58 MAMMALIA. 



him at once, and as he did so the rat raised on his hind legs, let- 

 ting his fore paws hang helplessly over his breast, and squealed 

 piteously. Not only did he show no disposition to fight, but offered 

 no resistance whatever, and did not even attempt to defend himself 

 when molested. The Weasel did not seize him at first, but cuffed 

 him with his fore paws and drove him from one corner of the cage to 

 another, glaring at him continuously. Then, with a sudden move, he 

 sprang upon his victim, already paralyzed with fear, laid open the 

 back of his head with a single bite, ate the brains, and left the quiver- 

 ing carcass untouched. 



The Ermine hunts both by day and by night, and climbs trees with 

 great ease and celerity. I have often " treed " them myself by run- 

 ning after them in the woods, and have also seen them chase chip- 

 munks up trees. Twice have I seen them run up the smooth trunks 

 of the beech. They are not very timid and will allow a near ap- 

 proach before taking fright. 



The much lamented Robert Kennicott, whose untimely death on 

 the icy shores of the Yukon* deprived the world, prematurely, of one 

 of her most indefatigable and conscientious naturalists, gave us such an 

 interesting and truthful account of the habits of this species, that I 

 take pleasure in reproducing brief portions of it here. He said : "A 

 more fierce and cruel mammal does not exist in America than this 

 little Weasel. The courage and sanguinary disposition of the pan- 

 ther are insignificant in comparison, having regard to the strength of 

 the two. Without hesitation, the Weasel attacks animals five or ten 

 times its own size; and, not content with killing enough for food, 



wantonly destroys whatever life it can, When a Weasel has 



gained access to a poultry -yard, it will frequently kill every fowl with- 

 in its reach in a single visit. . . . Fortunately, however, this animal, 

 even when abundant, does not enter the farm-yard so frequently as 

 might be expected, appearing to prefer a free life in the woods to 



* Mr. Kennicott died of heart disease, May 13, 1866, aged thirty. (Ball's Alaska, 1S70, p. 70.) 



