Hedgehog (Erinaceus europÆus, Linn.).

The Hedgehog, Urchin or Hedgepig is so distinct from every other British mammal, that anybody could correctly name it at sight. The development of many of its hairs into long, stiff spines gives it an individuality that is not to be confused with any other; but there are other peculiarities, such as the extreme shortness of the head and neck in comparison with the bulk of its body, and the muscular power that enables it to remain rolled into a ball with every part protected by erected spines. But for the fact that the Hedgehog is frequently introduced into houses and gardens to keep down insect pests, few town-dwellers would have had the opportunity of seeing the Hedgehog alive; for it is a nocturnal beast coming from its retreat only at dusk and hunting through the night. There are, however, exceptions to this rule when a heavy summer downpour of rain has drenched the herbage and caused the snails and slugs to show considerable activity. Then the Hedgehog wakens also, and reduces their numbers; for it is with such fare, plus insects, worms, mice, rats, frogs, lizards and snakes, that the Hedgehog maintains his portliness. He passes the day under a heap of dead leaves or moss in a spinney or thick hedgerow, and the solitary observer in such places may sometimes be guided to this retreat by his snoring! The winter time is spent as a rule in continued sleep; though he has been known on mild nights in winter to wake up and prowl around for the very few good things then to be found. But he is no intermittent hibernator like the Squirrel and Dormouse; therefore he makes no provision by laying up winter stores, which are only possible for seed-feeders. For his winter retreat he looks out for a hole in the bank—perhaps one that has been gradually enlarged by a colony of wasps to accommodate their continually increasing nest—and this he lines with dry leaves and moss, carried in by the mouth. Then he snuggles into his bed and goes to sleep until the spring.

The Hedgehog's eyesight does not appear to be very good, but this is made up to him by a very acute sense of smell. He hunts along the hedgebottoms and the sides of ditches, and in some localities he is frequently to be seen in such situations. But we have met with signs of his presence high up on the moors where he finds dense cover among the heather and bilberry. His common diet of snails and beetles is varied by the eggs of the robin and meadow pipit, and occasionally he stumbles upon a huge store of food in the shape of a dozen or more eggs of pheasant or partridge. By depressing his spines he may even find his way between the bars of a hen-coop, but after eating a great part of the hen he may be too portly to get out, and then falls a victim to the enraged poultry-farmer. He is, of course, too short-legged to accomplish the operation formerly attributed to him—that of milking cows—unless, of course, the cow assented to the robbery and laid down to it. But no evidence has been given in support of the charge, which is of kindred nature to the aspersions of Pliny, Ælian and other of the ancients that it climbed apple and fig trees, gathering and throwing down the fruit, then throwing itself down so that its spines would impale its plunder with which it walked off. One weak point in the story is the fact that the Hedgehog has no use for such fare as apples, and as for the milk—any one inspecting the small gape of his mouth would exonerate him from the charge of getting a cow's dug into it.

He is said to be capable of killing and eating a wild Rabbit; but, of course, although he runs well, he could never catch a Rabbit unless the rodent were wounded. He is also a good swimmer and climber, not only of trees but of rain-pipes and rough walls, especially where these are creeper-clad. In addition to the food mentioned above he takes slugs and worms, mice, rats, lizards, frogs, and snakes—including the Viper to whose poison he is immune. It is certain that it fights with Rats, and Lord Lilford has told how it cleared a garden of them; but the Rat is sometimes the victor and eats the Hedgehog. The Hedgehog on occasion will indulge in a feast of carrion.

Only animals that are very hungry will attack the Hedgehog, and then the young are preferred if available. Gipsies, Foxes, and Badgers appear to be his principal enemies. The Fox is said to have a special and disgusting method of making the Hedgehog unroll when he is on the defensive; and a writer in The Field some years ago stated that when caught by the Badger the Hedgehog utters a pitiful wail, though he will permit himself to be torn to pieces by a terrier without a cry.

