Bog Myrtle & Peat

The ferret show at the Scone Game Fair still has no idea what hit it. Organised and judged by the Scottish Ferret Club, the show was not at all what I was expecting. From what I could see, mine were the only two working ferrets in the contest, and as the other competitors were being sleekly brushed, combed and crimped, mine shuffled around and peered out of their battle box, stinking quietly.

Velour hammocks and brightly coloured ferret “toys” were the order of the day, and there was no mention of rabbits at any point. A rather severe woman took my hobs away where they were weighed and measured in a caravan nearby. Amongst other things, the judges assessed the ferrets on their teeth, their finger nails and the symmetry of their markings, none of which I have ever given the least attention to. They eat rabbit, so their teeth are fine, they run on tarmac roads, so their fingernails never grow long, and their markings are totally unimportant, being obscured most of the time by sheets of blood and rabbit related gore. Being made to feel like a hayseed “down-at-heel” ferret owner for daring to use my boys to work made me stick my heels in, and I pointed out rabbit blood stains on my ferret box to one or two of the judges in an attempt to inflame the situation.

There was a surprisingly tense moment as the results of the judging were announced. Mercifully, one of my two hobs had scraped a 3rd place in the “various colours/hob” category, perhaps the least noteworthy accolade of the day. I was told that my other ferret hadn’t won a prize because his markings were too “uncoventional”, despite the fact that I would back him on a tricky holed up rabbit far more than I ever would his brother.

I took great consolation from the fact that, despite their supposedly unconventional appearance, my two hobs were far bolder and finer specimens than any of the other pampered show ferrets.

If it comes to the crunch, I want a ferret who will do the business underground – not one that lies on its back snoozing in an indoor cage. Secretly delighted that I had won a rosette, I left the tent and vowed never to have anything to do with ferret shows ever again.