Shooting Times & Country Magazine
Going for a quick six
Fred J Taylor and his fellow ferreters try to beat their own long-held personal best for the number of rabbits caught on a lovely small shoot
another set close by and three more farther along the blackthorn hedge. It could be a good morning’s sport.”
The meadow was white with frost as we approached the next day. Normally we see rabbits sitting out on crisp mornings; this day in the early fog we saw none. “We will now test Taylor’s theory about what’s at home,” said Malcolm. “I’ve heard tales about quick sixes before.”
Six rabbits bolted
ferreters can usually cope with a single situation, and in the event of a hold-up it makes little sense for three operators to be hanging around doing nothing. In an open situation it is as well to leave one to watch for the laidup ferret while the others continue working ahead. It means that some of the action is missed, but usually there’s enough to go round.
The third bury produced another ‘quick six’ and with just over an hour gone we had 17 fat, clean rabbits hanging up at strategic points. Our own record for this particular little shoot has remained at 33 for several years. They were taken in a four-hour session and, in view of the terrain, we had always thought that this record would stand. Today we were halfway towards beating it in little over a quarter the time.
“Let’s go for broke,” I said. “We’re in with a chance of a new record.” Malcolm groaned. Things usually go wrong when I make predictions. But by 10.30am, which was two and a half hours after entering the farm, we had 27 rabbits strung. At 12.30 we still had 27.
We were also considerably the worse for wear, having battled with a jungle of tree roots in deep holes. It was a situation somewhat difficult to figure since it involved a great many tiers and junctions, but we found the rabbit eventually. It bolted out of a hole we’d left uncovered. One lost rabbit means nothing. We wished it luck, took another quick single from a short stop and made our way back to the car. It was 1pm. We had failed to beat our record but we had had one devil of a good day’s rabbiting.
As we piled the gear into the car, Malcolm spotted a ‘run’ into the ditch and decided to investigate. Having disposed of my evil-smelling ferreting togs and already dressed in my ‘going-home clothes’, I was obliged to lie full stretch over one end while the loose jill entered the other. It took a long time — about 20 minutes in fact — for the rabbit and ferret to emerge together. Malcolm despatched number 29 and that was that.
That night, because it was cloudy, we took the long net out for a quick drop. It was a practice run, a chance to see how well my spot lamp would work afterwards. We left the lamp, dropped the net, and at that precise moment the black clouds rolled away
“Today we were halfway towards beating the record in little over a quarter the time”
from the moon. Suddenly it was like daylight and we knew it had all been a waste of time. Three rabbits hit. We killed only one and picked up the net.
More to come
That ought to have been the finale to an interesting weekend, but there was more to come. I shone the lamp across the home field and, amazingly, picked up several rabbits lying out. Their eyes twinkled in the beam and they stayed put. A rifle would have made short work of them, so too would a running dog. I am quite certain that we could, had we so chosen, have caught those rabbits by hand. It is not too difficult when the rabbit is lit up from the front.
I wanted to prove whether or not the lamp’s infrared cover does what the makers claim — illuminate a creature without it being aware of the fact — but this was not the right occasion and I’m still not sure. Given a more mobile battery pack (ours was a heavy, makeshift affair) I am sure that we shall be able to manipulate the situation to suit our needs. Meanwhile we watch the moon and wait for it to wane.
This article was first published in the 2 November 1979 issue of Shooting Times.