The male and female are known respectively as Boar and Sow, to carry out the idea that they are a lesser kind of pig. Though the males are very quarrelsome among themselves, they have the domestic virtue and mate for life. Some time between the end of June and the end of August, the female produces a litter of four to seven blind and helpless young, sparsely clad with pale, flexible spines, and the ears drooping. The spines gradually stiffen and become first dull grey, then brown and ringed with three bands, of which the middle one is dark and the others light. The spines are arranged in radiating groups, surrounded by coarse harsh fur. Normally, these spines lie flat upon the body, but can be erected at will. They cover the entire upper surface with the exception of the short conical head and stumpy little tail—which is shorter even than the short rounded ear. The head and underside are clothed with harsh fur of a dirty brown or dirty white colour. In Devon and Cornwall it is known as Furze-a-boar. It expresses its feelings by means of a quiet grunt; the youngsters by a squeak.

The adult male Hedgehog is about nine and a quarter inches in measurement of head and body, and the tail is a little over an inch; the female is less than the male by about three-quarters of an inch. In relation to its entire bulk—it weighs one and a half pounds—the neck and body are said to be shorter than in any other British mammal. The eyes are bright and prominent. The legs are so short that the body but little more than clears the ground in walking. Both hand and foot has five clawed toes, and five pads on the sole.

The sharply pointed spines are about three-quarters of an inch in length. They are quite hard, and have from twenty-two to twenty-four longitudinal grooves. They have a hemispherical base above which is a narrow neck sharply bent, so that the spine is almost at right angles with the base.

When attacked the Hedgehog has the skunk-like habit of emitting a highly objectionable odour in order to disgust its assailant. We have never tried Hedgehog-meat as food, but several well-known men have testified to its excellence when cooked gipsy-fashion—in a crust of clay.

The dentition of the Hedgehog is i 3/2, c 1/1, pm 3/2, m 3/3 = 36.

With the Hedgehog we make our acquaintance with the order Insectivora, which is represented in Britain by five species only: the others being the Mole and three Shrews. In many respects they are similar to the Rodentia, but the incisor teeth have not the chisel-shape of the latter, and the molar teeth instead of having grinding crowns have them developed into pointed eminences more suited for piercing the chitinous armour of beetles, etc. The skeleton is furnished with clavicles or collar-bones. There are five toes on each of the feet, furnished with claws, and the animal walks on its soles. Our native species represent three distinct families: ErinacidÆ (Hedgehog), TalpidÆ (Mole), and SoricidÆ (Shrews).

Mole (Talpa europÆa, Linn.).

However slight may be their personal acquaintance with the Mole himself, his engineering work is only too evident to every possessor of a garden. He may, perchance, live in a neighbour's land, but from time to time we shall find some morning that he has driven a tunnel right across the lawn or the tennis-court, marring its hitherto fair surface with an ugly ridge and at intervals a little heap of raw earth. If we are sufficiently self-controlled to dissemble our inward rage, we may get some countervailing good out of the calamity. If we bring a garden chair and sit quietly within range of the newest heap, our quiet watching may be rewarded by a sight of the clever little engineer, and we may be restrained from throwing stones at him by the thought that he is seeking to reduce the number of those worm-casts on the lawn that have always annoyed us so.

If the tunnelling work is not yet completed, we shall see a heaving of the fresh heap of soil, and after a short interval the sharp, black snout of the Mole will be pushed up from the centre to sniff the air and ascertain if it is safe for him to make a fuller appearance. Satisfied that it is so, he exhibits his shoulders and the broad shovel-shaped hands with which he has accomplished all this navigator's work. Now he is right out, even to his ridiculous little tail, and so to speak swimming over the turf—for he cannot walk on his forefeet, the hands being set sideways for his shovelling work.

Why has he come up? We can only surmise that he is satiated with the luscious earthworms and beetle grubs that live under our lawn, and is looking around for some more substantial fare—a dead bird or mouse, perhaps, for he is by no means averse from picking bones for a change, though his structure makes it impossible for him to catch any of the vertebrates alive, but he can kill and eat a smaller or weaker Mole, and has been reported to attack birds, lizards, frogs, and snakes; he will not touch vegetable food. His appetite is almost insatiable, and there is little substance in his underground fare, which impels him ever to increase his sources of supply by boring fresh runs. There! your movement alarmed him, and he has dived to earth again in the soft mould of the border.

