Country diary: Live fast, die young - that's the weasel way | Derek Niemann

Mells, Somerset: This one is barely still for a second as it tears around a quiet churchyard, hunting for a meal while evading detectionIf only the war poet Siegfried Sassoon could rise from the grave, he would be enjoying the little drama playing out in the churchyard just metres from where his body lies. Next to an avenue of clipped yews, a weasel is on the run.Does it run, or does it pour? This tiniest of mammal predators, more of a stretched mouse than a mustelid, is a slinky, straight-backed, mid-brown streak that flows over and under. We find ourselves murmuring "there it is", "and there", "now there", as it slips repeatedly under the tussocky grass and into the open again. And no wonder it chooses evasion and concealment, for this is a hunter hunted, easy prey for every cat, fox, sparrowhawk and kestrel with a good eye. Continue reading...