Foxglove

ALTHOUGH it is tempting to put off jobs that we don't want to do, inevitably the time comes when they must be started, and I was looking at one such now. At half-term, the school's grounds had to be ferreted, for the rabbits had reached a stage where they presented a health and safety issue.

Scrapes had been made in the playing fields, and there was a bury by the side of the cricket pitch which had started to extend onto the hallowed turf itself. Given that I enjoy my ferreting, why had I been putting this visit off? Just look at this.

The main bury was either side of a high fence, one that could not be crossed. My colleague had gone round by the smaller gates to the other side, where he was filling in rabbit holes using a spade, fallen branches and anything else useful that came to hand. It was a miserable task: he was bent almost double in a thick hedge, and very uncomfortable.

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My side was simple enough to net, but there was evidence of an old drain run right through the bury, which could mean trouble if the ferrets got into it. We had been assured that it was collapsed and filled in, but I had a frisson of doubt. Along my side of the fence, I had done my best to block rabbit holes too, for if a ferret managed to sneak under the fence, it would need an Olympic-grade sprint to get the other side in time to catch it.

For full feature see West Sussex Gazette February 25

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