Foxglove February 25 2009

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.

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.

We decided to tackle the smaller bury that was threatening the cricket pitch first, me thinking that it would not take long. I should have known better! The rabbits took an age to start leaving the bury, the ferrets having had to go very deep to find them.

How deep? According to the locator, fourteen feet at one stage. We did not want to have to dig that deeply, and on the pitch itself we did not want to dig at all. Finally the rabbits started to bolt, and we had five out of there within ten minutes, with another that did have to be dug to but luckily was only a couple of feet deep.

The groundsman could get on with destroying the bury now that we had removed its occupants, and we went over to the big one. This became hard work for all of us: ferrets, dog and people, for again the rabbits took some moving out. One by one they netted themselves or were caught by the dog, and we had to dig two more holes, though luckily this was not on high-maintenance ground, and our own backfilling was quite sufficient to make good. Eventually the ferrets finished, and started to come to the surface.

All but one of them. We could not get a signal from the locator, and I was very concerned in case she had found a way into the old drain and gone. Ferrets are very inquisitive, and will follow a tunnel wherever it goes and then not be able to find their way back again. I began to notice how cold the wind was, and how noisy the traffic on the motorway, the way you do when you are waiting and listening.

The dog was staring hard at a rabbit hole, and then she moved to an adjacent one, raising her tail to wag it very slowly. Yes, here was the ferret peeping out, claws clogged with fur from where she had been trying to move a stubborn rabbit, and her transmitter collar jammed with mud. We took her up, cleaned off her feet and removed her collar, putting her back in her warm carrying box for the journey home. These little workers are very important members of the team, and mean a lot to us.

All we had to do now was pick up the nets, paunch out the rabbits and tell the security office that we would be on our way. The cricket team was safe for the summer