Weasel/ermine

I was thrilled when I found the tracks coming and going from my garage last December. Finally! Mustelid help with the mice was at hand. These most endearing creatures are fierce but merciful predators, killing their prey with a single bite on the back of the neck as I had witnessed one winter a long time ago… I was renting a small cabin while in graduate school.

I first met short-tailed weasel (Mustela erminea) in the fall when he was painted leaf brown and sported splotches of opalescent pearl. When I realized that he had taken up residence under a small well house just outside my window, I was delighted. By the time the first snow fell, he had donned his winter coat, tail tipped in black ink.

At first, I kept an eye out for him indoors from the table where I spent most of each day writing my thesis. With an increasing sense of wonder and fascination, I soon learned that he was most active early in the mornings and in the late afternoons. During these times he would reliably pop out of his lair and cautiously scan the white wooded lowland that led into deep forest.

He apparently was aware that a bobcat was on the prowl in his vicinity. He’d stay so still blending into his surroundings that I wondered if I could see him if I didn’t know he was there. Statue-like when upright, he remained motionless until something caught his attention. Then he would streak across the snow to capture an unwary rodent for dinner, most commonly a vole or mouse. Weasel killed instantly and held his prey in his mouth as he headed for home, a vision of serpentine grace.

Oh, I was so enamored by his behavior. I loved it when he would stand up straight as an arrow on his back legs and peer around with beady black eyes. And I wasn’t the only house inhabitant watching him. In addition to my free-flying dove and dog, I also had a long-haired rabbit named Moonflower who spent most of her time on the porch. She developed the same habit I did, sitting at her window in the late afternoons watching for weasel.

I couldn’t stand it. I had to befriend this beguiling creature. One afternoon before he emerged from his den, I left a bit of chicken at his front door. In a flash he shot out, snapped up the tidbit, and disappeared into his lair, presumably to enjoy a feast. Or maybe he stashed it for times when prey were scarce?

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It took less than two weeks for us to become friends. Now I would take the chicken out and call to him. He was always punctual, emerging almost instantly to take the morsel from my hand. Sometimes he would eat the chicken while I stood there. On other days, he apparently wanted privacy or was stockpiling his treat.

For four months, we met every afternoon and some days he greeted me with a funny little whistling sound or trill. At the end of March, I noted that the bobcat was targeting the well house, and I feared the weasel might have met his match. One day when I called him, he didn’t come. I was bereft because I suspected the worst. Had the bobcat finally gotten him? In any event, I never saw my friend again.

Later, when I first lived on my land, year-round weasels were common and I often watched them from my windows that faced the brook, wishing I could once again establish a friendship with one of these wily creatures. I kept a pile of scraps outside of one viewing area and was rewarded by regular visits from coyotes and a wolf.

Occasionally a bobcat or lynx would stop by. Mink and weasel tracks always led back down to the brook. Then came the lean years, when I tracked my woods on snowshoes in search of just one. Weasels disappeared and my rodent population exploded.

Where had they gone? It has been about seven years since I have seen weasel tracks until last December. Then I discovered another weasel living in the field. I tracked him to the brook day after day while snowshoeing that month, but I only saw the weasel once. Just today, after an inch of snow covered the treacherous January ice, I checked his den and could make out a few tracks. I don’t expect to be able to make friends with this one or the one who has taken up residence in my garage, but I am delighted to have them back.

I am not sure why weasels and other members of their family like mink, otter, and fisher are disliked by so many, since we need these predators to keep the rodents under control. I know that cat people fear the fishers, but my answer to that problem is to keep cats indoors or create safe caged spaces for them to roam outdoors. We have already lost half the birds in this country to house cats, who kill a million birds a year.

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Similar in appearance and behavior, short-tailed and long-tailed weasels are difficult to tell apart. It doesn’t help that both change color from brown to white in winter, emerging with sleek pale cream coats.

Long-tailed weasels, the larger of the two, are 7-13 inches long and weigh up to 5 ounces. Short-tailed weasels or ermines average 6-8 inches in length and weigh only 1-2 ounces. The long-tailed weasel’s tail is approximately half again the length of its body, while the Ermine’s tail is approximately a third the length of its body.

Both have black tips on their tails, but the ermine’s is much more pronounced. Both animals are chocolate brown in the summer, but the short-tailed ermine’s stomach is white, while the long-tailed weasel’s is the palest yellow.

These animals inhabit all of Canada and the northeast, Great Lakes, and northwestern states. Because their bodies don’t store fat, weasels can be seen during most of the day because they need to hunt. Research suggests that these incredibly intelligent animals have a number of vocalizations, but I have never heard the high-pitched squeaking that is supposed to be used in response to a threat.

Other sounds that I have never heard are barking, hisses, and chirps. Happily, I am all too familiar with the whistling and trilling sounds that weasels use when greeting a friend.

In Maine, we find them in open woods, meadows, and fields. They can live in underground burrows, rock, and brush piles. Yesterday I also discovered weasel tracks going in and out of a brush pile close to the house (yay!).

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Sometimes, if the snow melts suddenly, you can see snow tunnels appear where weasels have been hunting underground or maybe using those tunnels in areas where predators like owls, coyotes, wolves, and wild cats abound. Weasels nest in the early spring, raising a number of kits (sources vary).

Our Maine weasels will eat anything! Voles, mice, squirrels (my nemesis), frogs, insects, and house scraps. As far as I am concerned, every weasel in the area is welcome here. Now that I know I have some locals, I am going to put out more treats to encourage them to stay.

Pausing before re-reading this draft, I stepped outside to fill the bird feeder. To my utter amazement, the entire step was covered with weasel tracks! Delicate clawed prints stood out in the sun-softened snow. I didn’t even know I had weasels around the house!

The night before I had created the perfect storm, much to my irritation, by spilling seed around the steps while bringing the feeder in. I saw a few mouse tracks, but by the looks of the snow, it was the weasels that had a feast. Awestruck, I walked around, following their paths noting, too, the absence of squirrels. This last discovery made my day.

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