Weasely identified or stoatally different?
SOME of the best advice I ever received about wildlife had me pressing my lips against the back of my hand and making the sound of a squealing rabbit and, as mad as it may sound, it works a treat for attracting inquisitive stoats and weasels into the open and sometimes as close as your shoes.
You can achieve the same result using a blade of grass between your thumbs and blowing into cupped hands, so long as you get the tone correct.
If you know where the creatures live, your chances are particularly good and it seems that these stunning little musteloids – weasel family - find it difficult to resist the possibility of an easy meal.
This ancient trickery, used in days gone by to shoot them or whack them with a spade before they could slip off, ribbon-like, into the undergrowth or vanish into the anonymity of a dry-stone wall.
In principle this is a great idea, just a little bit awkward if you get caught doing it by a group of stray ramblers.
Imagine trying to explain yourself.
Twice for me and I’d lost them each time as soon as I mentioned squealing like a dying rabbit.
Another, perhaps more questionable wildlife hint, was to simply explain the difference between a stoat and a weasel thus.
One is weasily identified and the other is stoatally different.
I know, there goes tumbleweed now, I’ll find my own way out.
Here are the stats from the Mammal Society: Stoat, long slender body with short legs. medium to short tail, always with a black tip, fur ginger to reddish brown above, white to cream below, straight line separating the two colours.
Some animals turn white or partially white in winter (known as ‘ermine’).
Males 27.5-31.2cm, females 24.2-29.2cm, tails 9.5-14cm.
Males 200-445g, females 140-280g.
Weasel: fur ginger to russet brown, cream below, undulating border between, long slender body, short tail (and no black tip).
Slightly smaller than the stoat.
Males 19.4-21.7cm, females 17.3-18.3cm, tail: males 4.2-5.2cm, females 3.4-4.3cm, males 106-131g, females 55-69g.
Unfortunately for the stoat, their splendid white pelage (fur) made the animal very attractive to furriers and for many centuries there was a healthy bounty on ermine skins for Royal Robes.
Look closely at some of the Queens robes next time there is a state event, the white fur with the black spots, at a guess equals one hundred dead stoats, or more.
The Prince of Wales, considering his conservation credentials, may well be embarrassed if reminded that his Investiture Robes in 1969 contained several hundred ermine pelts.
The robes were made by Ede & Ravenscroft, crafted from hand-woven purple velvet lined with ermine and finished with an ermine cape and collar fully lined with white silk.
It was similar to the robe made for the previous Prince of Wales, including original solid gold clasps.
In addition to many Monarchs, including the robes for King George III’s coronation, in 1761, Ede & Ravenscroft was commissioned to clothe 16 dukes, 46 earls and over 100 peers. That’s a lot of stoats. Ermine became linked with Western European courts due to a legend stating that an ermine would ‘rather die than be defiled/soiled’, as translated from the Latin, ‘potius mori quam foedari’.
Hence its representation of royal ‘moral purity.’
My favourite sighting occurred when I was visiting the old Crowden Outdoor Centre in the late 1980s.
It was tough decision I had to make each morning as I left Bleak House, ‘where shall I eat this morning, the YHA or the Outdoor Pursuit Centre?’
I was working for the old North West Water at the time as Woodhead Reservoir Keeper, the last of a long-line from the 1860s.
If anyone had ever asked, I’d be checking the water.
On this particular morning, I caught sight of a stoat slithering over the snow like a ribbon before sliding into a hole.
One blow on the back of my hand and out he came right on cue.
That was the good news, and I’ll never forget being close enough to see his breath.
The bad news was, my camera was in the car.