Stoats
The most fascinating. thing about a stoat is its stance. It has the poise of a snake about to strike. One is hardly ever close enough to see whether it blinks or not, but I never fail to be held by its stare, the set of its head, its light front and those neat little ears. Here are curiosity, alertness and a seeming lack of fear. When it goes in haste, it springs out of sight so tender-footed as to make one think the grass must be full of thorns. Just as suddenly it reappears to look again. These thoughts came to me as I watched two stoats working the hedge. Their living has depended for so long on making sure that no corner is left unexplored that their work in a warren would put a good ferret to shame. They do not hurry, but go in and out of holes, exploring cavities among roots. Rabbits, mice and even smaller prey are sought with a thoroughness that deserves to be rewarded. The pair that were in the hedge worked their way past me and appeared to have missed my scent, but suddenly the smaller of the two reared and looked at me. His companion had gone below. After a while, remembering his business, the small one vanished too.
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