It is not only in the garden that we may see the Mole and his work. He is perhaps more active in the meadow and the cornfield, where he has a wider range for his long straight main run and the side runs that branch off from it. In either of these places he is actually much more of a nuisance than in our garden—difficult though it may be for the garden-owner to realise this. When the hay or the wheat has to be reaped the lines of hillocks across the field are an impediment to the reaping machines. So the farmer has to set traps to minimise the nuisance as much as possible. When these are of the bent hazel rod and noose variety we may find the trapped Mole swinging from the rod that has straightened itself, and can then indulge in a close inspection of his form and structure. In pasture-land the mole-hills often appear to occupy more space than the intervening surface.

The velvet-clad body is cylindrical, with the forelimbs set well forward opposite the short neck. The long muzzle is blunt-pointed and terminated by the nostrils, which are close together. His eyes are mere points that have to be searched for among the close fur, and the same applies to the ears which have no external shell. Shakespeare, who thought the Mole sightless, was aware of his acute sense of hearing—

The flexible snout is adapted for turning up the earth after the immense hands with their large, strong nails have loosened it. They are wide-open hands that cannot be closed and the palms always face outwards. The hairs constituting the velvety fur are all set vertically, so that they will lie forwards or backwards or to either side; and the colour appears to change according to our point of view—two persons viewing the same Mole can describe it correctly as black and as grey. It is really a dark grey.

The teeth should be examined. In the upper jaw there are six incisors of equal size—three on each side—two comparatively large canines of triangular shape and flattened from the sides, eight little premolars and six molars. In the lower jaw the dentition is somewhat puzzling, as the canines are similar to the incisors and the first premolar is developed into a suitable mate for the upper canine. These are not teeth designed for gnawing like those of the Rat and Rabbit; they are for biting insects and other small creatures, and agree in general with those of the Shrews. The formula stands thus:

i 3/3, c 1/1, p 4/4, m 3/3 = 44. The adult Mole is a slave to his appetite, and if kept without food for only a few hours he dies of starvation. Knowing this, the old writers averred that he kept a store of bitten worms so that he might draw upon it on emergency; but this statement has never been substantiated by careful observers.

Every one is familiar with the diagrams of what was styled fancifully the Mole's Fortress, as though it were a stronghold held by force against an enemy. There is really no more reason for calling it a fortress than for applying the same term to a Rabbit's burrow or a bird's nest. The idea upon which the originators of the fortress story worked was that the molehill was a place of intricate passages where the invader could be given the slip: Le Court, the French inventor of the term, whose account was published by Antoine Cadet de Vaux in 1803, described its interior as having a central chamber surrounded by two galleries, one above, the other below, connected by five nearly equidistant passages. From the upper and smaller gallery three similar passages gave access to the central hall, at the bottom of which was a bolt-hole communicating with the main run. Plans and elevations, as an architect would describe them, were made of these details, and for a hundred years every writer on the Mole reproduced these illustrations without doubting their absolute accuracy. It was so much more easy to accept them than to patiently explore and accurately draw the actual structure. Of course, what these writers described as a fortress must not be confused with the "mole-heaves" or "tumps" thrown up at frequent intervals to get rid of the earth from a newly excavated run. These are only a few inches in height. The home of the Mole—the molehill proper—is about a foot high and about three feet broad in any direction. This, as a rule, will be found partly sheltered by a bush, sometimes well out in a pasture, and always on the line of the Mole's high-road, which lies deeper than the newer side runs he is always excavating for hunting purposes. These are but little below the surface, in the richer soil where there are more worms and grubs and where the dug-out earth is easily pushed up to the surface by the pressure of his head.

