Here, too, the city has an alien population. There are burrowing owls, and probably foxes too, but the most remarkable animal that takes up its abode in the burrows of the prairie-dog, or marmot, is the dreaded and terrible rattlesnake. As in the case of the fox with the bizcacha, the possession, here taken, is forcible, or, at least, we may assume that the poor little marmot would resist it if it could. It would appear, however, that the legitimate owners are not expelled by the rattlesnake, but with their family continue to live in the same burrow—as long, that is to say, as the family lasts, for of the relations subsisting between it and the reptile there is now no doubt. “It was generally thought,” says the Rev. J. G. Wood, “on the discovery of owls and rattlesnakes within the burrows of the prairie-dogs, that these incongruous beings associated together in perfect harmony, forming, in fact, a ‘Happy Family’ below the surface of the ground. The ruthless scalpel of the naturalist, however, effectually dissipated all such romantic notions, and proved that the snake was by no means a welcome guest but an intruder on the premises, self-billeted on the inmates, like soldiers on obnoxious householders, procuring lodging without permission, and eating the inhabitants by way of board. The reason for the presence of the owls is not so evident, though it is not impossible that they may also snap up an occasional prairie-dog in its earliest infancy, while it is still very young, small, and tender.” At this period, however, the young would, no doubt, be vigilantly guarded by the mother, and as the owl is quite a little bird, it would not be likely to attack them under these circumstances. Moreover, the existence of countless burrows, all ready-made, is quite sufficient to explain the owl’s presence in any of them, since it is not driven out by the owner. In an illustration of the work from which the foregoing passage is quoted, the owl is further represented as itself having young ones, which it is defending from the rattlesnake. Whether it really breeds in the burrows I do not know, but with its habits I can see no reason why it should not. For the rattlesnake, too, the burrows must make splendid places of retirement, so that even if it were a question of lodging only, and not board, I can see nothing strange in its going into them. I believe myself, indeed, that this is the principal good sought, and the other only incidental to it. Wood writes as if it was quite an unheard of thing for two or more animals of different species to live together, without hurting one another; but this—as no one knew better than himself—is not the case, as we may see with the shark and pilot-fish, or in an ants’ nest, or in the bizcacheras that we have just been speaking about—for what harm do the swallows or mineras do to each other or the bizcacheras? There was really nothing so very romantic—if by that is meant silly—in the idea of the “Happy Family.” Ordinary people