In case you’ve been living under a rock, on a deserted island in the South Pacific, outer space, or have just awoken from a 85-year coma, you’ve probably read once or twice that Sweden is a great place to study. And it is. Most of the time.
But not everything in Sweden is so peachy. Allow me to introduce Subject A: the wildlife.
I’m thinking of the most evil thing earth:
- It’s a small animal about 30 centimeters long, and has the texture and appearance of a moldy hot dog.
- It smells worse than a garbage dump, rotten eggs, and the Crazy Cat Lady put together.
- It has a temper shorter than French footballers.
The ermine, or Mustela Erminea, is a small weasel-like creature native to Sweden known for its vicious temper. Photo: Steve Hillebrand, USFWS
Almost every college anywhere, no matter how large the football booster club may or may not be, has its fair share of campus myths. At the University of Oregon, Sasquatch can supposedly sometimes be seen along the edge of campus. At Boise State, an albino peacock is rumored to sometimes show itself, while the Communications Building is said to be haunted by the ghost of a former student. And at Linnaeus University in Växjö, a wild ermine is believed to lurk in the surrounding forest, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting students and visitors.
I personally can attest to the existence of said ermine. But how, you may ask? Simple: because I’ve been attacked by it. Twice.
Honestly, the first time it happened, I might have deserved it. I was walking with a friend last Fall in the woods around Teleborgs Slott, the castle located on Linnaeus’ campus, when I noticed what looked like a bird’s nest just off the paved path. Curious, I went over to investigate.
Wham!
Something shot out from nowhere and bit my shoe. I kicked out, and my assailant was flung into the bushes, where it quickly scampered away and out of sight. I didn’t bother to follow it.
Fancy footwork is key to avoiding a charging ermine. Photo: Danica Sahne
But if the first time was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, then the second time definitely qualifies as malicious intent. I was jogging near the same area about a week later, and this time it honed in on me like a dart, snapping at my ankle from behind without any provocation whatsoever. I cried out, shocked that I’d just had a once-in-a-lifetime experience for the second time in less than two weeks, and kicked the pint-sized terror off of me. As it hopped away (really, that’s the only way one can accurately describe how an ermine moves), its foul stench lingered in the frosty morning air, mocking me like Italy’s Raphael Gualazzi after stealing second place from Sweden and Eric Saade at this year’s Eurovision.
Now I usually consider myself an animal lover – it’s inevitable when you grow up on a farm and your family still owns horses – but this just might be an exception. Really, I don’t know what I did to get on its bad side, but for some reason the thing seems to have taken a genuine disliking to me.
Up until now, I haven’t really dealt with any anti-American sentiment, but I swear this bizarre cousin of the weasel family has something against me.
But the trouble is, I can’t really tell my parents about the problem. How do you think that conversation would go?
ME: Hey, I have a problem.
THEM: What is it?
ME: Someone here doesn’t like me because I’m an American.
THEM: Oh no! We’re getting you a ticket for the next flight back! Just stay safe!
I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have to end my studies early because of a weasel that weighs less than three kilos.
The area near Teleborgs Slott where an ermine is said to lurk on Linnaeus University's campus. Photo: Ben Mack
Really, having an ermine – also known as a stoat – as your apparent arch-nemesis can be rather frightening. Not only can it be physically dangerous, but it can be a career-killer, too.
When I was first attacked, I reported that my assailant had been a ferret, a creature many Swedes own as pets and looks almost exactly like an ermine. However, while visiting my family over Christmas, I discovered the horrible truth in a Portland, Ore. used bookstore, and was forced to write a public apology to all ferrets, everywhere.
It’s a good thing I did – who knows if a ferret (or a ferret owner) would’ve sued me? Disaster averted.
Should you encounter an ermine, hurtling objects such as tea bags may help deter it. Photo: Danica Sahne
But don’t let the wildlife deter you from going abroad. While ermines may be about as ferocious as a wolverine, they usually won’t mess with you unless you mess with them – or if you happen to be me.
Other wild animals in Sweden – moose, ducks, rabbits, etc. – are not usually known to attack humans. But their mere presence is just another sign that Swedes tend to be much closer to nature than, say, your average Bostonian or even Seattleite. It’s a nice change from the rattlesnakes, scorpions, and coyotes I’m used to seeing back in Idaho. And I’ll even grudgingly admit that ermines are nice to look at too – provided they’re behind at least a meter of glass.
Obstacles, then, are meant to be overcome. Managing your money, making new friends, learning a new language, adjusting to life overseas, assuring Aunt Fanny you’re not going to freeze to death – if you can handle all that, then you can easily handle wild ermines.
And besides, next time I see that thing, I’m turning it into a fur coat.