Moral writers used to commiserate the poor blind Mole for having to expend its energies in ceaseless toil in the dark underground, and then rhapsodise on its marvellous adaptation to its rÔle in nature, getting lost in admiration of the mathematical skill displayed in the construction of the "fortress" they had never seen and which was largely an imaginative piece of engineering. It is true that its body may be said to fit the tunnels it has excavated, though it might be more accurate to say that the tunnels are modelled upon and by the Mole's form, for it is the constant passage of the animal backwards and forwards that smooths and consolidates their walls. The sense of sight is of less importance to it than that of smell, which is apparently its most highly-developed sense, though that of hearing is very acute.

Although the eyes are complete in the sense that eyeballs and lenses are present, they are so small and so completely surrounded by fur that it does not appear that the Mole can get any great advantage from their possession, even when he is above ground. The diameter of the eyeball is one millimetre—that is, considerably less than the head of a "short white" pin!

At the end of the last century, my friend Mr. Lionel E. Adams set himself the task of providing some more reliable information as to the life-story and habits of the Mole, and in four years of research did not hesitate in the interests of science to break in upon the digger's privacy in order to explore his so-called "fortress," and the nursery of Mrs. Mole. He was not content with cutting sections of two or three of these erections; he examined three hundred of them, finding a considerable variation in their arrangements, but not one of them was like the familiar drawings in the books of Thomas Bell and J. G. Wood, copied from French authors.

Mr. Adams experienced great difficulty in making these observations owing to the nature of the subject, but he persevered and made plans of sections from a hundred of the three hundred hills he explored, and found that no two plans were alike. Some were very simple, others exceedingly complicated, "but," he says, "in no case have I found one to tally exactly with the time-honoured figure originating from Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, elaborated by Blasius, and copied from him by every succeeding writer, apparently without the slightest attempt at verification."

But even in those cases where there is some approach to the plan of the old diagram, Mr. Adams found that it was clearly not due to any scheme for constructing a baffling system of bolt-runs for defensive purposes, but purely incidental to the work of excavating the nest cavity and getting rid of the material dug out. The easiest way to dispose of this redundant earth is to push it to the surface, and to do this a tunnel has to be made above the nest cavity. This, as a rule, is originally only from two to six inches below the surface, but the hoisting out of the surplus earth causes the formation of a solid dome of considerable thickness above it. The tunnels thus made to get rid of earth usually end in blind terminals, and would not be available for escape in the case, say, of the "fortress" being entered by a Weasel. It is notable that in the only one of Mr. Adams' plans that approaches nearly to the old figure there is no connection between the "galleries" and the nest cavity.

In some soils (like the Bunter Sandstone) Adams found that stones of four ounces are turned out—that is, equal to the average weight of an adult Mole. He also found that "the softer the soil, as a rule, the nearer are the runs to the surface."

In his work "De la Taupe," de Vaux says: "The Mole places his habitation in the most favourable spot in his cantonment; he studies everything, and never does he make a mistake except under circumstances which he has been unable to foresee, such as continuance of rains, a flood; then he makes up his mind promptly, and establishes himself elsewhere. It is by preference that he places his fortress in the foundation of a wall, under a hedge, at the foot of a tree."

Upon this Adams has the following comment:—

"With regard to a deliberate choice of 'the most favourable spot' after a survey of the cantonment by a practically blind animal of the Mole's impatient disposition and subterranean habits, there can be no question as to its absurdity."

The male and female (Boar and Sow) appear to associate only temporarily, the female being polyandrous and constructing her own nest-hill, which is smaller and of more simple plan than the male's winter retreat and seldom has a bolt-run. Her hunting tunnels are winding as compared with the long straight runs of the male. The nest is a ball of leaves and grass, all having to be carried in by the mouth. The chief pairing season is at the end of March and beginning of April, and the young are born about six weeks later. The number of young in a litter varies from two to seven, the average is three or four. They are blind, naked and pink, but before the fur has begun to appear the skin has darkened to a bluish slate-colour. The eyes open about the twenty-second day.

