The Little Tiger of our Jungles 



" CANE " was an old country name for a very small 

 weasel. The idea of two kinds of weasels is due no 

 doubt to the small size of the females. When Mr. and 

 Mrs. Weasel have been shot by a gamekeeper, and 

 strung up side by side on a bush and how often in 

 our woodland walks we see weasel forms dangling, 

 stiff and stark, from keepers' gibbets ! we observe 

 that Mrs. Weasel is scarcely half the size of her gallant 

 mate. 



The hand of every gamekeeper is against weasels, 

 but they are not killed so easily as stoats. The weasel's 

 habit of running through mole-runs stands him in 

 good stead. As the keeper's gun goes up, the little 

 hunter disappears as by magic underground, and he 

 will dash along the mole's run for fifty or even a hundred 

 yards. Sometimes we have come upon a weasel in a 

 field of short grass, and have rushed at speed towards 

 him, only to see him sink into the earth and vanish. 



He is the little tiger of our English jungles : ferocious, 

 bloodthirsty. Nature sent him to keep down the mice, 

 and for this work she furnished him with needle-sharp 

 teeth and a wonderful hunting nose. His cunning 

 little head is somewhat flat, like an adder's, his body 

 lissom and snake-like ; his ears are small, and his tail 

 is short and sparse, very different from the stoat's 



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