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.

Prickles

West European Hedgehog (Erinaceus europaeus)

While taking the clothes down off the line down the other afternoon — I do so love the scent of sun-dried laundry — I heard a rustling from the nearby flowerbed. Imagine my surprise when I spotted a prickly, round, little backside among the weeds: a hedgehog! A West European Hedgehog (Erinaceus europaeus) to be precise. I sprinted back to the house to get Mike and my camera, and together we found not one, not two, but FOUR youngsters snuffling among the still-thick plantings. We also found their cozy nest (a carefully tended pile of dead leaves under the elevated oil tank), so hopefully they'll be rummaging around the garden for a while. The Woodland Trust website says litter sizes range from 3-7, and that the youngsters spend about a month and a half with their mothers before heading off on their own. They'll breed at 12 months, and live up to seven years (though most only survive 2-3 years). They're largely nocturnal, though they sometimes make short forays early or late in the day. Apparently, they spend much of their lives asleep.

They're exciting to see, because hedgehog populations are in freefall across Britain, losing more than 65% of their numbers in the past 25 years. Loss of habitat is a primary problem. Hedgehogs need woodland and hedgerows for food and shelter, and modern agricultural practices often involve ripping both of those out. Hedgehogs and roads don't mix either; curling themselves into spiny, immobile balls for protection doesn't work out well for hedgehogs when they're faced with a car. Loss of food sources is hurting them too. Recent studies have shown a catastrophic loss of insects across much of the world. That means invertebrate eaters like hedgehogs (which also eat earthworms, slugs, carrion, fallen fruit and the occasional bird egg, as well as insects)  have less and less to nibble on. Hopefully, the buffet remains well-stocked in the garden, and we'll be seeing these little bumblers for years to come!

Mousie

Wood Mouse (Apodemus sylvaticus)

We had an unexpected visitor to the ground under our bird feeders yesterday — a Wood Mouse (Apodemus sylvaticus). It was unexpected only in that we saw it during the day; this species is common and widespread in gardens (and a wide variety of other habitats) right across the UK. However, it's typically nocturnal, and thus not often seen. We've known for years that these little rodents are around, as we've caught some in the house. (We have live traps baited with raisins in the loft over our office, and have transplanted an astounding TEN to appropriately distant woodlands this winter.) This one appeared to be a youngster, and it was surprisingly unwary. I elbowed my way across the garden commando-style and got within a couple of yards of it. No doubt it was distracted by all of those leftover seeds!

The Wood Mouse is similar to a House Mouse, but is browner (rather than grey) with a white belly, and has larger ears and eyes. Adults measure 3-4 inches (8-10 cm) in body length, with a tail almost equally long. They're good climbers, as evidenced by the fact that they've reached our loft. But most live in underground burrows, where they also have food stores and nesting chambers. They're prolific reproducers, with females capable of bearing up to six litters a year of 4-8 young. Most live no more than a year. They're key food for Tawny Owls, which we've also seen in the garden. If the number of Wood Mice in their territory falls too low, the owls may not even breed.

Oh Deer

Wild mammals are pretty thin on the ground here in Britain, so it's a red-letter day any time we spot one. We've caught this little Reeve's Muntjac (Muntiacus reevesi ) in the garden a few times now, typically either investigating the paths through the pocket meadow or haring away down the driveway if one of us opens the door without noticing the deer's presence first. I sneaked this shot through the kitchen window; it's not a great capture, but it's one of the very few I've managed to snap — and believe it or not, it's better than the others. Muntjacs aren't native here; according to the Norfolk Wildlife Trust, they were first introduced to Woburn Park in Bedfordshire back in 1838 and have spread fairly rapidly across much of southern England (through escapes and deliberate introductions) ever since. They're pretty cute, but are also causing some fairly serious conservation issues. They are particularly fond of forest understory plants, and are munching their way through woodlands with abandon. They haven't done much damage in our garden (yet, anyway), but our neighbours aren't quite as excited to see them as we are!