Weasels of West Yorkshire

Weasel | Mustela nivalis

Two leaves tumbleweed down our lane in a peculiar way. I don’t know what draws my eyes to them in particular, the odd movement I guess. Then it hits me.

“What’s that, is it two rats fighting?!” I say to Chris as I slow the car to a halt. As I spoke, I already felt hope switch on inside me that this could be our first in-person sighting of a live mustelid on our farm. I’d been hoping since moving here three and a half years ago. So far I’ve seen two weasels scurry across moorland roads on the tops, and a dead stoat near the farm.

We stare.

“I’m getting out for a closer look,” Chris says excitedly and I say too abruptly, “don’t you’ll scare them off!” Regretting the way it came out straight away, too snappy and not calmly instructional.

I never mean to do it, least of all when Chris is excited about wildlife, but my urgency at preventing them running away made it come out too sharp. “I just mean, they’ll probably run away if you go near them,” I try to recover but Chris is downbeat from being scolded.

While the scrapping animals clearly aren’t bothered by the car, I instinctively know at the first sight of a human so close - barely 5 metres away - they’ll run away.

Then it becomes clear, yes, one is a weasel. Smaller than the rat it’s attacking, and I check, a short tail that’s completely brown. No sign of the distinctively black bushy end of a stoat. It could only be one of the two given its small size.

Through the windscreen a full on David Attenborough scenario unfolds in minute scale. Chris and I taking photos and videos on our phones.

Weasels are the smallest carnivorous animal in the UK, if you exclude insects. They are part of the mustelid family, or Mustelidae if you want to be posh, or more accurately, scientific. In the UK mustelids include stoat, mink (which were released into the wild from North America), ferret (also released), polecat, pine martin, badger and otter. Increasing in size in that order.

I’ve been getting to know mustelids well over the last few years, not least from my recent trip to see the largest in Scotland, otters on the Isle of Mull. I find mustelids funny mammals, they look stretched, except perhaps badgers which are more rotund. They’re almost cartoon-like with their long bodies and tiny legs, a cross between a sausage dog and a mouse.

Most mustelids are carnivores, though badgers are omnivorous, also eating berries and other plants, and otters largely eat fish and crustaceans.

Our little friend in front of us is demonstrating how ferocious a carnivore a weasel really is. Tiny in size, smaller than the large rat, about 20cm long, it has a tight grip of the rat’s neck and is tussling and tumbling.

Over the last few years on the farm I’ve grown quite fond of rats, from a distance. They’re quite sweet looking things out here, with clear brown fur and white fluffy tummies, they tend to keep themselves to themselves. I feel sorry for the rat because, although it’s giving as good as it can get, I already know who will win.

Weasels are built to kill. Their chestnut brown, slimline physique allows it to speedily weave around the rat in a snakelike way. Pint-sized predator.

Its final bite finds its mark, clamping to the back of the rat’s neck and the rolling pair stop. The rat giving a few last active kicks in vain.

Something about this moment, which I’m used to seeing on TV with lions on antelope, comes with a kindness, despite the reality of what’s happening. It’s not the first time I’ve looked at a mammal killing its prey in this way that I’ve thought there is something respectful about this necessity of the predator’s life. Hugging the prey tightly in its furry paws, slow and gentle. There is no ripping or cutting, that comes later.

The rat gives a last, soft brush of its hind leg and the weasel lets go, standing up. It knew from experience, the very moment life left the rat. I spotted it too.

A lurch of sadness hits me for the rat. Its eyes closed, peaceful. It doesn’t look at all how rats have been portrayed throughout my life.

It is true that rats can be a problem for humans, but where we live we see nature has its own controls, if we’d only stop killing them too.

The weasel turns and scurries to look up at our car, now it’s back in the room from the fight. A beautiful little mammal, how lucky we are to see it so close. It returns to the rat at speed, dragging it to the grassy verge, demonstrating its strength. Licking blood from the death wound at a fast-forward pace.

Suddenly the engine of our car jumps on, as it’s prone to do after sitting idle, and the weasel vanishes into the grass in the blink of an eye. “Go round now and leave it to it,” Chris says and we seize the moment to slowly drive round the rat. I run in to grab my proper camera, “are you coming too?” I try to encourage Chris back out now we’re further away, I hate that I might have discouraged him from enjoying wildlife.

As we tip toe back up for another glimpse, the weasel is back, dragging the rat, but clocks us even from the greater distance of 40m or so, quickly running off with its prize.

I managed to capture a few close ups of the weasel and the dead rat with my zoom lens but, while it’s not at all gory, I decided to spare you in this newsletter.

p.s. a reminder that this coming Monday 21 October at 7.00pm, I’m hosting an online session about wildflowers including 10 new fantastic plants to grow in your garden. To book and for full details, please visit this page. Paid subscribers to this newsletter can attend for free and instructions will be sent on Monday morning. Can’t wait to see you!