Be careful what you wish for

Simon Whitehead looks at the nature of ferrets and worries that we might be breeding out their hunting instinct

- Simon Whitehead

I don’t have to look at the calendar to know what time of year it is — my ferrets tell me. This month, I’m reminded it’s late spring because there’s incessant scratching; all of my ferrets have been segregated. Keen to mingle, the inhabitants of my cages also emit a potent cocktail of musty aromas and high-octane hormones. This year, I have decided to breed a couple of litters. I am keen to expand my team. I am also keen to supply a few of my friends with some fresh stock for the forthcoming winter’s work. Exchanging ferrets is one of the great joys of this game and used to be very common among schoolboys.

The miles are clocking up now that the shows are in full swing. These jaunts are always a good barometer of fads, fashions and fancies among the varying factions of the fieldsports community, and this year is no different. For some reason, I’ve recently been faced with lots of demanding questions about the best way to achieve a perfect ferret — what is it that you have to do, people have been asking me, to end up with a so-called ‘perfect worker’?

These visions of perfection are visions alone, I’m afraid. There is no such thing as a perfect ferret. Perfection just doesn’t exist, nor do I want it to.

I think Einstein is credited as saying, “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.” I’m not sure he was a ferreter, or a sportsman of any sort for that matter, but I agree with the sentiment completely. I have seen many trends come and go when it comes to ferrets and dogs, with many mistakes along the way — some of them my own, admittedly.