The Mole does not appear to be definitely hunted by any enemy—save man!—although killed by Weasels, Herons, Owls, Fox, and Badger when they come across him. Adams thinks that for all practical purposes the Mole may be considered blind; that if its eyes were not covered by fur the low position of its head would prevent it seeing beyond an inch or so. He is convinced that worms are hunted by scent. The Mole is an excellent swimmer, and can attain to a similar speed in the water to that of the Water Vole. The Mole does not hibernate: the demands of his appetite appear to preclude the possibility of a long fast, even if dormant.

Old names, still extant in some districts, are Moldwarp, Moudiewarp, Wunt, Want (in the "Epinal Glossary" of about A.D. 700, spelled Wand). Its feet, carried in the pocket, are a rustic specific for rheumatism.

Though Adams refrained from eating adult Mole, warned as he tells us by the dark flesh and musky odour, he experimented with a couple of milk-fed young, ten days old, and had them boiled. Eaten without salt or other condiment, he says he "found them excellent, much like Rabbit, the flesh being white and very tender."

The Mole's position in human regard has always been equivocal. The gamekeeper has accused him of sucking partridge's eggs, and the farmer has pointed to his young wheat plants turned out of the ground as the Mole ran a surface furrow across the cornfield. Against this in former days the farmer would credit him with the wholesale destruction of earthworms; nowadays, however, the farmer has more enlightened views on the subject of earthworms, and their destruction must go into the debit side of the account. But the Mole does not live on worms alone, though chiefly: his runs must cross the track of many a grub—wireworm, leather-jacket, and fat cockchafer-grub, for examples, and slugs and snails on the surface—that the farmer would gladly have removed; and it is not likely that the Mole pushes such fare from him untasted. Then, again, one must remember the agricultural value of the little black engineer who carries out so efficient a system of surface drainage, and improves the pasture by bringing to the surface fresh soil from below. There is, however, no mercy shown, no redeeming virtue admitted, in the case of the Mole who sins against society by running his tunnels under the tennis-lawn or golf-green, and spoiling their levels by thrusting up his unsightly rubbish heaps. So enormous numbers are killed yearly; and the Mole-catcher boasts of his great annual catches. But the astute Mole-catcher refrains from destroying the nests, for were he to do so his occupation would be gone. The Mole squeaks much like a Bat or Shrew.

The Mole appears to be plentiful in all parts of England, Wales and Scotland, wherever there are earthworms; it has been found even at an elevation of 2,700 feet. But it does not occur in Ireland, the Shetlands, Orkneys, Outer Hebrides, or the Isle of Man.

Colour variations have been recorded including cream, orange-pink, whitish with markings nearly black, orange or yellowish, as well as wholly grey, fawn or ash-coloured.

Common Shrew (Sorex araneus, Linn.).

Along the hedgebank, the ditchside and the edge of the spinney in the evening, may be seen one of the smallest and prettiest of our mammals, a minute dusky red-brown creature with long flexible pointed snout turned up ever and anon to reach an insect on the grass stems. Although he has bright bead-like eyes his range of vision is very short, and if we keep quiet and undemonstrative we can watch him without his being aware of our presence.

This is the Common Shrew or Shrew-mouse, an inoffensive and useful creature, for its food is restricted to insects, snails, woodlice and the other small fry that annoy man without the latter being able to do much in retaliation. As he sits there among the long-stalked trefoils and nodding flowers of the wood-sorrel we are able to get a good view of him.

With a combined length of head and body amounting only to three inches, his long hairy tail adds nearly half as much again—but the tail length varies a good deal in different individuals. His bilobed snout extends far beyond his mouth, and is well furnished with whiskers. His hind foot—a distinguishing feature in the Shrews—measures just over half an inch. He is clad in a coat of soft, close, silky fur whose dark upper part pales to dirty yellowish-grey beneath, and his hairy feet and tail are flesh-coloured. The dark coloration may vary to almost or entirely black. The hairs on the tail are short and stiff, almost like little spines. A gland on each flank, midway between elbow and thigh, provides the disagreeable musky odour which is its sole protection against enemies.

