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AN HOUR AND QUARTER IN THE LIFE OF A STOAT
by RON ALLEN
It was while I had stopped to identify some small blue
flowers that I first saw it. I was up on Cabin Hill in
Hainault Forest on a warm Friday afternoon in late May; the
cuckoos were calling and the evening chorus of blackbirds
had just begun. Sitting down, I was endeavouring to find my
way through the key to small blue flowers, without much
success. But I soon heard a rustling to my right, and a
small squirrel-like animal came running by; I did not pay
much attention to it, as I had often seen squirrels around
here. However, a few minutes later (5.00 p.m.) I heard a
scuffle in the same direction as before and that 'squirrel'
appeared from within a group of rather startled rabbits with
one of them gripped firmly in its high-held jaws. It then
headed straight for the clump of gorse bushes in front of
me. It was either a stoat or a weasel, but not having seen
any black tip to the tail I assumed it was a rather large
weasel.
At 5.10 p.m. there was again a rustling in the same
place, but this time nothing to be seen. I returned to my
flora, only to be startled at 5.20 by that animal appearing
suddenly from a clump of bushes some twenty feet to my left.
We had both been startled by the warning call of a blackbird;
this time the stoat (for I could now see its dark tail) came
running smoothly towards my gorse clump, carrying, by the
skin of its back in its upheld mouth, a large mouse. At
5.22 it appeared from the same gorse clump and went straight
to the bushes to my left and from there, running by a
curious hopping motion, to another clump of gorse about
sixty to seventy feet in front of me.
Three minutes later, it re-appeared, carrying another
mouse from the same patch of gorse, went to the bushes to
my left, and after stopping to adjust its hold on its prey,