HLM -Chapter 1323 The All‑Purpose Killer

The stoat is not native to New Zealand. It was introduced from overseas in the late nineteenth century in an attempt to control the numbers of wild and domestic rabbits.

But no one expected that, after arriving in New Zealand, stoats would completely neglect their “assigned duties.” Instead of wiping out rabbits, they discovered that birds here were far easier to catch.

So they changed their menu—birds first, rabbits only if they happened to come across them.

Long ago, stoats were officially declared a “harmful species” by New Zealand’s Department of Conservation. This introduction is considered a textbook example of ecological failure and is still recorded in New Zealand middle‑school textbooks today.

After reading the information, Wang Bo slapped the desk and said gloomily, “No wonder. The blue ducks and wood pigeons have been on my land for two years now, but their populations never really expanded. I thought possums were the problem and even carried out a possum cull.”

Professor Sandra said, “Possums do threaten these wild birds, but they’re small in size. Species like blue ducks and pukeko can fight back. Stoats are different—if birds try to fight them, they’re basically delivering food to the enemy.”

Stoats are widely distributed across the world; every continent has them. Their adaptability is extremely strong—deserts or forests, grasslands or meadows, swamps or river valleys, high altitudes or plains, farmland or wasteland—you can find their traces everywhere.

Wang Bo called Cousins and asked, “Are there many stoats around the ranch?”

Cousins thought for a moment and replied, “Not many, but if you search carefully, you can always find signs of them. What’s going on, boss?”

“They prey on valuable birds like blue ducks and pukeko,” Wang Bo said. “Professor Sandra suggests we deal with them. Do you have any ideas? I think they’re mainly around the ranch.”

The ranch kept large numbers of chickens, ducks, and geese, whose egg‑laying capacity far exceeded that of wild birds. Eggs were a stoat’s favorite food, so if there were stoats in town, they were almost certainly hiding on the ranch.

Cousins said awkwardly, “That won’t be easy. Stoats are very cunning. When we hunt possums, we can scare them out and kill them, but at the slightest disturbance, stoats’ response is to hide.”

Wang Bo thought for a moment. “I’ll go take a look, then we’ll come up with a plan together.”

Finding stoats couldn’t be done just by searching through grass.

These creatures are extremely clever. They can live in rock crevices, stone piles, tree hollows, stone walls—any gap big enough to hold them, they’ll squeeze into and build a den.

Their diet is very broad: rabbits, possums, insects, lizards. Sometimes they even enter the water to catch fish, but their favorite prey is still birds.

What’s more vicious is that they can climb trees and swim. Whether it’s flying in trees, burrowing on land, or swimming in water—they can catch it all. Most terrifying of all, they hunt both day and night.

When Wang Bo read this, he couldn’t help but marvel. These things were like all‑round warriors of nature. If only they weren’t so small—make them bigger and capable of attacking humans, and they’d be no different from tigers.

Because New Zealand has abundant bird populations and a healthy ecosystem, stoats here love doing “weasel‑like” things—stealing chicks and eggs, or launching nighttime attacks on adult birds.

Stoats in New Zealand are currently recognized as the “number one killer of New Zealand birds,” especially the national bird, the kiwi. No one knows how many kiwis have died at their mouths.

A stoat’s lifespan is slightly shorter than that of a domestic cat. If it survives to adulthood, it can live six to eight years, breeding throughout that time—so its reproductive ability is quite strong.

On the way, Wang Bo opened the sandbox system to search for stoats, but no matter how much he scanned, he found nothing. He poked through the grass with his fingers, startling a few possums, but saw no sign of stoats.

Possums on the ranch had already become much rarer, thanks to the town‑wide possum‑catching campaign he had launched. During that period, possums were captured in the tens of thousands, and he even had to spend extra money just to dispose of the bodies.

When he reached the ranch, Peterson hurried over with a cage in his hand. Inside was a small animal.

It was small in size, with a long, slender body, a short head, and a thin tail. Two pitch‑black eyes darted about alertly. Its short fur was white and yellow, and all four paws were jet black.

Needless to say, it was a stoat.

Wang Bo picked up the cage and examined it carefully. The stoat shrank back, trembling slightly, looking pitiful.

Seeing this, he sighed. “Damn… this thing is actually kind of cute.”

“If you saw them hunting birds, you wouldn’t feel that way,” Peterson said, curling his lips.

Because of the enormous threat stoats pose to New Zealand birds, the Department of Conservation has spared no effort to control their numbers. In all kinds of publicity, stoats are labeled environmental killers and natural enemies of birds. New Zealanders are educated this way from childhood and thus deeply detest stoats.

Wang Bo asked, “How did you catch this one?”

“I set a trap. I noticed signs of stoats around the chicken farm a long time ago, so I placed traps there and caught several. This little pitiful thing was caught last night.”

Wang Bo considered it carefully and said, “How hard would it be to wipe them out? Should we launch another town‑wide stoat‑catching campaign?”

Peterson quickly waved his hands. “No, no, no—that won’t work. Stoats must be caught using physical trapping methods. If everyone starts catching them, that means everyone will set traps. Then traps will be everywhere in town, and since we can’t control how lethal those traps are, it would greatly increase danger.”

That was true. Sunset Town had tourists in many corners. If someone set a trap and a tourist stepped into it, that would be serious trouble.

“Why don’t we call or email the Department of Conservation and tell them we’ve discovered stoats in town? They’ll send people to deal with it,” Professor Sandra suggested.

Peterson nodded as well. “That’s the simplest approach.”

Cousins, an anarchist at heart, curled his lips. “Rely on the government? With their efficiency, by the time they finish catching stoats, our birds will probably already be eaten. Besides, how could they ever catch all of them?”

“I don’t think so,” Professor Sandra said. “Our town has large numbers of rare birds and insects. Don’t forget, giant wētā are also prey for stoats. They’ll definitely come to deal with it.”

Sunset Town was now a natural conservation area for giant wētā. Thanks to the high nutritional value of the pasture grass, giant wētā had successfully reproduced in the ranch, and their presence in turn improved pasture quality—a virtuous cycle.

Wang Bo raised his hand to stop the argument and said, “Stoats aren’t as out of control as possums, right?”

“That’s right. But if we don’t deal with them, they’ll eventually get out of hand.”

Wang Bo nodded. “Alright. Leave this to me. I’ve got a plan.”