Part 6

In summer when the water is low in the streams, he travels across country from pool to pool by night, seeking some estuary or the open coast. Although so obviously adapted for an aquatic life, the Otter can travel with speed on land, and it has been estimated that in one night it will cover about fifteen miles. On arrival at the coast it will seek some bat-haunted cave that has been favoured by its kind for generations, and will work the shallow waters for flat fish, bass, crabs, and mussels. From here also it will make excursions over a considerable area of neighbouring country by means of the creeks and marshes. In autumn it will return to its favourite stream and feed royally on migrating eels that are on their way to the sea. It does not hibernate. In winter when fishing may be poor, it may be constrained to dig out the mole and the vole from their underground retreats to provide a meal, and is even glad of hibernating insects, either in the larval or pupal condition. It also shows a fondness for the freshwater mussel (_Anodonta cygnea_).

In the rutting season there is a good deal of desperate fighting between jealous males; but this business disposed of a nursery nest or "hover" is constructed of rushes and grass, and lined with the soft, purple flower panicles of the great reed. Here, in the winter, the bitch Otter brings forth her two or three blind young. They are already covered with a fine downy fur. Both parents hunt to provide them with food, and in due course they are taken out one night to be taught the way of life in the waters. The partnership of the parents is only temporary, and as soon as the young ones are capable of taking care of themselves, the old dog Otter goes to live by himself. The mother remains with her family until the rutting season returns, when she also departs to find another mate. In Norfolk the nursery is frequently found on the surface, in the great reed-beds.

The chief enemy of the Otter is the river-keeper on waters that are preserved for fishing, who has always his traps set for them. This is somewhat strange when it is remembered that the Otter is also an animal of the chase, packs of Otter-hounds still being kept like fox-hounds in certain districts, though the packs are by no means so numerous as in former times. The flesh of the Otter is rank and fishy-flavoured, and therefore not in demand for human food; but there are many records showing that it has been esteemed for use on days when the rules of the Church permitted fish only to be eaten, the clerical casuists easily finding that as it spends most of its active life in the water and has a fishy taste, it must be a kind of a fish! Readers of dear old Izaak Walton will remember the Otter-hunter's reply when Piscator asks him whether he hunts a beast or a fish. The Huntsman says--

"Sir, it is not in my power to resolve you; yet I leave it to be resolved by the College of Carthusians, who have made vows never to eat flesh. But I have heard the question hath been debated among many great clerks, and they seem to differ about it; yet most agree that _her tail is fish_; and if her body be fish too, then I may say that a fish will walk upon land (for an Otter does so), sometimes five or six or ten miles in a night."

More recently Pennant says he saw an Otter in the kitchen of the Carthusian monastery near Dijon, being prepared for dinner.

There have been many cases of tame Otters who hunted streams for fish for the benefit of their owner, to whom they return on hearing a whistle or other signal. Some years ago an interesting account appeared in _The Field_ of an Otter whelp that had been mothered by an Otter-hound, afterwards hunting its own kind with the pack.

*Pine Marten* (_Mustela martes_, Linn.).

The Pine Marten or Marten Cat was formerly quite a common woodland beast, but owing to the onslaughts of the gamekeeper and the high prices paid for a skin, it is now, so far as southern and midland England is concerned, extinct. In the wilder parts of the Peak district, the North of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, however, it still exists, though in small and ever decreasing numbers in most places. In the Lake District it was quite recently reported to be fairly common even. The name _Pine Marten_ is a misnomer in so far as it indicates that the animal is at all restricted to pine woods; and it is probable that in the past it led to confusion, for in all the natural histories published up to a late date in the nineteenth century, Britain was credited with an additional species, the Beech Marten (_Mustela foina_). The two species are much alike, and the practice appears to have been to record those found in pine woods as _M. martes_ and those in other woods as _M. foina_! Bell, indeed, though he expressly states his disbelief in our possession of two species of Marten, refers to the white-throated form as the Beech Marten or Common Marten and says it is more frequently met with than the yellow-throated form or Pine Marten. The truth is that there is a white-throated _Mustela foina_ in Europe and Asia, but it does not reach northward so far as Sweden, Norway, or the British Isles. The white examples found in this country are old animals from which the yellow tint has faded.

