The weasel once had a long and bushy tail. No worse than an ermine. She is, after all, a sister of the ermine, and just as nimble, dexterous and fast. No wonder they say about her: on the top of the head the stake will turn nine times.
And the weasel is also terribly curious: she cares about everything, she needs to smell and touch everything. It is no wonder that, running and jumping through the forest, looking under every bush and into every hole, the weasel somehow fell into a hunting trap.
She caught her tail with a trap - neither here nor there. What to do? And now, you can hear the hunter himself walking, the dead wood underfoot is cracking, the branches nearby are swaying. The weasel twitched - it hurt. And she had no choice but to resort to cunning and pretend to be dead.
The hunter unloaded the trap, put the prey aside and began to set the trap again. Meanwhile, weasel - jump, jump! - and run. However, the hunter was an experienced, seasoned one: before the weasel had time to reach the nearest tree, he stepped on her tail with his foot. The weasel jerked with all its might - its tail was in the place where it had been pinched by the trap, and it came off. Since then it has been so short for her.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru