earth was not like iron, for he does at times tunnel the snow, to which uncheery quarters he resorts from his adjacent pasturage. These snow excavations or burrows are infrequent, for while they add to the bodily comfort of the hare, they render him more liable to fall a victim to the fox or wolf, always in search of this arctic dainty.
One of these snow burrows is described by Colonel Feilden, the naturalist of the Nares expedition in 1875, in 82° 27' N. Hunting the hare, two weeks before the sun reappears at mid-day, February 24th, in a temperature 56° below zero, Feilden continues: "I started a hare from its burrow, a hole about four feet in length scratched horizontally in the snow. I have no doubt but what the same burrow was regularly used, as the snow was discolored by the feet of the animal and a quantity of hair was sticking on the sides." All around the hole he had been scratching up the snow and feeding on the saxifrage, nibbling off the delicate green buds which were shooting out from the brown withered plant of last year's growth.
Dr. Sutherland, some three hundred miles further to the south, says: "The hares burrow in the snow. One burrow which I measured was eight feet in length, in a southern exposure, but it was never more than five or six inches beneath the surface. From the appearance of the snow which must have been removed in the process of excavation, it was my impression that the burrow had been opened during the winter. The hares were so wary, standing on their hind legs and spinning away in this upright posture, with watchful eyes on all our movements, that all our efforts to shoot them were useless."
The skill, rapidity, and peculiar manner with which the hare travels when closely pursued are worthy of attention. The first case noted was by Sergeant Rice, one of my command, who shot and pursued a hare which escaped him, although wounded. The animal would travel for a hundred yards or more at a time on its hind legs alone, jumping a distance of six to eight feet at each jump, when he would land upon his hind feet, only to repeat the operation, never touching the ground with his fore feet. Occasionally, for a change, he resorted to the usual method of travel. Rice at first thought he was suffering from an optical delusion, but as the actions were repeated he carefully examined the tracks, which confirmed his eyesight, showing that only the hare's hind feet touched the ground. Later the same method of travel fell under my own observation, except that the hare did not follow it for any considerable distance; probably it is resorted to only in dire distress.
Other instances could be cited of the tenacity to life and desperation with which a wounded hare struggles, but the following experience of Lieutenant Kislingbury, of my party, was probably the most striking that fell within our experience.