A MIGHTY NIMROD
NO bigger in girth than a walking stick is that Nimrod_ of the hedges, ditches, and meadows which hunts the dwellers in the rank tangled jungle of undergrowth and herbage. A hunter by trade, his life's object the chase, he is one of the most dapper little fellows that ever laid nose to trail. But a few inches in length, still less in girth, he is clad in sandy-red, with creamy-white under-parts, inclUding a cream " choker " right up to his muzzle, delicately furred paws, a little short bottle-brush of a tail, and last, but not least, the brightest of dark eyes.
But it is not his lithe and graceful forin, nor his smart and dapper appearance which is the great. charm of the weasel—for after all our mighty Nimrod is only the weasel, the little red hunter of mice and voles, that, if his quarry be but small, is yet as great a hunter as any man or beast that treads this earth. No, what makes him so engaging is his dark inquisitive eyes, his air of alert curiosity, combined with a light-hearted enjoyment of life. He is ever on the dance, frisking about in and out of the mouse runs which he usually haunts. A mischievous weasel is a joy to watch, as I thought the day I saw one making mimic attempts on some birds. The wagtail family, for such they were, were running about on the lawn, the party consisting of an old bird followed by two young ones; the latter garbed in the demure grey uniform affected by immature pied wagtails. They were really old enough to catch flies for themselves, but with fluttering wings kept begging. their parent for food. She kept running to and fro catching flies for them, making short dashes here and there after the quarry that buzzed so lazily on the warm still air. Suddenly something 'brown flashed out of the long grass at the edge of the lawn, and the birds fled up in alarm, only to alight a little way off, as a weasel darted into the open. There it paused, as dainty a little devil is ever one saw, brimming over with life and mis- chief, dare-devil courage, restraining caution, and with arcuriosity as great as that of any of its tribe. Catching sight of me it stood up to get a better view, sitting -upright with its forepaws folded in-front of it. There the cheeky little imp-sat, his eyes shining with inquisitiveness, and I could even see the sporof brown beneath his chin, which flecked his front like the patch on the cheek of a beauty of bygone days. Next moment he was gone. Yet a few seconds later he dashed out again, made a dart at the birds, and dived again into the grass. For some minutes the game went on, until the wagtails flew -away, and the weasel, with a flirt of his short tail, and a disgusted expres- sion on his face that was quite comical, went off too.
When really bent on the chase a weasel is deaf and blind to all else, and it hunts mice and voles with a grim determination that does much to keep these prolific rodents within bounds. No wonder the unfortunate mice flee before it ! Woe to the one whose trail is picked.
up by the hunter. No pack of hounds on the scent of a fox was ever half so deadly as this little wisp of animated fur. The mouse may have bolted for dear life, but that makes no difference:- " With its keen. nose on the trail' the weasel follows, through all the turns and twists of the underground tunnels, where mouseholes run into mouse galleries, and up again to the light of day, he hunts the scent ; however complicated the line of that mouse, however the scent may have been crossed by other mice, he will patiently work itout, and hunt on and on, through that labyrinth of the underground world to which the small creatures of the hedgerows have -entrance. Those who have ridden in a fast gallop with hounds, those who have had the primitive hunter roused in them, will understand something of the entrancement and blindness to all but the chase which possess the weasel as it races on, taking the line from tunnel to tunnel, and finally to the upper air. We must then picture the chase being continued along the runs arid highroads which thread the herbage, the bewildered rush of the hunted mouse along the paths it knows so well, until its panic takes it blindly; into unknown ways. A break in the scent may give it a respite for a moment, when the weasel shows what a hunter he is, for as a -huntsman casts his hounds in a circle when they have lost the line, so does the weasel . seek to recover the scent by dashing around.- Soon' recovering it, he gallops 'on. Now it is, with the end near, that a hunted mouse will do any desperate thing. Several times I have seen the chase crossing a wide road: —a most fearful desert of ,desolation to these small creatures—and instances have been known of hunted• and hunter taking to the water. Once within sight, and all is over ; the weasel bounds upon its victim, and with a quick bite ends its - career.
Certainly, our Nimrod, or to give hini his scientific name, ..ilustela nivalis, is 'not only a mighty hunter, but a very good friend to mankind, for he does as much as any creature to keep down mice, voles, and rats. He often resorts to the farmyard, and takes up his quarters in some rick in which mice and rats have congregated, when not only the mice, but even the rats have cause to rue the presence of the fierce little hunter. If he cannot quite manage the old rats, he slays scores of young ones ; and the fariner looks upon his presence as a Godsend.
Sometimes the weasel is confused with its much bigger relative, the stoat, but they can always be told apart, not only by size, but because the stoat has a black tip to its its tail. The tiny weasel's short tail is merely plain brown. Weasels vary much in size, the male being bigger than the female, and the smallest specimens of the female sex seem hardly more than pencil-lengths of red-furred vitality. But whatever its size; a weasel is always a weasel, and a mighty Nimrod among the mice.
FRANCES PITT.
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