For the last two weeks I’ve been captivated by the random mayhem on my little mountaintop brought about by a long tailed weasel invasion. I spend much of my time either outdoors working in my yard, or enjoying the sunrise and sunsets. But most of all, I’ve been captivated by watching the local weasels wage war on the gophers and voles here and keeping a very low profile to avoid being snatched up by hawks, which prey on weasels.
The head female weaz on my place keeps her two kits hidden during the day but early in the evenings they come scampering out of the den at the base of a live oak next to my driveway to explore, sniff, as well as kill and eat the hated voles.
Late last week I noticed that I didn’t have just one weasel family. I actually had two. The second family is a uniform dark brown and much more secretive than the original two–toned taupe/dark blond female that took up residence next to my upper vegetable garden.
Lord, how I love watching these two females gallop about my orchard, herding babies as they keep their eyes looking skyward trying to detect approaching birds of prey.
One of my neighbors, a member of the Rincon tribe of Shoshones, stopped me on my ATC this afternoon as I came back up my hill with the mail. “You seen the weasels?” I laughed, said “yes” and looked over to his woodpile where the taupe female and her two kits were weaving in and out of the stacked firewood.
My neighbor laughed as he told me that the weasels had wiped out the gophers on his half-acre. He also said he hadn’t seen a mouse in the woodpile since Mrs. Weaz moved in.
No doubt.
In my entire long life, I’ve only seen wild weasels twice before and that was several hundred miles north of here in the Sierras.
I’m halfway through the 2007 gardening season. I’m picking at least one basket of shiny plump red sequoia strawberries everyday; I’ve picked and eaten my own corn, several ripe juicy beefsteak tomatoes, and a couple of dozen fresh Brussels sprouts. But most of all, I’ve laughed everyday at a lithe, ferocious, predator that wiped out the gophers in and near my most productive garden and who pops up out of holes on her own unpredictable schedule, scanning the hill for another tasty gopher.
Wild long tailed California weasels, the very funny surprise of the 2007 gardening season.
“Thank you, Mother Nature.” I now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Jim Forbes 06/09/2007-- from rural San Diego County, where the weasels and my Chihuahua do play, separately thank God.
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