Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 712 by Angharad

“So how did you get on with the dormice?” I asked the girls on the way home.

“They were all asleep, so we didn’t see any.”

“Didn’t Neal or Gloria get some out for you to see?”

“No, but we did see all the babies.” Livvie was quite excited, it was her first dormouse.

“How many did they have?”

“Ten, Mummy, they were all fast asleep in a special nest box with a glass top.” I knew it well–I’d designed it. “They are so cuddly, Mummy, can we have some?”

“They’re not pets, Livvie, they’re wild animals. I mean you can’t have pet foxes or badgers,” I sighed: they’d be wanting one of those next.

“Ooh, yes please,” gasped the two elder children.

“I don’t think your mummy meant it quite like that,” Stella said, seeing where it was going.

“I could take you out to a farm on the downs where we might see badgers and foxes. Come to think of it, that might not be a bad idea. The only problem is it can get a bit late as they don’t come out until dusk.”

“I’ll be alright,” said Trish, Livvie agreed and Meems, who looked a bit puzzled, said she’d like to see them too, but couldn’t we get them to come and see us?

I explained about wild animals and that we weren’t guaranteed to see anything. I also explained they’d have to sit or stand very quietly or they would scare them away. Meems seemed to think that to have anything frightened of her was funny.

Puddin’ woke up in the car and was sick; thankfully Stella caught most of it, but I had to pull over for her to do running repairs and wipe her hands. The two girls got out of the car and just by chance in a field not more than a hundred yards away I saw a deer. Nobody else had seen it and the breeze was blowing away from it towards us, so it hadn’t heard us either.

“Keep quiet,” I hissed, “there’s a deer over in that field.”

“Where, where? Lemme see, I can’t see it.”

“No, because you didn’t do what I told you to do, and that was to keep quiet. Your squealing frightened it off.”

“That was her,” said two children pointing at each other.

“It was both of you, and I’m sorry but until you learn to be quiet, the only wildlife you’ll be seeing is flowers or trees.”

“’Snot fair,” they both grumbled. I felt like strangling them.

“Okay, if you can both be completely quiet until we get home, then I might reconsider. Do you think you can manage to do that?” They both nodded and pretended to zip up their mouths.

It was about fifteen minutes before we got home, driving past the spy school and the golf course. The spy school is where they train the next generation of James Bonds, and which no one knows about – officially, it’s a just a government training place, but we all know who and what they’re training. David Shayler the renegade MI6 agent who was arrested in France and then brought back here after he tried to publish a book, spilled the beans. Sadly, he’s now living in a squat and calling himself Delores, a reincarnation of Jesus or something. Looks like either the interrogation techniques or the stress of it all has had an affect upon him.

Neither of the girls – the school variety – had said anything. I even tried to tempt them. “Shall we stop for an ice cream, girls?” They nodded but said not a word. We didn’t, driving home instead, where they both sighed and chattered nineteen to the dozen. I could see where they got the idea of a chimps tea party now.

It went quiet while they were eating their ice creams, even Puddin’ had a taste of that. While they were eating, I found the number for Badger Hill Farm, and rang them. They were doing the badger watch, but it didn’t start until eight and they didn’t recommend it for under eight year olds, it being too late. I did promise to control them – the kids not the badgers – but they were adamant. I went back to break the bad news.

They weren’t too pleased, but accepted that I wasn’t trying to deceive them. They played for the rest of the afternoon while I prepared the dinner, some fresh salmon. I’d got us some steaks and was baking them when Tom arrived.

I kissed him on the cheek, “Thanks for lunch, Daddy, it was very kind of you.”

“Ach, it was nothin’ an’ the wains were sae guid.”

“They were good coming home, I promised to see if I could take them badger watching if they stayed quiet in the car. They did, but the farm I was going to take them to has an age limit, and they’re too young.”

“Whit? We’ve got badgers in the field beyond the garages.”

“What? I’ve never seen them.”

“Aye, well that’s pretty obvious: some field biologist you are.”

“I’ve never been in that field, it’s fenced off.”

“Aye, tae keep yon dug oot o’ it; she’ll roll in their droppin’s gi’n the chance. So she will.”

I laughed, badger poo is very smelly. Not to put too fine a point on it, it absolutely stinks, and is magnetic to dogs, who seem unable to prevent themselves rolling in it. Afterwards, it seems they need steam cleaning to get rid of the aroma. No wonder it was fenced off, to keep Kiki out of the badger latrines. Yes, latrines, they have special areas where they do their biz. They’re relatively clean animals, changing their bedding, and even airing it after it’s been underground in the sett for a while.

Badger setts can be quite large excavations, with several exits and entrances, and the colony can also be quite numerous. They’re protected animals although some farmers have killed them because they’re accused of being vector animals in bovine tubercular disease. However, culling hasn’t worked as it only encourages animals from outside the cleared area to migrate and spread any disease even more. There is also some argument about whether or not the badgers are as guilty as farmers think, or whether much of it is down to poor animal husbandry. I’d hate to see a big cull, I think it would be a huge mistake.

Tom disappeared as I was sorting dinner. He reappeared some fifteen minutes later, covered in dust and almost needing a shower before he could come to the table.

“Where have you been, Daddy? I’ve been ready to dish up for ages.”

“In the garage.”

“In the garage, what for?”

“I’ve been upstairs.”

“I didn’t know there was an upstairs.”

“Observant aren’t ye?”

“Wash your hands and sit down, I’m putting it on the table. Girls, dinner’s ready.”

Over dinner he explained that the garages had originally been small barns, and that they had storage areas up above the areas where cars had lately been kept or in one, my bikes and accessories. The upstairs was reached by a loft-style ladder, and there was a window through which one could see the field. We’d need some seats, but it wouldn’t take long to organise.

After dinner, I made the girls help me clear the table while Tom took some folding chairs up to the loft for them to sit on. After loading the dishwasher, we all trooped over and up the ladder. I reminded the girls that we’d all have to stay very quiet or the badgers wouldn’t come out.

Somehow, they stayed quiet enough for the best part of an hour – then we caught sight of movement and we were able to look down on three or four badger cubs, who played and squealed together for about fifteen minutes before their mother called them away with her.

For those who’ve never seen badger cubs play, it’s very boisterous. The noises they make are like giant guinea pigs, so if you could imagine bowling balls that ‘oink’, that’s about the size of it. They charge into each other like dodgem cars, squealing and tumbling. Because it’s done with such abandon, like kittens, it is very funny to watch. The two elder girls were covering their mouths to mute their laughter, and Meems was shaking with laughter on my lap as we followed the cavortings of our unwitting entertainment.

Once the badger family had moved off to dig for worms or whatever, we took the girls back to the house for bed. “Thank you, Daddy, that was brilliant,” I said giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Yes, thank you Gramps,” echoed the two schoolgirls. Meems was now asleep in my arms and getting heavier by the minute. Maybe it did me good to be reminded that I wasn’t the only authority on mammals in the house, and that local knowledge is very useful if not essential for most things.

'Vote or comment, or the dormeeces get it,' signed, Bonzi.