Polecat

European Polecat (Mustela putorius)

Last month, following nearly a week of snow and wind and bitter cold, I went out to the shed / garage / workshop to check that it had come through the storm okay and discovered a big hole in the ceiling. Plasterboard and tufts of insulation were scattered all across the furniture and boxes, and a sizeable puddle was growing below the gaping hole. Mike and I gathered broom and dustpan, and tidied up, blaming the new opening on melting snow somehow getting through the main roof. The next day, Mike went out to check for a resurgence of the puddle, and found intriguing evidence that something might be in the garage. A sleeping pad had been knocked off its shelf and chewed. The cover to the chainsaw blade had been carted halfway across the garage. On many shelves and benches, things were in subtle disarray—some shifted a few inches, others completely upended. We carefully searched, expecting perhaps a rat, and found nothing. Undeterred, Mike baited our live trap with some cat food. The following morning, when he checked, he found not a rat, but this lovely female European Polecat. What a surprise! We can only assume that she followed a rat or mouse (both of which we've seen on the property) into the roof of the shed, fell through a section of damaged plasterboard, and couldn't climb back up to get out again.

Polecats are only recently re-establishing themselves in Norfolk, where (like elsewhere in the UK) they had been heavily persecuted by farmers and the pheasant shooting brigade. They're relentless and efficient predators, often killing far more than they can eat at any one time and caching the leftovers for later consumption. They're wary, shy, and primarily nocturnal, so most people's only sighting of them is squashed by the side of the road. Despite their small size, they can range over enormous areas—up to 3-4 kilometres per night while hunting. Their territories, which are not strongly defended, can cover more than 1200 acres. Females have litters of 3-7 kits, giving birth sometime from March to June; we're hopeful ours didn't have any kits yet, since she would have been away from them for more than two days. While we'd love to have a polecat on the property, we worried about our neighbours' chickens—and what they might do if they caught her in their chicken shed. So we took her down the road a bit, to a quieter area where there should be plenty for her to eat. Given the distance they'll roam, she was probably back here before we were! The video below shows her scampering to freedom.

Bramble Finch

Brambling (Fringilla montifringilla), male

This winter, we've revelled in the presence of a small group of these handsome birds, which have spent the past few months nibbling the seeds of Buddleia bushes in the back garden. They're Bramblings (Fringilla montifringilla), finches that spend the winter here in Great Britain (and widely elsewhere across Europe and Asia). They'll be leaving us soon, heading back to the forests of the northern Palearctic where they breed, from Scandanavia right across to the Pacific Ocean. By the time the males get there, the rusty edges of the feathers on their heads and backs will have worn away, rendering them black-headed and black-backed. The number seen here in the UK varies wildly from year to year, depending on food supplies and weather on the continent. Some years, there can be as few as 45,000 here. Some years, there can be nearly 2 million! This was apparently a good year across the country, with birders reporting them in gardens everywhere. While they're with us, Bramblings are almost exclusively seed-eaters—reportedly particularly fond of beech mast. In the summer, on the other hand, they'll feed primarily on insects. We're sad to see them go, as they've been a bright spot in this dreary winter, but we also know that their departure is a sign of impending spring. Yahoo!

Female