Like the Polecat, the Stoat can secrete a most objectionable odour from its scent-glands, but in this case it is not nearly so insupportable. St. John says that if the Stoat is suddenly shot before he has had time to see his aggressor the dead body has not this offensive odour; the same result follows upon his sudden death in a spring trap, but if he is trapped alive or hunted before being shot the vile smell is imparted to the fur and is irremovable. The Stoat hunts along hedgerows, rivers and brooks, in the latter places for fish, of which all the members of the Weasel tribe are exceedingly fond. An eel or other fish placed in a trap is a deadly bait for these animals. The Stoat also frequents sand dunes, where it lives sumptuously upon Rabbits. It is very destructive to game and poultry, which it will attack right in the open field, and if pursued by a dog, immediately takes shelter in a mole's or rat's run, where pursuit is impossible. It will destroy the Mole and take possession of its chamber, though it appears to be fonder of "field mice" (Voles) than of Moles. Although largely nocturnal in its habits, it is by no means exclusively so, and there is more chance of observing the Stoat hunting in broad daylight than in the case of any other of our native carnivora. Sometimes it hunts in small packs--family parties; and it is said that when through increase of its own numbers it has largely reduced the food supply of a district, it will migrate in large numbers, when their associated courage is so great that they will attack a man. A single female who has young will, indeed, exhibit the greatest courage and ferocity in their defence. The Stoat hunts by scent, and its movements consist largely of a succession of low bounds which give its progress a snake-like appearance--and like the other members of the family it makes sidelong leaps. Many years ago, whilst walking along a woodland road in Surrey, we paused to listen to cries of terror in the cover far ahead. A panic-stricken young Rabbit came into the open in our direction swiftly pursued by a Stoat which rapidly gained upon it. As it came near the Rabbit became aware of our presence and appeared deliberately to change its course, and fell on its side exhausted against our feet. The Stoat, by this time only a few yards away, stopped, and looked up at us with a snarling expression, but kept out of reach of our uplifted stick. Realising that the hunt had failed and the Rabbit had found a spoilsport protector, the Stoat then made off into the bracken; whilst the panting Rabbit allowed us to carry it on our arm for half a mile until it had recovered. Its natural fear of man was not nearly so great as its terror inspired by the bloodthirsty Stoat; and when at length it was set down in what was judged to be a safe place, it hopped off without any frightened haste.