Stone Marten: Why do ordinary chickens in a barn make them psychotic? (9 photos)

A commotion in the chicken coop: screams, the flutter of wings, frightened birds crashing into the wooden walls and each other. Such a commotion would raise even the dead from the grave. It was no surprise that the elderly farmer, waking in the middle of the night, quickly stuffed his feet into his boots, grabbed the double-barreled shotgun dangling by the door, and hurried into the flimsy barn. Moonlight and a flashlight were the only things illuminating the scene, which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.





Bro, your high beams are on!

The floor was littered with upturned hay, fallen feathers, and bird carcasses with their necks unnaturally arched. The chickens remained warm—so warm, it seemed, as if an unknown disease had wiped them out. From the far corner of the barn, the only one plunged into impenetrable darkness, two pale yellow glowing eyes stared at the farmer. Something clung to the ground, crawling along the floor like a snake. The man raised his gun.



Mmm, fresh chicken nuggets!

Bullets cut through the dust-laden air and crashed into the litter, missing their target. The chicken coop was deserted. Only the farmer was completely baffled. A couple of days ago, he'd patched up all the holes in the walls and floor openings to protect his chickens from stray cats and wild foxes. Something had slipped through a crack so narrow that even the chickens couldn't fit their heads through it. What could it be? The animal, slightly smaller than a cat, had a long body, a ruffled tail, and a pointed muzzle. It quickly emerged from the hole, perked up, licked its white chest, matted with blood, and hurried away. The stone marten was unlucky today—it would return to its cubs without prey.





The habitat and food supply of martens and wildcats overlap. This means that if they meet in conditions where prey is scarce, the predators may fight.

The stone marten inhabits practically all of Eurasia. Previously, this animal could be found primarily in the European part of the continent, but from there, its range has expanded eastward at an alarming rate. Why? It's simple: unlike its more forest-oriented relatives, the stone marten doesn't particularly need forests.



I live just fine in the concrete jungle!

The animal easily makes itself at home in abandoned steppe animal burrows, rock crevices, and, most importantly, near humans. An attic, a barn, a stable, even a car—any secluded spot can become a refuge. A marten will get into places you wouldn't think to look. For example, the Hadron Collider. In 2016, two animals disabled a billion-dollar car.



Since 1970, when cars became ubiquitous, people have been regularly finding martens under the hood. The animal chews through wires. Why? It remains a mystery! Scientists speculate that the mischief is caused by young animals just learning about the world.

All thanks to their acrobatic agility and, it seems, ignoring the laws of physics. This animal climbs trees with feline grace and leaps up to 4 meters—a distance 10 times its own body length. A crack as small as 5 cm is enough to get inside. Add to this their absolute fearlessness of humans, and you have the perfect furry burglar!



I didn't see you poop in your slippers, and you didn't see me steal strawberries from the garden. Deal?

The stone marten's main diet is small game: rodents, reptiles, and amphibians. But they're not above a free human treat either. Martens, as they're popularly known, happily devour food scraps and garden harvests. But the most terrifying thing happens when a marten infiltrates a chicken coop. Once inside, a marten is capable of strangling all the animals. Not out of malice or greed, but out of hunting instinct. The sight of panicked chickens, rabbits, and other small animals drives the animal wild: the marten kills as many as it can right then and there. If the predator is more deliberate, you won't even notice its presence. Martens prey not only on poultry but also on eggs: they carefully cut them open and drink the contents. In the morning, all you'll find are empty shells.



Well, the eggnog is cancelled.

Meanwhile, the stone marten mother had already reached her secluded hideout—the engine compartment of an old abandoned car. It was conveniently located near the very edge of the forest, covered in leaves and abandoned. After making sure no fox, dog, or anything larger was following her, the marten climbed inside, where she was already greeted by four adorable brown kittens.



A stone marten litter usually consists of 1-3, rarely 4, cubs.

This wasn't her first litter, but it was the first one this large. The first one was so difficult to feed: like her other relatives, she raised the cubs alone. She met their father only once—in midsummer, last year. Martens have a unique mechanism for frozen pregnancy. After a summer tryst, the eggs are "preserved" and only "revive" in the spring of the following year. The cubs are born a month later. This ensures that the babies are born during the most fertile time of year. But even so, the mother marten will have to spend a considerable amount of time. Until the end of summer, she will feed and teach her brood all the intricacies of predatory life.



"Mom, where's our dad?" "He went to get a chicken and never came back."

Martens live alone—there's no one but their mother to teach them. By autumn, the young will leave their mother in search of their own territory. For an animal smaller than a cat, the white-naped marten's domain is regal—up to 200 hectares! To mark its territory, the marten marks its boundaries with scent: this will repel intruders and attract mates during the mating season. But that will all happen later. For now, the little pups curl up against their mother's belly in a cozy den, snoring quietly in the hope that the next day will bring them a bigger catch.