Bog Myrtle & Peat

The single greatest advance in the world of human technology was the invention of the wellington boot. Or so a ferret might argue.

Playing with my two new jills in the garden this evening, I noticed that one of them was becoming increasingly vocal and shrill. Unsatisfied with tugging at my trouser leg, she started to clamber up and over my shoulder. Ferrets are seldom affectionate unless it suits their immediate ends, and it became obvious that this little beast was hungry.

Having forgotten to get more kitten food, I decided to introduce them to rabbit. A ten minute walk up the road with the shotgun produced two bunnies, both of which were duly bagged and drawn. One was thrown in with the ever appreciative pair of silver hobs and was quickly dismantled, while the other was spread out on the lawn, ready for inspection by the new girls.

Contrary to my expectations, they were horrified to meet their first rabbit. With characteristic ferret bravado, they didn’t want to admit their fear, but it was clear that all was not well. It suddenly occurred to me that placing two animals which have evolved to lurk in the shadows in the middle of an open lawn with an unfamiliar (and significantly larger) beast could well be an intimidating experience. They had nowhere to run, so they came to me.

I took off a wellie boot and both immediately dashed into it and lurked in the toe, muttering and hissing to one another. I moved the wellie closer to the rabbit, and two little faces peeked out. From the security of the wellie, they felt confident enough to explore the rabbit, and within five minutes, one had latched on to the back of its head while the other was feasting on raw liver.

It makes sense that ferrets would love wellies. Dark, secretive corners must appeal to these fascinating little buggers, and now that my two have met their first rabbit, I hope that they will continue to explore their interest in holes.