THE SHORT-TAILED FIELD VOLE 



stirred in a little gutter that carried the 

 water from the road down to the ditch. It was 

 the weasel, and it carried the vole dead in its 

 mouth. This time it saw us, paused, sat up on 

 its hind legs, and looked at us inquisitively. 

 It turned back into the ditch, but, not quite 

 satisfied, looked out again still with its victim 

 in its mouth, but the pony moved, and this 

 time the weasel disappeared for good. Prob- 

 ably a few moments later, the mouse having 

 been eaten, it was hunting again, for it not 

 only hunts for food, but for sport, enjoying 

 the chase for its own sake, which is why it is 

 such a terrible enemy to all mice. 



Though hard luck on the poor little voles, it 

 is really a very good thing that the weasel, 

 the kestrel, the barn and the brown owl keep 

 such a strict watch over them, for they increase 

 at a great rate, the families generally being 

 five or six in number, but often reaching as 

 many as nine or ten. In a mild season the 

 young ones will begin to arrive as early as 

 February, indeed they have been found during 

 an open winter even at Christmas time, and 

 the same pair of parents will have three or four 

 more litters in the course of the summer, so 

 that by the autumn the one couple will have 



