Summary
THE little face peering at me over the bank was gleaming eyed and handsome as the stoat watched our approach. Willow's nose went up, sniffing the air, and I touched his thick mane gently, our sign for "stay". The bank is a wide soil structure, part of an old flood defence scheme. In summer it is a place of horse or moon daisies - ox-eye as we call them - here and there, the bright blue of chicory. Now the vegetation is rank and over, but the stoat had found something to its liking for the fur around its mouth was red, and it was standing its ground.
"Chak-a-chak", the stoat's rapid, rather guttural cry was loud and there was a warning fierceness about it, saying: "I'm hungry and need my breakfast." It raised itself to full height on its haunches, forepaws against its chest, so, calling Willow, we detoured away along the pathway. The stoat's head dropped. It was feeding again.See the full content of this document
Extract
Stoat Stands to Protect Its Breakfast
Later, on our way home, I could see the s...
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