Ferreting in Suffolk

Simon, Sooty and Romford Dave head out for a hard days ferreting

We could have been anywhere. Straddling along the fields angular slope, the water bottle on my dashboard rolled from right to left. This was Suffolk, it's meant to be flat. Staring at me was one of nature's architectural masterpieces, but, it resembled more a moon face than a rabbit warren. Chiseled away by the teeth of generations of rabbits, the large area of shorn grass was a giveaway to their presence yet it allowed a diverse compass of moss and lichens to grow. Skylarks called out as they rose above the meadow and muntjac scarpered for cover. The hand of man nor aroma of ferret had touched this warren in living memory. However alluring this was, I had to be cautious. Such a warren could be my siren, (In Greek mythology they lured sailors with enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on rocky coasts.) I wasn’t to get carried away with the romanticism painted by what I saw. I had to be a realist in order to avoid a rabbiting disaster. A warren of this magnitude deserved my respect. It would take a lot of ferrets, a few hands, eyes and ears; a few yards of netting and a very fast and competent dog to get the rabbits moving.

Видео Ferreting in Suffolk канала ShootingTimesUK