The Minds and Manners of Wild Animals: A Book of Personal Observations

The Florida crocodile is the shrewdest species of all those I know personally. It has the strange habit of digging out deep and spacious burrows for concealment, in the perpendicular sandy banks of southern Florida rivers where the deep water comes right up to the shore. Starting well under low-water mark, the crock digs in the yielding sand, straight into the bank, a roomy subterranean chamber. In this snug retreat he once was safe from all his enemies,--until the fatal day when his secret was discovered, and revealed to a grasping world. Since that time, the Alligator Joes of Palm Beach and Miami have made a business of personally conducting parties of northern visitors, at $50 per catch, to witness the adventure of catching a nine-foot crocodile alive. The dens are located by probing the sand with long iron rods. A rope noose is set over the den's entrance, and when all is ready, a confederate probes the crocodile out of its den and into the fatal noose. Today the Florida crocodile is so nearly extinct that it required two years of diligent inquiry to produce one live specimen subject to purchase. Common Sense in the Common Toad. Last spring, in planting a lot of trees on our lawn, a round tree-hole that stood for several days unoccupied finally accumulated about a dozen toads. Its two feet of straight depth was unscalable, and when finally discovered the toads were tired of their imprisonment. Partly as a test of their common-sense, Mr. George T. Fielding placed a six-inch board in the hole, at an angle of about thirty degrees, but fairly leading out of the trap.