In winter he spends his time in hedgebottoms and copses among the dead leaves, but not in sleep as stated often. In summer he moves out into the fields and rough pastures, where there are tufts of coarse grass in which he can take cover, and from which he makes runs through the surrounding grass. Here he may be seen at times actually climbing the stout grass stems after insects; sometimes he climbs a tree. His toes are well separated, and this enables him to climb. Although the feet are not well formed for digging he can burrow expeditiously in light vegetable soil with the forefeet, and can bury himself in twelve seconds; but, as a rule, he is more inclined to utilise the common underground runs of Mice where these are available. The long, attenuated and sensitive snout, like those of the Pig and Hedgehog, are well adapted for turning over dead leaves and the surface soil in its search for insects, worms, and snails; and its short, soft, velvety fur fits it for passage through the soil without getting dirty. His movements are not nearly so rapid as those of the Mice, and it is consequently a better subject for observation. It is by no means an unusual sight to see it swimming, and in accordance with this semi-aquatic habit, it frequently makes its nest on the banks of ditches. The nursery is a cup-shaped nest woven of dry grass and other herbage with a loose roof beneath which the Shrew makes its entrances and exits. These are frequently uncovered by the mowers at haying time. The breeding season extends from May to November, and during this period each female appears to have several litters, each consisting of from four to eight or even ten—but usually five, six, or seven—young, although she has only six nipples. Putting it at three litters of six as an average—eighteen in a season—we get an enormous possible increase of Shrew population. Yet the numbers observable from year to year are fairly constant; and in considering the high birth-rate we have to allow for the heavy bill of mortality. Though Shrew-flesh is not to the taste of all carnivorous creatures, and its musky odour makes it actually repellent to some, this does not in all cases protect the Shrew from death. Cats, for example, kill many Shrews, but will not eat one. Dogs also account for many Shrews, and will sometimes essay them as food, though their stomachs refuse to deal with the unpleasant musky morsel.

From the latter part of summer onwards dead Shrews are quite common objects of the countryside; and various theories have been set up to explain the phenomenon, for these dead bodies are mostly without any signs of maltreatment, either by tooth or claw. It has even been attributed to an autumn epidemic afflicting Shrews alone; and to the influence of fear caused by a thunder-clap or the mere breaking of a twig near by. But apart from this mysterious mortality, Owls levy a heavy toll upon the Shrew, as is evident from the indigestible "casts" thrown up by these birds. Other birds of prey, such as the Kestrel, are known to take their share, and a further considerable number are claimed by Magpies, Jackdaws, Stoats, Vipers, and Smooth Snakes. Then, again, numerous males fall victims to the jealous fury of their own sex, which leads to fierce and fatal battles. But, as already stated, there are seldom any indications of such encounters on the bodies of these autumn dead, and the only conclusion that appears tenable is that they have died from what a coroner's jury would term "natural causes." Mr. Lionel Adams, who has made special investigations into this matter, suggests that the natural cause is senile decay. He points out that young Shrews moult before winter, the process beginning in September and being completed by November, getting a darker and thicker coat than the light brown one they have worn hitherto. The progress of the change can be watched. It begins on the lower part of the back and extends gradually to the neck, head and face. In spring this darker coat is exchanged for a shorter and lighter one. But in their second autumn there is no resumption of the winter garb! The natural span of a Shrew's life is fourteen months as the maximum; and Nature does not go to the expense of winter clothing for creatures that will not live to wear it.

So small a body as that of the Shrew does not appear to require much food to keep it going; but the character of the food counts, and apparently insects are not very sustaining. The insect-eater must pursue his prey almost incessantly. We have proofs of this in the ceaseless activity of insectivorous birds, the Mole, the Bats, and the Hedgehog—all insectivorous. Mr. Adams found that, in captivity, a Shrew would gorge for half an hour, then have to sleep for a similar period before renewing its feeding with the same energy. In this case the food was all provided and had not to be chased; and the Shrew was willing to eat the flesh and pick the bones of one of its own kind. In thirty-six hours it consumed food of various kinds equal to nearly four times its own weight. If food is not obtainable for a few hours, the Shrew dies. This excessive demand of the stomach causes the Shrew to be active both night and day. It is fond of carrion, and has frequently fallen a victim to traps baited with bread, cheese, nuts or apple; and, as Mr. Pocock reports, with plum-pudding. He sleeps with the long flexible snout tucked between the forelegs under the chest.

