By scent alone the stoat runs down the rabbit chosen for its dinner.
No matter how devious the rabbit's course, or how many other rabbits
cross the trail, the one line of scent is followed to the end, and
sooner or later the death-scream of the rabbit is inevitable. We have
often seen the last act of the tragedy. One hunted rabbit made for the
shelter of young underwood, cleverly twisting amid the jungle of fern,
grass, and bramble, so that the leaping stoat could have been guided
only by scent; the rabbit seemed to understand that the hollowness of
the bottom of old wood offered few chances of dodging. At last the
rabbit grew exhausted; and, at a loss to know where to run to shake
off its pursuer, but a few yards behind, took to turning and twisting
with redoubled energy, now rounding a leafy stump, then dashing into a
clump of brambles, doubling, again rounding the stump, again flashing
through the brambles--then sitting up for a second, listening to hear
if the stoat were still following. The stoat, thus baulked again and
again, grew ever more furious. Coming up on the hot scent to the leafy
stump, round which the rabbit had slipped in the nick of time, it
would dash in so furiously as to make the brown leaves rattle off,
as a terrier leaps at a rabbit's seat from which the owner has just
fled. The burning scent throws the pursuer into a frenzy. But the
stoat, with a chatter of rage, lost little time in following on into
the bramble clump; and the sight of man near by was not enough to turn
it from its object. At last, in the brambles, it came upon the rabbit
dead-beat--charged in a blind fury, sank its teeth into the head,
worrying home the grip. Then, having disabled the rabbit, it retired
a yard or two and charged again, retiring and charging at intervals,
as if to gain fresh power for driving in the needle-sharp teeth.... At
such a moment the keeper feels more than ever justified in shooting a
stoat.
Waiting for the end of such a rabbit hunt, for a moment we lost sight
of the chase; then felt certain we could hear the hoarse breathing
of the captured rabbit in a thick spot, on the opposite side of the
20-foot ride near where we were standing. Yet we felt certain that
neither stoat nor rabbit had crossed from our side. We waited, and sure
enough the stoat caught the rabbit almost at our feet, where we had
thought them to be. The mystery of the heavy breathing remained--the
sound was exactly that of a rabbit being mauled by a ferret within
a burrow. We crossed the ride, made search, and discovered a large
hedgehog curled up in its nest. While the bloodthirsty business had
been going forward six or seven yards away, the hedgehog had lain
snugly wrapped in winter sleep--actually snoring!
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