Perched on my living room couch, I have the feeling I’m being watched. Is it a curious squirrel, or a wise old raven?Ìý No, it’s the terrifyingly cute brown eyes of our neighbourhood pine marten peering through the patio door.
I’ve named him Porthos, after one of the characters in BBC’s The Musketeers–I’ve been binge-watching it on Netflix. In the show, Porthos is the most fearless of the lot, and tactically the most cunning. He’s not afraid of anything, and neither is Porthos the Pine Marten.
I suspect Pine Marten Porthos moved in sometime in late summer 2016. Around then, my leashed cat Oscar started binge-watching a rock pile near our neighbour’s place. Soon after that, Oscar repeatedly exhibited signs of being deeply spooked. He would suddenly and alarmingly hurl his body against the screen door as a way of asking to come inside. Once in the house, he would hide under the bathroom vanity for half an hour.
Like all weasels, Porthos is elusive. But he’s made a few cameos in the past four months. My neighbour shot a photo of him looking charming and suspicious on his back deck, investigating a newly cleaned cooler. Early one morning I saw Porthos systematically running from one front door to another along our creek-side condos. Now he uses the same tracks over and over again to investigate our patio door–evidence he is spying on us (or intimidating the cat), even when we don’t see him.
How do I know it’s Porthos, and not some other pine marten? Rough estimates suggest there may be only two martens in a range one kilometre square. They are also known to vehemently defend their home turf, so the likelihood of different pine martens hanging out in the backyard isn’t very high. Especially if tough boy Porthos is around.
In many ways Porthos has been good for the neighbourhood. There is a noticeable absence of small rodent tracks scattered around our place. Between the cat inside and Porthos outside, not a mouse attempted to nest in the nooks of our walls. I am told, though, you definitely don’t want them to make their way INSIDE the house.
Jasperite Gord Ruddy told me that years ago a pine marten got into a building up at Maligne Lake, where it discovered a windfall of rice crispy squares on the counter. The marten spent a few glorious days eating and pooping marshmallows, butter and processed rice all over the cabin. It took Gord and his brother Russell the better part of a week–and I suspect strong stomachs–to clean up.
Aside from the occasional sharing of human food, though, Porthos and friends prefer the buffet offered up in coniferous forests. In the summer, they eat bird eggs and nestlings, fish and young mammals. In the fall, berries and other fruits are also on the menu. In the winter they eat snowshoe hare, and a smorgasbord of small rodents.
They hunt mice and voles in tunnels these small animals create beneath the snow. Pine martens access this labyrinth where it intersects with the under-snow spaces created by big branches and logs. Pine martens are also as comfortable dangling above the snow as travelling beneath it. They spend a lot of time in trees, hunting squirrels and chipmunks. I haven’t seen our three-legged squirrel around here for some time, and I’m thinking Tripod was no match for a hungry Porthos. Pity, I was really rooting for him.
I could get used to having Porthos around. However the fact that I’m so aware of him is more the exception than the rule for this shy species. Although at times there may seem to be many sightings of pine martens around town–some of them may even seem tame–this is probably a temporary situation. When Porthos is ready, like all good Musketeers he’ll fearless move along to his next station, leaving nothing but his tracks in the snow.
Nikki Wilson Special to the 51°µÍø
