Digging out a Ferret.
Two men were digging in the bank, throwing up a great mound of red earth containing the roots of blackberry and dog-rose. I watched for a while and smiled. They had been trying their hand with a ferret, and were enjoying one of the pleasures of the game—digging out one that had stayed below to gorge itself with blood. Two rabbits lay on the grass. All the nets had been lifted. The owners of the ferret got down on their knees and listened, rose and began to dig again. The afternoon was running out, and they looked like having to abandon the little hunter. I could have given advice, but judged from their expressions that they were in no mood to listen. Rabbits may be bringing a good price, but the money obtained from the sale of a pair would not be sufficient to replace the ferret. It was a bad day's work--enough to cure all but an enthusiast of the desire to net a warren again.
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