But let not ingenuous youth think that to enjoy the sport all he has to do is to take a spade and any reputable terrier. He might as well try, like Dame Partington, to stop the rising tide with a mop! Before so serious an enterprise as a badger digging be undertaken, the wise man will see to it that all the materials are ready, and let him be sure that he has the first necessity—the stout heart to go through with a tough job when once started. I have, with my brother, Mr. J. A. Pease, started at 7.30a.m. from home, worked a summer's day with a slight refreshment at one, handled pick and shovel and spade, fought the terriers, and gone on through the afternoon, evening, and a black wet night, without even a drop of water to slake our parched throats, deserted by all but one faithful workman, and on till the grey dawn of another day, which found us as weary, wet, and wounded, and as disreputable a looking company of three men and four terriers as ever survived a bloody action. At five o'clock we secured a splendid pair of badgers, which we bore home on aching backs, followed by our gallant little team of draggled and dirty terriers. On another occasion, it took my brother and myself, some ten labourers and keepers, and nine terriers, from 10 till 5.30 to take an old 30-lb. dog badger, in an earth which had only one hole, and where it was a case of following straight into the hill. It is wonderful what can be done by twelve men with pick, spade, and shovel in seven hours. On this occasion we dug a trench ten feet long into the hill, and then the depth of bearing necessitated our making a drift, or tunnel, which we drove in thirty feet. The heat and want of air inside made the work difficult. Candles would not burn after we had gone about twenty feet, and the tunnel was so low that we had to work on our knees and then on our stomachs. There was a considerable danger from the roof falling in, but the fight waged so fiercely that we thought of little but what was ahead of us. When at last we got within distance of the badger, he was in rocky ground, we could mine no further, and being on a shelf round a corner no terrier could draw him. As I was the smallest of the party, it fell to me to try and reach him, and I crawled up as far as I could, holding a little bull-terrier on whom I could rely for protection for my face, and a pair of short badger tongs. I had indeed a bad quarter of an hour!
It was stifling, cramped, and pitch dark. I kept the terrier in front of my head and gallantly he behaved, though every now and then the badger's charge, or a fierce encounter, nearly smothered me with dust and soil, against which I could not protect myself, as I was powerless to retreat, there being only room to lie flat on the ground. The man behind me was in the same position, tight hold of my ankles, and the man again behind him, and the rest of the force made a human chain, which on a signal from me was to be drawn out to daylight. Many attempts I made when the badger charged to get him with the tongs, but I had so little room to work my hands in that I missed him, and heard and felt the click and snack of his teeth on the iron. At last I felt I had hold of something, and I slipped the guard on the tongs, making the hold sure. I cried "Haul away," holding the terrier with one hand between me and the badger, and the tongs in the other. I found that he came with wonderful ease. It was not till we got to the light that I saw I had the huge bouncing brute by one claw, "Nip" diverting his attention from my head and hands. The labourers set up a shout, "He's got him by the clee," and a minute later we had the satisfaction of bagging him. But we were out only just in time. I had gone back with the terriers to see if there was nothing more in, and hardly had got outside again, when there was a fall from the roof that would, if it had taken place earlier, have buried some of us alive. As it was I looked round to see if we were all there. The men were, but one little terrier, "Pepper," a real treasure belonging to a neighbour of mine in Cleveland, Mr. J. P. Petch, was missing. We went in and found him buried, but got him out alive and little the worse. This was the biggest badger my brother and I ever got.
But these operations are quite surpassed by those M. le Masson related in the following authentic story.
"An extraordinary chasse that lasted without interruption three days and three nights, took place lately in the neighbourhood of St. Omer, on some land in the picturesque commune of Wisques, in a wood attached to the château of Madame la douairière Cauvet de Blanchonval.
"One morning two young sportsmen of St. Omer, MM. Théobald Cauvet and Charles d'Hallewyn, were told by the garde forestier that on his beat he knew of several badgers near the place they call l'Ermitage.
"The little dogs being put on the scent soon found the earths, where they entered, and advanced with so much courage that they never stopped till they had reached the bottom of the earth, where they cornered the badgers, which held their ground in an attitude of the most threatening defence.
"The assailants, thus powerless, made themselves heard by barking and baying incessantly, and with heroic pluck, the little fellows refused to retreat in spite of the repeated calls of their masters.
"Their perseverance being carried to this length, our young gentlemen formed a resolution worthy of their taste for great undertakings and adventures. Labourers were called from the field and commissioned at once to set to work to reach the badgers.
"The attempt was more than bold. The mouths of the set, three in number, were at the foot of a hill, and embraced between them a sort of triangular piece of land at the apex of which the passages all united and formed a single underground gallery. The dogs having each entered by a separate hole made this clear.
"A shaft was sunk in order to start a tunnel at the opening of the lowest hole, but a depth of 7 to 8 metres (23 to 26 feet) had to be sunk before the passage was reached; thence they followed the direction taken by the dogs, and enlarged the tunnel to reach them, making an underground roadway 5 feet high (1-1/2 metres) and nearly 6 feet wide (1-3/4 metres).