September, 1919] 



The Canadian Field-Naturalist 



47 



the supposed original population we have ten 

 ermine per square mile. I do not consider this 

 figure in the least excessive for the wooded, northern 

 portion of Alberta. That portion of the province, 

 say from Edmonton to Fort Smith, would thus yield 

 about 1 ,478,750 weasels. About one in every ten 

 of this number would undoubtedly be longicauda ; 

 that is, one of the latter and nine cicognanii to the 

 square mile. 



North of Jasper Park on the Hay river during 

 the fall of 1913 a friend and I in eight weeks' 

 trapping for this animal, took about eighty skins. 

 Whether these were all M. cicognanii or not I 

 cannot now say. I queried this point under 

 longicauda. As the territory trapped, up the valley 

 of the Hay river, Fish creek, and other tributary 

 streams, did not exceed thirty linear miles, one- 

 quarter of a mile in width, we have only a total 

 of eight square miles. Agam this is ten weasels to 

 the square mile, coinciding with the Edmonton 

 figure, with this difference, however, that the number 

 of the trapped animals is not doubled to indicate 

 the probable total population. This is because over 

 the restricted area of the valleys and the prolonged 

 period of trapping I believe most of the weasels 

 were taken. At Edmonton this was not the case. 

 In the former instance, a certain influx of animals 

 from adjacent areas may have occurred as the com- 

 petitive influence was removed from the valleys, 

 thus lowering the figure somewhat per square mile, 

 but I do not think a weasel travels widsly in a 

 wooded country like western Alberta. 



Many interesting experiences happen to a man in 

 the woods. One day I travelled up a long dark 

 timbered ravine that cut into the White-mud river 

 south-east of Edmonton. At the base of a big 

 spruce I had a "set" for ermine, which on in- 

 spection showed the bait stolen with some of it in 

 the sprung trap. In a few minutes' hunting, an- 

 other hare was secured with which to replace it. 

 The meat being warm was no doubt exuding a 

 tantalizing odor to furtive nostrils, for as I knelt 

 at the trap, a faint rustle, like leaves in a light 

 breeze attracted my attention. There was no wind, 

 so I concluded that it was a shrew, but looking 

 quickly, following a repetition of the sound, I saw 

 a beautiful snow-white ermine silhouetted among 

 the dark roots of a spruce not three feet distant. It 



eyed me for a while, head held high and nose a- 

 quiver; then it disappeared. But the next moment 

 back it came, followed by a rapid series of dis- 

 appearances and reappearances. I then laid the 

 rabbit near the roots and the intrepid little rascal 

 ran out, bit into the meat and retreated. After doing 

 this for a while he would pertly mount the rabbit's 

 carcase with his front feet, draw one foot up under 

 his breast as if it were cold and gaze me straight 

 in the face. Ambition was now chasing away all 

 discretion. His next move wais to bite into the 

 rabbit's ear and attempt its removal to the hole. 

 The brave attempts following this consuming desire 

 were indeed very commendable. 



A year later near a mountain pass in Alberta a 

 similar experience befell me, while I was setting a 

 lynx snare. This time the ermine after watching 

 me with beady eyes for a time, actually followed 

 (though with caution) a piece of meat that I 

 slowly pulled along the ground. It was not be- 

 cause of food scarcity that prompted this, for hares 

 existed in plenty throughout the region that 

 autumn. 



Another time on Fish lake, in the same general 

 region, I broke through the ice one early afternoon 

 and to prevent frostbite was compelled to camp 

 and dry out my clothes. Comfort was about re- 

 stored as I sat dreamily gazing into the leaping 

 camp-fire when something flashed just to one side 

 of my line of sight and was gone. Looking, expect- 

 ing to see a whisky-jack, as usual, I saw nothing, 

 the silent wilderness apparently, excepting myself, 

 without an atom of life. About to dismiss the 

 matter as a trick of the sight, I saw an ermine 

 bounding along among the trees, hesitating moment- 

 arily, but ever circling nearer, until on the very edge 

 of the camp almost, he stood partly erect, daintily 

 folding one foot along his breast and surveyed the 

 scene for several seconds. He circled the camp 

 a number of times, darting here and there venturing 

 now close, then retreating, bolting under roots, into 

 holes, and over open spaces until I suppose his 

 curiosity was fully satisfied. Then I saw him no 

 more. There is a strange fascination in thus sitting 

 silently in a great solitude, flcetingly viewing a bit 

 of its wild life, open, free, unsuspecting, thougW 

 usually occult and mysterious. 



