WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



tionist in one — and destroy it by his lancet-like 

 teeth. % 



It is characteristic of so courageous a creature 

 that it should be a faithful ally. A pair will stand 

 affectionately and nobly by each other in danger, 

 and a weasel mother will defend her young to the 

 last gasp. I once met in the spring, in the woods, 

 a family of minks — only another sort of weasel 

 — consisting of a mother and four little ones, per- 

 haps a quarter grown. In the first surprise the 

 mother darted under a rock, whining a danger- 

 signal to her children, one of which I knocked on 

 the head to add as an instructive specimen to my 

 collection of skins; while the others, too young 

 to understand their danger, dodged about among 

 the leaves. 



The instant I stooped to pick up the dead kitten 

 the mother rushed at my hand, and I had to draw 

 back quickly to escape her. She stopped at my 

 feet and sat up on her haunches, her lips drawn 

 back, her eyes gleaming, and every hair on end, 

 whining and daring me to come on. I stood perfect- 

 ly still, and in a minute she dropped down on all 

 fours, and, always keeping her eye upon me — 

 a giant to her apprehensive view — coolly began 

 to collect her babies, and carry them off, one by 



26 



