My birthday is December 24th. That’s the day before Christmas. Often people ask me if I feel “gypped” or “short-changed” by my birthday’s proximity to the year’s most gift-laden holiday and the answer is: yes. It’s not so much the gifts that matter to me as the acknowledgement. My birthday always feels like a footnote in the larger holiday atmosphere. However, I have noticed that I tend to get double the amount of greeting cards — one for Christmas and one for my birthday, sometimes in the same envelope, and usually from more distant family and friends. This year I got a particularly interesting one:
According to the back, this is a “least weasel” — it’s seven and a half inches long, weighs little over a pound, and is “one of the world’s greatest predators.” Further research led to the explanation that this means least weasels can take down rabbits 5-10x their body weight and their preferred part of the animal to eat is the brain. The word “weasel” comes from the anglo-saxon “weatsop” meaning “a vicious bloodthirsty animal” — I learned that also. However, it’s not the word “weasel” and its extra-cultural associations I’m interested in as much as it is the preceding word — “least” — which would seem to imply that the least weasel is yes, a weasel, but not as much as other weasels.
Of course, “least weasel” is not its scientific name. Its scientific name, in standard binomial nomenclature, is mustela nivalis — literally “snowy weasel,” descriptive of the white coat it dons in the wintertime. The name “least weasel” is what’s known as a common name, the way “human” is to “homo sapien,” and, as far as my research has informed me, the “least” part of its common name is solely a description of its diminutive size. The least weasel is the smallest member of the weasel family and the smallest predator in North America. Again, though, the word “least” is curious in its implication that there are other, more qualified weasels out there, that the least weasel somehow got the short end of the evolutionary stick. And yet, a study recently found that the least weasel has “ounce for ounce the most powerful jaws of any predator in North America,” thus, in at least this one way, it seems the least weasel might actually be the most weasel.
Further, as you may or may not be aware (I wasn’t), there are other “least” animals out there. There’s a least shrew, a least bittern, a least killifish, and a least tern — and, like the least weasel, they are each very small. Let’s look at them…
This time last week it was 55° and sunny in Chicago and much of the Midwest. Golf courses were still taking tee times, people were out jogging with shorts on, and local animals were fooled into thinking it was still autumn…
This Leopard Frog was spotted by GSC Board Members Steve Jansen and Judy Bock during a trip to the Waukegan Dunes on January 6th. As they noted in an email the frog was “very much alive with a smaller fellow traveler” and its legs “comically slipped on the ice with each attempt to hop.” The temperature outside was 48° F.
The immediate question an observation like this raises is: can such a mild and delayed winter be good for these frogs? Don Wilson, a friend of the GSC who oversees the Great Lakes Amphibian Monitoring Program for Environment Canada, has this to say: “I wonder if these Leopard Frogs will survive the winter. They should be hibernating, living off of fat reserves.”
However, small North American frogs such as the Leopard Frog and the Chorus Frog (the other frog, not pictured) are used to braving cold weather. The Chorus Frog has been known to survive temperatures as low as 18° F. So, while the appearance of frogs in January isn’t yet a major cause for concern, it’s certainly an example of very strange behavior in what has been likewise a very strange winter.
Additional Coverage: The Lake County News-Sun