The Shrew's dental formula is i 4/2, c 1/0, p 2/1, m 3/3 = 32. The summits of the teeth are red-brown, and the almost horizontal lower incisors are encircled by those of the upper jaw.

The Common Shrew is found throughout Great Britain but not in Ireland. Its vertical range is from sea-level certainly to 1500 feet, at which height it has been found in Cheshire by Coward and Oldham. It probably goes higher in our mountain regions, for on the Continent it has been recorded at 6000 feet. It is active all the winter among the dead leaves in some thick hedgerow, where it searches for hibernating insects which are plentiful in such covers. The rambler at this season may have his attention called to the Shrew by its shrill squeak, but like that of the Bats it does not impress all ears.

A form found in the Isle of Islay has been separated as a distinct species under the name of Sorex granti.

It is strange that so inoffensive a creature should have been the subject of superstitious malignity in the past. It was reputed to cause lameness by merely running over the foot of man or beast, and as an antidote a Shrew was plugged into a hole bored in an ash tree from which thereafter a twig passed over the afflicted part would effect a cure. Readers of Gilbert White will remember his description of the Shrew-ash that formerly stood "at the south corner of the plestor" at Selborne. The evil reputation of the Shrew was much more ancient than White's day, for the Rev. Edward Topsell, who wrote a "Historie of Four-footed Beastes" (1607), says of it—"It is a ravening beast, feigning itself gentle and tame, but, being touched, it biteth deep and poysoneth deadly. It beareth a cruel minde, desiring to hurt anything, neither is there any creature that it loveth, or it loveth him, because it is feared of all."

Lesser Shrew (Sorex minutus, Linn.).

The Lesser or Pigmy Shrew is the smallest of all British mammals. It may be described roughly as a smaller edition of the Common Shrew, and until recent years was considered to be only the juvenile form of that species, for which, no doubt, it is still mistaken frequently. It appears to be widely distributed in Britain, but is local, the areas in which it occurs being limited and patchy when marked on the map. These are mostly in wooded districts, but extend from sea-level to the tops of our highest mountains, for it has been found on Ben Nevis at a height of 4,400 feet. In Ireland, from which the Common Shrew is entirely absent, its place is taken by the Lesser Shrew, though it is not nearly so abundant as the Common Shrew is in Britain.

Seen side by side these two species are sufficiently distinct, but apart they may be taken as identical. The earlier British naturalists had not learned to discriminate one from the other, and even Bell, as late as 1837, does not mention the Lesser Shrew, though in the second edition of his work (1874) it appears in a description by Alston. If we take average length of head and body in an adult Common Shrew as three inches, we shall find that a similar individual of the Lesser Shrew measures only two inches and a quarter—a reduction of 25 per cent. The hind foot without the claws in the Common Shrew is half an inch, but in the Lesser Shrew it is one-sixth less. The actual length of the tail is about the same in both species, but proportionately there is a difference, for whilst that of the Common Shrew only equals half the length of head and body, in the Lesser Shrew it is equal to two-thirds. But it has been held that the length of the hind feet alone is distinctive, and that "any Shrew in which these reach or exceed 12 millimetres may be set down as of the larger species."

The colour of the fur is the brown and white of the common species with a fairly sharp line of demarcation between them. Though the animal as a whole is more delicately built, the snout is relatively longer and thicker; the tail also thicker and more hairy; the forearm and hand are shorter. The sensitive snout appears to be more useful than its eyes in hunting. As the result of his experiments, Adams is of opinion that the sight of Shrews is not much—if at all—better than that of the Mole. Yet it must hunt incessantly for, owing to its rapid digestion, frequent meals are a necessity. It is so delicately organised that it has been found that detention in a trap for only a few minutes is fatal to it; and captured specimens that have been carried in the hand for a few hundred yards have died shortly after.

