hom he is always watching. In summer there are hawks and
eagles, foxes and coyotes. In winter his feathered foes depart, but
the foxes remain, as do the weasels. Sitting motionless in the midst
of jumbled rocks I have faded into the bowlder fields, and thus have
been able to watch the cony and his enemies. Usually his "squee-ek"
announced the appearance of a foe before I discovered it. Then, if the
enemy was a bird or a beast, he merely hugged the rock, watching
alertly until he was discovered, then flipped out of sight to the
safety of rocky retreat, giving a defiant "squee-ek" as he went. But
if a weasel appeared...

I sat watching a cony one day in early fall as he lay in the sunshine
upon a bowlder. From somewhere below us came the distant "squee-ek" of
a relative, followed shortly by the shrill whistle of a marmot. The
cony sat up suddenly, awake and alertly watching. The signals were
repeated. Instantly the little fellow departed from his outpost and
hurried away, circling the bowlder, leaping to another, disappearing in
the rocks and reappearing again. His actions were so unusual that I
wondered what message the signals had carried; to me they were no
different than they were when they announced my coming--yet the
difference must have been plain to the wee furry ears, judging from
their owner's apprehensive actions. Indeed, a weasel was abroad
seeking his quarry. When his presence was announced, neither the cony
nor I could see him because of an intervening upthrust of rock.

Soon the weasel appeared, circling the rock where the cony had been
sunning himself, searching beneath it, hurrying along the tunnels
through which the cony had fled. Emerging upon the bowlder, he paused
for a few seconds as he looked in all directions. The weasel was
brownish-yellow in color. I was to learn later that he changed to pure
white in winter.

I sprang to my feet and pursued him, shouting as I ran, throwing rocks
and attempting to scare him off. Losing track of both pursuer and
pursued, I stopped for breath. Suddenly, from almost beneath my feet,
the agile villain reappeared, staring at me with bright, bold eyes,
advancing toward me as though to attack. He was no coward; with
amazing agility he dodged a rock I threw at him, turning a back-spring
and landing at my feet. For a moment we glared at each other, then he
made off as though utterly unconscious of my presence.

I watched the long slender body disap