The Pine Marten may be described as resembling roughly the better known Polecat, but with longer legs, a broader, more triangular head with sharp-pointed muzzle, and a longer, more bushy tail. Its entire length is between twenty-five and thirty inches, of which from nine to twelve inches are contributed by the tail. Its colour is a rich dark brown, except on the throat and breast which vary from orange through yellow to creamy-white. The middle of the back and the exposed sides of the legs and feet are darker than the rest, whilst beneath the tint approaches grey. The superficial colour is provided by the long upper, glossy fur, but beneath this is a finer, softer fur of shorter reddish-grey hairs tipped with yellow. The eyes are large, black, and prominent, the ears broad, open, and rounded at the tips. Like all the other members of the family Mustelidæ, the Marten is provided with glands near the base of the tail. It is these which enable the Skunk and the Polecat to disgust their enemies; but in the case of the Marten the secretion is merely of a musky odour and not objectionable; in consequence one of its old English names was Sweet Marten to distinguish it from the Foulmart or Polecat.

The habits of the Pine Marten are mainly arboreal, for which the long slender body and sharp long claws specially fit it, whilst the long bushy tail is useful as a balancer in negotiating slender branches in the pursuit of birds, or in reaching their nests for eggs. All the same, the Marten is at times very active on the ground where he destroys rats, mice, voles, rabbits, hares, game-birds, and domestic poultry large and small. He is even accused of attacking lambs and stealing trout from the fishing boats. He has also a taste for bilberries, strawberries, cherries, and raspberries; and C. St. John tells an interesting story in this connection which illustrates the Marten's cleverness in hiding. He says: "I saw in my garden in Inverness-shire that some animal came nightly to the raspberry bushes; the track appeared like that of a rabbit or hare, but as I also saw that the animal climbed the bushes, I knew it could be neither of these. Out of curiosity, I set a trap for the marauder; the next morning, on going to look at it very early, I could see nothing on the spot where I had put my trap but a heap of leaves, some dry and some green; I was just going to move them with my hand, when I luckily discovered a pair of bright eyes peering sharply out of the leaves, and discovered that I had caught a large Marten, who, finding that he could not escape, had collected all the leaves within his reach, and had quite concealed himself under them. The moment he found that he was discovered, he attacked me most courageously, as the Marten always does, fighting to the last. I had other opportunities of satisfying myself that this animal is a great fruit-eater, feeding much on the wild raspberries, and even blackberries, that grow in the woods." It also robs beehives of their honey.

The female Marten forms a nest of grass among the rocks, in a hollow tree, or utilises an old crow's nest by relining it, and produces a litter of four or five--sometimes varied in number from two to seven--and there are at least two litters each year. The young are exceedingly pretty and are easily tamed; though a captured adult is savage and untameable.

The dentition of the Marten is: _i 3/3, c 1/1, p 4/4, m 1/2 = 38_.

Cuvier divided the Linnean genus into two subgenera, _Mustela_ and _Putorius_, the first, Martens and Sables, possessing an additional small premolar on each side of the jaw; the second including the Polecats, Stoats, and Weasels. At a later date Nilsson called these subgenera genera, substituting the name _Martes_ for the Martens and giving that of _Mustela_ to the Weasels. This has the effect of making the name of the Pine Marten, _Martes martes_, which is rather ridiculous; and we have preferred to retain the Linnean name _Mustela martes_. The old spelling of the popular name was Mart_i_n, but in recent works, to avoid any possible confusion with the birds of that name, zoologists have agreed to use _e_ as the second vowel when writing of the mammals.

The Pine Marten is found in all the wooded regions of Europe and into Asia; northwards from the Mediterranean to the limits of tree-growth.

*Stoat or Ermine* (_Mustela erminea_, Linn.).

Though the gun and the snare of the gamekeeper and the poultry-farmer levy their toll upon the Stoat equally with the Polecat, and the keeper's gibbet always shows a goodly row of Stoats, the species manages to keep itself well represented, even in the strictly preserved woods of Southern England. There must, therefore, be some additional reason for the scarcity of the Polecat (see p. 74).

The Stoat is much smaller than the Polecat, its total length being only a little more than fourteen inches, of which about four and a half inches are the long-haired but not very bushy tail. In colour, too, it is very distinct, the upper parts being red-brown and the under surface white tinged with yellow. The tail takes the colour of the upper surface, except its tip which is invariably a tuft of long black hairs. In the Alpine districts of Scotland as in other northern countries, the fur in winter becomes pure white all over, with the exception of the tip of the tail which always remains black. This change takes place also in the North of England, but not so generally, and in the South it is only of rare occurrence, and often only partially, some parts remaining brown, as a ring around the eyes producing a spectacled appearance. The summer coloration is "protective" inasmuch that it harmonises generally with the colour of the ground littered with the remains of dead leaves, bark, etc.; but in a landscape under snow for months, as the Alpine districts are, the brown fur would render the animal so conspicuous that it would be heavily handicapped in the hunt for food; but the winter change to white fur enables the Stoat to steal upon its prey unseen from a short distance. The change is quite sudden, given the requisite fall in the temperature, the pigment being withdrawn. (See Introductory chapter.)

