When I turned my property into an Audubon/NWF Certified Wildlife Habitat years ago, I didn't know that encounters like this would occur.
Having a re-wilded space is genuinely the gift that keeps on giving. That is, if you're into gifts like hearing blood-curdling fox screams in the dead of night, or being startled by very fast and blurry things running past you outside, or often finding yourself proclaiming things like "Whose poop is this?" or, of course, my favorite— (an oldie but a goodie)—"It smells like something dead out here."
But then you have these moments….
This video was taken a few years ago here. This is a Long-Tailed Weasel who had decided to hunt newly-fledged House Sparrows on my patio—all while I was sitting there drinking my coffee!
No, I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING—this was NOT a ferret! It’s a weasel.
They’re native to New Jersey and they are common; we just don’t get to see them much (they’re a sneaky bunch). It was incredible to watch this little guy/gal up close and personal. Observing this behavior became a somewhat frequent occurrence for us; wherever we went on the property, there was a chance we’d run across this bouncy, supercharged creature—and as it didn’t really seem to care one whit about our presence, I was almost waiting for it to sigh or yawn, as if it found us just, so…boring.
I've lived in New Jersey all my life and spent countless hours in/around rivers, creeks, and streams—and I’d never seen a weasel in person until we built our habitat here.
My first sighting was on my property approximately 5 years ago…a Short-tailed weasel who I’d sometimes spy patrolling and snooping around the pond. Then, there were the increasing sightings of Mink—and what sly creatures they are!---here and gone in a flash. I didn't see anything for about two years, but then this feisty thing showed up and had been constantly out and about. Cute as a button and crazy as all get-out.
It even managed to instill some comic relief into an incredibly painful and somber moment. Our beloved cat Bea had passed away, the victim of a profoundly aggressive and untreatable cancer. We had a casket hand-crafted for her and had dug an appropriately-sized hole in the side yard (which she was fond of watching from her favorite upstairs window seat). As we prepared to lower her casket in—the weasel popped its head out from one of walls of the hole!
Apparently, when my husband dug the hole, he intersected a series of chipmunk tunnels, which the weasel had found---and was busily looking for either the current occupants or their food stash (and succeeded in the latter). Watching this creature dart in and out the exposed tunnels, stopping occasionally to give us a looking-over, and then madly tossing out piles of stored seed brought a welcome moment of joy and laughter. When it had finally finished and taken off up a nearby tree, we were left to complete the ritual of burying Bea, albeit with hearts which were now a bit less heavy.
The gift that keeps on giving.
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