CHAMELEONS IN FUR AND FEATHER 27 



continent still evades the exterminating inroads 

 of man; indeed it often puts his traps to shame, 

 and wages destructive warfare in his very midst. 

 I speak of the weasel, — the least of all his family, 

 and yet, for his size, the most bloodthirsty and 

 jvidely dreaded little demon of all the country- 

 side. His is a name to conjure with among aU the 

 lesser wood-folk; the scent of his passing brings 

 an almost helpless paralysis. And yet in some 

 way he must be handicapped, for his slightly 

 larger cousin, the mink, finds good hunting the 

 year roimd, clad in a suit of rich brown; while the 

 weasel, at the approach of winter, sheds his sum- 

 mer dress of chocolate hue and dons a pure white 

 fur, a change which would seem to put the poor 

 mice and rabbits at a hopeless disadvantage. 

 Nevertheless the ermine, as he is now called 

 (although wrongly so), seems just able to hold his 

 own, with all his evil slinking motions and blood- 

 thirsty desires; for foxes, owls, and hawks take, 

 in their turn, heavy toll. Nature is ever a repeti- 

 tion of the "House that Jack built"; — this is 

 the owl that ate the weasel that killed the mouse, 

 and so on. 



The little tail-tips of milady's ermine coat are 

 black; and herein lies an interesting fact in the 

 coloration of the iweasel and one that, perhaps, 

 gives a clue to some other hitherto inexplicable 

 spots and markings on the fur, feathers, skin, and 

 scales of wild creatures. Whatever the season, 