Like the Polecat, the Stoat can secrete a most objectionable odour from its scent-glands, but in this case it is not nearly so insupportable. St. John says that if the Stoat is suddenly shot before he has had time to see his aggressor the dead body has not this offensive odour; the same result follows upon his sudden death in a spring trap, but if he is trapped alive or hunted before being shot the vile smell is imparted to the fur and is irremovable.

The Stoat hunts along hedgerows, rivers and brooks, in the latter places for fish, of which all the members of the Weasel tribe are exceedingly fond. An eel or other fish placed in a trap is a deadly bait for these animals. The Stoat also frequents sand dunes, where it lives sumptuously upon Rabbits. It is very destructive to game and poultry, which it will attack right in the open field, and if pursued by a dog, immediately takes shelter in a mole's or rat's run, where pursuit is impossible. It will destroy the Mole and take possession of its chamber, though it appears to be fonder of "field mice" (Voles) than of Moles. Although largely nocturnal in its habits, it is by no means exclusively so, and there is more chance of observing the Stoat hunting in broad daylight than in the case of any other of our native carnivora. Sometimes it hunts in small packs--family parties; and it is said that when through increase of its own numbers it has largely reduced the food supply of a district, it will migrate in large numbers, when their associated courage is so great that they will attack a man. A single female who has young will, indeed, exhibit the greatest courage and ferocity in their defence. The Stoat hunts by scent, and its movements consist largely of a succession of low bounds which give its progress a snake-like appearance--and like the other members of the family it makes sidelong leaps. Many years ago, whilst walking along a woodland road in Surrey, we paused to listen to cries of terror in the cover far ahead. A panic-stricken young Rabbit came into the open in our direction swiftly pursued by a Stoat which rapidly gained upon it. As it came near the Rabbit became aware of our presence and appeared deliberately to change its course, and fell on its side exhausted against our feet. The Stoat, by this time only a few yards away, stopped, and looked up at us with a snarling expression, but kept out of reach of our uplifted stick. Realising that the hunt had failed and the Rabbit had found a spoilsport protector, the Stoat then made off into the bracken; whilst the panting Rabbit allowed us to carry it on our arm for half a mile until it had recovered. Its natural fear of man was not nearly so great as its terror inspired by the bloodthirsty Stoat; and when at length it was set down in what was judged to be a safe place, it hopped off without any frightened haste.

It appears that the Hare under similar conditions does not exert itself greatly to escape from the Stoat, but becomes so terrorised as to be unable to adopt methods which so frequently outwit the Fox or the fleetness of trained hounds.

The nursery is made in a hole in the bank, the hollow of a decayed tree, or in the retreat of a female Mole who has been killed or evicted. Here about April or May the female Stoat gives birth to four or five young, which she will defend with great fierceness against all dangers.

The distribution of the Stoat extends eastward from Great Britain into Asia, and from the Alps and Pyrenees across Europe to its arctic shores.

A local race of smaller size, with some variation in the colouring, is found in Ireland, and some systematic naturalists, eager to swell our short list of native mammals, have dignified it with a separate species name--_Mustela hibernicus_. In Ireland it is known as the Weasel, but no specimens or skins of the true Weasel (_Mustela nivalis_) have ever been received from that country. Another local race in the Isle of Jura on the west coast of Scotland is similarly given species rank.

*Weasel* (_Mustela nivalis_, Linn.).

Although of very similar form to the Stoat, the Weasel may be known by its smaller size and by the absence of the black tip which marks the tail of the Stoat. In colour there is little difference in the two species, except that in the Weasel the upper parts are of a redder brown and the under parts a purer white than in the Stoat. The head is narrower and the legs are shorter, whilst the tail, which is a conspicuous feature of the Stoat, is here less bushy and little more than half the length of the Stoat's appendage. The average length of a mature male is nine or ten inches, to which the tail contributes only two inches; the total length of the female is an inch and a half less than that of the male.

The long, slender body, short limbs, long neck and small head give it a snake-like appearance which is helped by its active, gliding movements. The snake-likeness is accentuated when only the foreparts are seen protruding from a hole. On one occasion as we passed a stack of cord-wood on the edge of a wood, our attention was attracted by a hissing noise. On the level of our face a snake-like head peered out from between the cord-wood; and many persons would, no doubt, assume that a snake had threatened them. But the snarling expression exposed the canine teeth. The cause of the demonstration was not obvious, but we presumed that there were young Weasels in the stack, and that some other predatory animal had threatened danger to them just before we passed, and had aroused the maternal rage. In spite of its small size the bloodthirsty Weasel is full of courage, and will attack creatures larger than itself. We have seen it, in the neighbourhood of a barn, struggling to haul along a nearly full-grown Rat, two or three times its own weight, after it had paralysed its victim by biting through the base of the skull. Sometimes it hunts in couples, or family packs.

