168 
JOURNAL OF MAMMALOGY 
by weasel from Aplodontia burrow to surface of ground, 13 inches; distance from 
exit of weasel burrow to center of nest, 30 inches. — William T. Shaw, State 
College of Washmgton, Pullman, Washington. 
THE SEA MINK, MUSTELA MACRODON (PRENTISS) 
There are traditions along the coasts of Maine, New Brunswick, etc., of a 
gigantic mink known as the sea mink, which was commonly trapped there during 
the early part of the nineteenth century. It disappeared about 1860. It is just 
possible that this was really the macrodon of Prentiss, 1903. If so, it is likely 
that specimens were preserved. It was the custom in the small hotels of the 
above region to have mounted any local animal of unusual interest in point of 
size, etc. These rareties were kept in glass cases as parlor ornaments or as bar- 
room accessories. If some of our travellers this summer would keep a lookout 
for monstrous minks in glass cases, and inquire also among the old-timers for 
information about the sea mink, we might get interesting details, or even speci- 
mens. — Ernest Thompson Seton, Greenwich, Conn. 
THE CURIOSITY OF THE PROWLING MINK 
As I slipped from the wet trunk of a windfall down into the snow, I noticed 
the trail of a mink leading away through the scrub pines. On account of 
the high elevation of the wooded hill, the distance from any pond water or brook 
and the deep snows and the scarcity of birds and small prey, I was somewhat sur- 
prised at the find. I looked back of the windfall and noted no trail; I scrutinized 
the snow on the dead trunk of the tree where the branches were heavy with needles 
and snow-gobs, and not three feet from my hand marks appeared the small foot 
prints. In the future I shall at all such times pause and look about. No other 
tracks appeared, only those on the trunk and the lone trail among the pines. 
Trees stood close to the windfall, while pine boughs swept low, so that the animal 
must have been traveling overhead and have dropped to the trunk below. The 
only birds in the woods were a few chickadees, crows, and blue jays. I have not 
heard of the mink as a tree-haunter or a tree-traveler; that is, of his using the 
interlacing boughs for any distance. In approaching the windfall I had crossed 
only a pheasant’s track some fifty yards back, and I had noticed the trail sharply 
for the tracks revealed that the bird had visited every weed head sticking above 
the snow, diligently hunting for seeds. Weeds were few and far between, for there 
was some three feet of snow under a heavy crust, and upon this lay a light fall 
of powdery stuff some two days old. An examination of the mink trail proved it 
to be practically fresh, made during the night or early morning, as light forest 
winds had not dusted or drifted the tracks. 
I decided to follow the trail and see what the animal had done on his widely 
ranging prowl. It led at a leisurely pace, at a seeming walk, as though time 
were an illusion and prey a thing unknown. Thick clumps of young birches 
were occasionally visited, but only such as grew in the set direction of the trail. 
Again, when pine boughs bending with snow swept the ground the tracks searched 
the shelters beneath and passed on. Pheasant and ruffed grouse tracks crossed 
and re-crossed, biit the mink never seemed to halt in its journey over these. 