It is an excellent climber, and sometimes enters the upper windows of houses. It is more nocturnal in its habits than the Common Shrew; but is subject to the same autumnal mortality. It does not appear to construct burrows, but utilises those of Mice. Its nests have been found in various situations, such as a clump of rushes, a hollow tree stump or a hollow in the ground roofed by a stone; and they have been of different materials according with the local conditions, moss, dry grass, fine rush shreds and wood chips variously combined and interwoven to form a hollow ball.

There are probably two litters of from two to eight young, born between May and September.

Water Shrew (Neomys fodiens, Schreber).

The Water Shrew is our largest species, the length of head and body combined varying from three to three and three-quarter inches, the body of bulkier build than that of the Common Shrew, and the tail longer than the body. Its upper parts are dark-coloured—from slaty black to dark brown—and the light ashy grey or dirty white of the under parts appear pure white by contrast. The snout is shorter and broader than that of the Common Shrew; the small eyes are blue, and the ears, which are entirely concealed, bear a tuft of white hairs. The brown feet are broader and the digits are bordered with stiff hairs which make them more efficient as paddles; and the tapering flattened tail of the adult has a double fringe of strong silver-grey hairs along its underside, constituting a "keel" and making it more efficient as a rudder. The hind foot usually exceeds three-quarters of an inch. The fur is finer and thicker than in the other British Shrews; and the upper and lower colour areas are sharply separated one from the other. Its aquatic habits have in some districts caused it to be known as Otter-Shrew. The tail is brown above and lighter below. Variation to full black is frequent, and albinos have been recorded.

The teeth have coloured tips like those of the other Shrews, but the points of the incisors are more hooked than in the two species of Sorex; moreover, there are two teeth less, the dental formula standing thus:—i 3/1, c 1/1, p 2/1, m 3/3 = 30. It is these differences in the teeth that has led to the Water Shrew being placed in a separate genus.

In wandering quietly along the streamside we may perchance see the Water Shrew sunning itself on a mossy stone by the margin of the water, for it is active by day as well as by night. We may see it make a sudden plunge into the stream, and present a beautiful appearance under water, for the fur carries a good deal of air entangled in it which gives the submerged body a silvery appearance. It chases the whirligig beetles and water-gnats on the surface, or routs at the bottom for caddisworms and other larvÆ. Its haunts may often be detected by the little heaps of caddis cases on the bank, which it has brought ashore and emptied of their living contents. It eats other aquatic animals, such as snails, worms, small crustaceans, frogs, and small fishes; is not averse from a little carrion, and has been caught in a trap that was baited with cheese. It utters a cricket-like chirp not unlike that of the other Shrews.

As he seldom goes more than a couple of yards from the bank, the quiet observer may take full stock of his proceedings, for the limited range of his vision does not permit him to see you. He appears to be very buoyant in the water, swimming with his head slightly above the surface and the body spread out. Though he may walk for a time along the bottom, he never gets his fur wet. At times he makes distinct leaps out of the water, apparently after a flying insect.

His home is a burrow in the bank, and far inside the female lines a chamber with moss and fine roots, or weaves a round nest of grass and leaves where in May or June she brings forth her litter of five to eight minute blind and naked young. These develop rapidly and when they are five or six weeks old they are independent. There is probably a second brood in September. Like the other Shrews the males are great fighters.

He is found sometimes at a considerable distance from the water, apparently seeking a change of diet, or migrating to a more abundant food supply. It does not hibernate, and may be seen in winter pursuing its prey beneath the ice. Its chief enemy is the Owl, whose cast-up pellets frequently contain the skulls of Shrews.

The Water Shrew is much more local in its occurrence than are the other Shrews. With this reservation it may be said to be widely distributed throughout England, Wales, and Scotland; and in Staffordshire and Cheshire has been found at elevations of a thousand feet. It is not found either in Ireland, the Isle of Man, the Outer Hebrides, the Orkneys or Shetlands. In the Fen country it is known as the Blind-mouse.