Although, like the other members of its family, the Weasel is chiefly nocturnal in habit, it is also active by day, and may be encountered frequently in our rambles. His diet is varied, and includes rats, mice, voles, moles, frogs, small birds, and chickens. He will swim in pursuit of the Water Vole, and will climb trees and bushes in order to rob a bird's nest of eggs or young. Voles and mice are probably his principal victims, his small size enabling him to pursue them in their underground runs. But though the farmer may lose some of his chickens through want of care in protecting fowl-houses and runs, he has in the Weasel a most efficient guardian of his mangold-caves and other consumable stores. Many farmers have testified that their poultry is untouched by the Weasel, but destroyed by the Stoat.

One winter's day in Cornwall we were strolling up a road from the sea that ran between farm buildings, when our attention was attracted to the peculiar movements of some object on the road about a quarter of a mile ahead. Screaming cries came from the rolling mass, and soon we got near enough to see that a struggle was going on between two creatures who were mixed intimately; and finally saw that a large, well-fed Rat had been taken in charge by a lithe little Weasel. Spots of blood on the road and the redness of the rodent's neck-fur showed that the bite that rendered the Rat powerless had been given already. So intent was the Weasel upon the work in hand that for a moment he appeared ignorant of our presence within a few feet. Then he paused, stood upright on his haunches, and looked up with a fierce gleam in his bright black eyes that seemed to say, "Don't interfere, there's a good fellow. I've tackled him fairly--let me finish the job." That slight pause gave the Rat a chance--a very poor one, but he tumbled in a stupid, drunken kind of way towards the hedge, to which the Weasel had been trying to drag him.

On the other side of the hedge was a "cave" of mangolds upon which the Rats had been committing fearful ravages, as is their wont, and this particular thief had waxed fat upon such fare. The Weasel had evidently caught him in the act of committing larceny, but the Rat had given the little policeman a run through the hedge and across the road before the Weasel had leaped upon the culprit's back and inflicted the deadly bite. So much was told with tolerable certainty by the drops of blood and the footprints on the soft road. Now, getting somewhat alarmed at our presence, the Weasel ran into the hedge; but immediately rallying his pluck came out of his corner again, seeking his quarry who was at the hedge-foot, dreamily looking for the hole that in ordinary health he would have darted to straight. He floundered hopelessly under the herbage; but in a second or two the Weasel had him again by the skin of the back, and was trying to haul him up the bank to get him through the hedge. Then, realising the impossibility of his task--for the Rat was probably six times the Weasel's weight--and finding we had taken up an attitude of benevolent neutrality, not loving Rats, he got on the Rat and finished the business. A few spasmodic movements of the extended limbs showed that the Rat was dead, so we left the Weasel to enjoy his feast of brains in the solitude he desired.

When the Weasel has failed by stalking or hunting such prey to secure a meal, he is known to resort to "charming" tactics. In full view of a hedgerow where small birds are numerous, he will throw his body into snake-like contortions to attract their attention. They become fascinated and curious, and though apparently filled with fear, they approach nearer and nearer until one is close enough to be grabbed by the charmer. Then the others recover their senses, and in numbers fly at the Weasel, mobbing and pecking him in a fearless manner, so that he is coerced by the defenceless creatures he intended to kill, and is glad to slink into cover. If there is a scarcity of live food, the Weasel will content himself with carrion. Its chief enemies are hawks.

There is, as a rule, no seasonal change of colour in the Weasel's fur in this country; but occasionally it has been found white in winter. In colder climates this change is quite normal.

The Weasel's nest is placed in a hole in the bank or in some hollow tree, and consists of dry leaves, grass, etc. In it the female brings forth from four to six--usually five--young, in spring or early summer; and the mother will sacrifice her own life in the defence of her helpless progeny. If necessary to remove them, she does it as a cat removes her kittens.

In the north it is known as the Whittret = Whitethroat of Suffolk; in Yorkshire, the Ressel; in Cheshire, the Mouse-killer; in Sussex, the Beale; and in some parts of Surrey as Kine, which suggests Gilbert White's Cane, the local name in Hampshire for "a little reddish beast not much bigger than a field mouse, but much longer," of his fifteenth letter to Pennant. The more general name Weasel is the Anglo-Saxon _Wesle_.