Foxglove April 22 2009

Meanwhile, the puppy is helping me to clean out the ferret court, which means that the job is taking far longer than it should. When she is older, she will find these strong-smelling little creatures her allies, and she will work with them, catching the rabbits that they will bolt from the underground chambers.

Just now, she is not sure of them. She meets them under controlled conditions, and finds them curious: not friendly but not nasty either. I can trust the pup not to bite the ferrets but the ferrets might well nip the pup if they think she is not sufficiently respectful. This week, she saw another dog catch and kill a rat, so I am being extra cautious in case she transposes the idea. She knows the difference between rats and ferrets just as we do, but she is young yet and only just beginning to learn friend from foe.

Meanwhile she gets under my feet and in my way, drags at the broom, dives through the ferretry door to pull a pheasant wing from the pile I have just swept up, needs a hand in her mouth to dislodge something stuck between her teeth which turns out to be a clump of feathers, and is generally a pest of the first order.

Now I need the scoop to fill a container with shavings for the clean beds, and it is not where it should be. Despite the best of training, a young Foxglove has evidently temporarily forgotten the maxim: "Don't put it down, put it away".

I improvise, which involves spilt shavings for the puppy to dance through, and I ponder if a spell in the dungeons might be good for the remover of scoops. Turning to the water bowls, I scrub them round, rinse, and fill with clean water.

The hob ferret likes to splash about in the water, and makes a good mess of it. I could take the bowls away and use drinkers, but it would spoil his fun. The puppy takes a drink out of the clean water and looks at me with eyes slanting mischief, bubbles on her whiskers.

Bedding changed, debris swept up and bagged, I have to say with some difficulty, water bowls back in place, and now all I have to do is take the ferrets out of their box and put them back into their quarters.

Food is waiting for them, but they would rather play, so they climb all over me, chattering, while the pup watches from behind the weldmesh. I unstick them one by one, checking briefly to see if the jills are still in season (they are) if their ears are clean and their teeth sound.

A quick look at their nails, and all is satisfactory, so I extract myself from their attentions and close the inner and outer doors behind me, leaving them snuffling through their clean beds. Turning to put broom and shovel away, I see that the pup has shredded the water-bowl scourer into a confetti of pieces, which serves me right because I put it down and not away.