The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2414 by Angharad Copyright© 2014 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“There’s something going on up here...” Dan’s call had made my tummy flip. “They all know it’s a nature reserve, but I’ve been finding snares and used cartridges, so someone is trapping and poaching up here.”

I said I’d be up as quickly as I could and had he called the police. He’d informed them but they weren’t interested and I could appreciate that they would see dealing with gangs or drug dealers more pressing than someone popping off bunnies or bigger animals on a nature reserve. I decided I wanted to gather more evidence before getting involved with the enforcers of the law.

Danni walked in as I was getting ready to wander through the woods, pulling on my cargo trousers and green shirt. “You going mousing? Can I come?”

“I thought you were going to see Cindy?”

“Nah, she’s gorra go to the dentist for braces.”

“Orthodontist, you mean.”

“Yeah, som’in’ like that.”

I spend a fortune on these girls’ education and they all sound like they work on the docks. “I’m going to see if we’ve had poachers or hunters on Billie’s reserve.”

“Can I come then, I’ll help you look?”

I was going to say no, but her hang dog look stopped me. I didn’t do that much with her except the odd bike ride and it was too far for that. “Get changed and hurry.”

“Yesssir,” she called as she dashed out of the room and I frowned. She reappeared as I was checking out my camera and we collected our boots and jackets and together with my rucksack and small bum-bag, deposited them in the Jag and set off for the woods.

When David said he was doing some baking today, the three mouseketeers asked if they could help, so I left them with him and expected to find them either covered in flour or baked in a pie when I got home. Jacquie was tending the little ones, so Danni and I hopped it before anyone else noticed.

“What are they like, poaching?” she asked

“Probably rabbits, though we do get the odd hare on the edge of the woodland, where we own the surrounding fields.”

“There’s fields there too, I thought it was woodland?”

“It’s unimproved pasture and the local wildlife trust implored us to buy it, so we did.”

“What, you own it?”

“Daddy and I do.”

“Wow, you didn’t tell any of us.”

“It was mainly a paper exercise, and by directly owning it and leasing it to the reserve, I have greater control over it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I got Jason to write the lease. The land is in a trust Daddy and I control and it cannot be used for any agriculture except as a hay meadow and it strictly specifies no chemicals can be used as fertiliser or pesticide. The clauses concerning the lease are tighter than Julie’s jeans.”

“Jeez, they must be tight then,” she smirked.

Arriving at the reserve we had a quick tour of the buildings as they were growing, Dan was using a caravan temporarily as an office but it had mains water, drainage and electricity. The place was moving on apace and it was nice to see we had some hard standing to park the car, so could get off the road. I questioned the builders about anything they might have seen or heard and they did admit they heard shooting earlier on in the week, but assumed it was on a farm. I told them it was unlikely as the reserve owned or leased all the land for nearly a mile in every direction, except the main road. They seemed surprised at that and the fact that I was the director of the centre and thus Dan’s superior. Danni let drop I was a professor, she omitted the acting bit, and there were a few strange looks.

Dan locked his office and we loaded up our stuff and set off on foot to the areas he’d found which had been abused by the poachers. En route we found two snares, one containing a dead rabbit—it had strangled itself. I felt myself getting very angry but held it together long enough to take photos and then destroy the traps with wire cutters, flinging the bits far into the undergrowth.

Danni was visibly upset by the scene of the poor lagomorph’s demise and Dan walked her on a few yards while I covered up the body. It was still warm. About quarter of an hour later we found some cartridge cases—not twelve bore shotgun stuff, but rifle cartridges. Someone was after bigger quarry than bunnies, probably deer. I could see the hay meadows from where I was standing and it tended to indicate that’s possibly where the deer where. We photographed the cartridge cases before picking them up with some latex gloves I had in my pack. Finger prints may be present on them.

The persistent buzzing of flies and tyre tracks showed the deer was closer than we thought. The head and guts were left discarded in the undergrowth and there were signs of blood on the surrounding vegetation. The smell in the warm weather was awful and Danni ran off to vomit while I held my breath to take my photos. It was beginning to look like we had a problem.

I photographed the tyre tracks, one of the wheels had a funny tyre which left a peculiar mark and would be identifiable if we found it. I took measurements to add to the evidence. I was growing angrier by the moment but it was like a cold anger, if I caught the person responsible, I would exact revenge big time and not necessarily through the system.

We found more snares and more tyre tracks with bits of dead deer nearby. If they thought they’d got most of the deer they may not return for a long time. In some ways that suited me. I called Delia and asked her to have some signs made saying that this was a nature reserve and that hunting or snaring was prohibited, as was removal of timber or wild flowers.

She called me back an hour later to say twenty signs would be ready for collection at five o’clock. I’d have to go to Gosport to get them but that was no problem and after our examination of the site, Danni and I left to get a sandwich and drive home.

We stopped at a service station which also has a shop attached, and Danni skipped off to the toilet while I got us some filled rolls and a bottle of water each. As I was paying for the food, I glanced out of the window and Danni was examining the wheels of a 4x4 which had stopped for fuel.

By the time the moron on the cash desk had taken my money there was a heated conversation going on between Danielle and some Neanderthal complete with beard covered heavy jaw and low forehead.

“You were hunting in a nature reserve, you bastard,” called my teenage daughter.

“Piss off, girly before I hunt you.”

“I suggest you try something more your own size,” I said loudly.

“Is that an invitation, darlin’?”

“Only to meet me in court.”

He gave me a strange look and Danni pointed at the tyre, “Look, Mummy, it’s the poacher’s car.”

“Call the police, sweetheart, let’s see if it is.”

As she pulled out her phone to dial, he snatched it from her hand and pushed her over. It might possibly be his last mistake. I dropped the sandwiches and stepped towards him.