When stoats were brought to New Zealand in 1884, it sounded like a good idea. It always sounds like a good idea. Killing rabbits with guns is expensive. Why not let tiny bloodthirsty intelligent lightning-fast weasels do it for free? Somebody must have forgotten about the vast numbers of naïve flightless birds, but that's by the by. It's turning out to be a lot more expensive to kill the killing machines. Here, a springloaded killing machine in a box full of eggs and meat on an island of birds. The Secretary Island forest is so soggy, my camera had to peek through a smudgy underwater housing. We've decided too late that stoats are the enemy, the thing in the forest that does not belong. The only predator of the predator, humans are doing what we did to cause this mess all over again; gardening. It's a tall order, pulling weeds that can run. Who do we think we are, calling other animals invasive species?
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