The Heart of the Wild: Nature Studies from Near and Far

by S. L. Bensusan

Once he happened to chase a rabbit into a fox’s earth, and even to catch a glimpse of the vigilant head and fierce eyes of its owner before he turned and saved himself. On another occasion, while he was watching a rabbit that sat out on a bank close to the hole that sheltered him, and preparing to dart forward in pursuit, his intentions were frustrated by a poaching cat that crept silently up to where the rabbit sat unsuspecting, and carried it away. Any trouble of this kind made the ferret very angry and sent him running wildly in search of a fresh victim. His girth had increased enormously, and his skin was as tight as a drum, but he kept in excellent condition, and seldom failed to kill when he had started in pursuit. Many a time he passed his old home, for in all his wanderings, that took him as far as two miles from the keeper’s cottage, he never forgot its exact position.

Not until he had been a vagabond for nearly three weeks did his luck fail him, and then on a fine Saturday afternoon he was sighted by one of the ploughman’s lads, and having no time to find a burrow or any other hiding-place, he submitted to be picked up. The boy took him home to his father’s cottage, found a sack, and having put some straw into it, threw Hob in after, and tramped over to the keeper. There was nobody in the house, and not liking to meddle with the ferret-hutches, the lad put the bag into the house through a window that chanced to be open. He then closed the shutter and came away. Hob, having been shaken by the fall, waxed specially indignant and industrious, searched the bag diligently, and managed to find a hole. He worked his way through it and started to prospect. He was in the larder, and on a shelf he managed to reach there was a chicken that the keeper had dedicated to Sunday’s dinner. Hob, being ignorant of his master’s intentions—or, perhaps, indifferent to them—made an excellent supper off such parts of the bird as took his fancy, and was discovered midmost his repast. Then his time of liberty came to a sudden end, and the next fortnight was a period of repentance, for he had no more than enough food to keep him alive, and the fine, prosperous contour he had developed in freedom disappeared slowly but surely, leaving him loose-skinned as of yore. When he went into service again, it was as a line-ferret—his master had finished taking risks.

It would be idle to pretend that Hob liked his work in its new form, but to his credit be it said that he never sulked. He worked as hard as ever, though it was inglorious labour to hunt for other ferrets that had killed rabbits and eaten the best part of them, or chased several to an end-hole and were now crowding them up in a corner and trying vainly to kill them. As soon as he stopped he knew he would be pulled out by the hand that controlled the line, and thrown back into basket, bag or box, while spade or pickaxe was requisitioned to break down into the earth. He would resist withdrawal to the uttermost, but the collar round his neck was too tight to be slipped, and he had to come out.

From time to time Hob ran with the jill-ferrets in the clearing round the hutches, and he was the father of several fine litters, but was probably unaware of the fact, for he was totally devoid of domestic instincts. He could not have helped the jill to tend the little ones, nor would he have been content to endure the darkness and seclusion of her home for an hour. It would not have been wise to leave him with young ferrets, even though they were his own children, if it happened to be meal-time and one and all were hungry. They would have been regarded less as kith and kin than as intruders bent upon depriving him of his food.

After a long period of line-work, Hob’s patience was rewarded by a few days’ ratting. Some of the old thatched cottages on the estate were infested by the rats. They swarmed in the walls and under the floors and in the thatch; when the corn was threshed they repaired to the houses, where they were fruitful, and multiplied and replenished the cottages and ate everything save tar, glass and metal. Complaints were made to the bailiff, and half a dozen ferrets visited each cottage in turn. It was a black week in ratland. Flight into the open availed very little, for there were one or two active terriers in the garden; hiding-places did not avail, for there was no hole so small but that a ferret could follow if a rat could lead; and as for fighting, it was no better—the ferret knew how to dodge the sharp teeth and plant his own before the rat could try again. There were no muzzles and no lines to hinder progress, and Hob killed as he had killed in the few weeks when he was a free ferret and all the rabbits in the woodland were at his mercy. To be sure, he received a few bites, so did his fellows, but they did not mind such honourable wounds. When the last rat had been killed, the ferrets were collected and taken home, to be carefully examined and have their wounds dressed and their feet carefully washed in warm water, with which a disinfectant was mixed. This careful treatment saved all trouble, and after a couple of days’ rest the ferrets were quite ready for work.

For more than two years Hob served his master, working so well that many people tried to buy him, and at last an amateur, who knew little about shooting and less about ferrets, made an offer that the old gamekeeper could not resist, and Hob went by rail in a small box to a farm where he was destined to enter upon evil days. In the first place, his hutch was a small one, and though it had a sleeping-apartment as well as a living-room, there was no space for exercise. The straw was not changed regularly, the saucer that held the milk was often left uncleaned, so that the milk turned sour; pieces of rabbit or small birds were thrown in haphazard and promptly conveyed to the sleeping-room by Hob, who knew no better. Within a month of finding his new home the ferret had quite lost the gloss that was on his coat in the old days, and lack of exercise had reduced his vigour. When he went out to work in warren or hedgerow, and came home tired out and with wet feet, he was turned out into his hutch and left to get warm by rolling himself upon straw that was sometimes damp and dirty. The old warm foot-bath that had kept him in such good condition was quite unknown in the new home. In a little while he was ill; his feet suffered from a complaint born of damp and dirt, and he had the kind of fever that results from lack of proper attention. These conditions were noted and, thanks to a little prompt and practical treatment, they were righted, but the real causes of the illness were never removed, because they were not understood, and it was a tradition of the neighbourhood that ferrets are delicate and hard to rear. Indeed, Hob’s new owner was heard to say that the old gamekeeper had sold him a weakly ferret for a long price, and had kept back the one he arranged to buy.

Perhaps the discomfort of his surroundings decided Hob to make his escape from them. Be that as it may, he took the first opportunity after his recovery to remain in an earth from which he had driven a couple of rabbits to the gun. He was free and unmuzzled, and he had no kill by his side; the line-ferret sent down to investigate made no sign. Digging only served to send him further into a perfect labyrinth that should have been dug out or blown up at the end of the previous season, and when sunset made the weary and angry diggers desist from their labours, Hob was free once more. By the following morning he had left the earth a long way behind him, and was sleeping in security by the remains of the rabbit that had yielded him supper and breakfast in one long meal. He could not run about as he did when he first made his escape into the world—lack of exercise and consequent illness had made him weak, nervous and slow in pursuit. If the rabbits had only known they might have escaped from him easily enough, and he must have starved; but he was a ferret, and that fact was sufficient to rob them of the keen edge of their speed. So strength came back to him slowly but surely, his eye recovered its brightness, and his coat its glossy smoothness, and though his feet were often wet and dirty, he could clean himself, because he had plenty of room to turn about.

FERRET [Photo by C. Reid]

Then with increase of strength came the desire to run for very pleasure of exercise, and towards evening the whitey-grey figure might have been seen passing rapidly along the edge of plantations and across open meadow-lands—might have been seen, and was seen, for one night a young farmer, out in search of a rabbit for the table, noticed the movement of the long, lithe body, and knowing nothing of a missing ferret, was certain that he saw a stoat. In a moment his gun was at his shoulder, and a second later Hob’s career was at an end.