Wascally Weasels

Over the past few days we discovered that there are weasels in our midst. In fact, two different types on our very own property.

The first we alerted Mom to the presence of a stoat. Cute little critter (sorry no photos cause s/he was also quite quick) that was scurrying around one of the stone walls in our backyard. S/he was no doubt hunting chipmunks – something we consider OUR job. So despite its cuteness factor, Zoe and I were interested in protecting our prey. In addition, we were intrigued by its smell and thought maybe it was worth catching for that reason alone. Then the little thing HISSED at us!

By this time, Mom had gotten Dad’s attention and his arrival distracted us for a split second during which the weasel scurried under the fence with Dad in hot pursuit with his iPhone. We heard another hiss and some inappropriate words from the incompetent controller of the camera.

When Dad returned to the backyard he and Mom jumped on Google and both came up with the same conclusion that it was a indeed a stoat in its summer wardrobe:

Picture of a Stoat in summer from our friends at Wikipedia

During his reading of the wiki entry for stoats, Dad came across this picture as illustrated by Ernest Thompson Seton of a “surplus killing a family of chipmunks“.

This explained the reaction of the cheeky chipmunk in the front yard who is known for startling Mom in her office by knocking on her window when the birdfeeder is low, and for chittering at us as we leave for a walk. At the sight of the weasel, Cheeky hightailed it up the huge oak tree in our front yard. Dad didn’t see how far up the tree it went but he was guessing to the tippy top based on the urgency Cheeky showed in vacating the scene.

The second type of weasel around here is called a Fisher “cat”. These guys are apparently vicious and will attack small pets (dogs and cats alike). We’ve smelled one on numerous occasions and thought we’ve even seen one a couple of times. Our neighbor friend Mr E told my parents to stay clear of them even with us by their side.

Again we have no pictures but the internet has plenty. This one is from the Mass Audubon website.

Over the weekend, Zoe and I heard some animal screeching in a tree just outside our fence. This drove us bonkers. I even tried going under the fence but struggled with the tension wires that were added to the bottom so we could roll under it (and Mom grabbing at my collar)… anywho (that’s a totally different story though).

Then yesterday, around 3:30 afternoon, the noise returned and sounded like something in distress. Dad got us inside – despite our objections (Mom helped a little by shaking our treat jar and calling us) – and headed to the corner of the yard where the uproar was coming from. He saw a raccoon tail coming down the tree. Something was being carried away in the mouth of another animal. Dad thought it may have been one of the Fisher weasels with a raccoon in it’s maw.

But there was still a howling noise, so he picked up one of our gardening tools with a long pole and a sharp metal thing at the end (he calls it an edger) and headed outside the fence not knowing what he’d encounter.

This is what he found:

This is a picture he actually took with his iPhone

He said the little guy kept crying and actually looked like he wanted some help!

Not knowing what to do, he contacted a couple of animal rescue business that he found on the internet.

He also asked our neighbors S and P (the ones that we love cause they almost always have a milkbone for us) if they had any suggestions. They recommended calling the Car-lie-lee Police station. Great idea because it would likely mean we’d end up in the police blotter of the Carlisle Mosquito…again.

To our chagrin (we were with him on a walk when he called) the police recommended he contact the Mass.Wildlife@mass.gov directly! So much for our brush with fame.

Everyone he contacted said it was best to let nature run its course…whatever that means. One of the animal rescue people, Matt, responded that mother raccoons “have an unbelievable motherly instinct and will be back for any kits and move them to another den..”

The crying stopped about the time we finished our dinner and then this morning Dad looked and the baby coon was no longer in his spot in the tree. This, along with some information from the internet that fishers primarily hunt in twilight or after dark, make us believe that what Dad saw yesterday afternoon was indeed the mother moving her kits and she eventually was able to return and get the last one before any fishers showed up 🤞.

The Tempest in the Woods