Dogs are on song for nature’s finest opera

In a terrain where holes outnumber rabbits, the dogs have to work hard but building a bag isn’t the only reward, says Simon Whitehead

It has been far too long since I last enjoyed a ferreting outing with my friends Shaun, Torchie and Sooty. Not only have we come through a pandemic, ill health and work commitments, but we also all lead chaotic lives. This has affected our diaries, but I was determined to redress the balance and a date was pencilled in. The townhouse would play host to the ‘jolly boys’ for the first time since I moved in.

I used to make the pilgrimage to the rabbiting Mecca that was the Yorkshire Dales when I lived in Suffolk. With rolling hills, drystone walls and a sea of warrens, Yorkshire offers a perfect relaxing break from the madness of day-to-day life.

I arranged a visit to our old stomping ground; small parcels of land that, over the decades, have hosted all of our trusty canine companions high in the hills.

It was Torchie’s permission; his dogs, Dan and Moss, used to be the kings of these hills. It’s a terrain where holes outnumber rabbits, and a lot of valuable time and light can be wasted if you don’t have a good marking dog. On this land, a hole can look like an occupied warren but, five minutes before you turn up, the locals decide to go to visit their relatives, leaving an empty house behind.

Limited light

After a good reunion in the pub — a night of Torchie and me interrupting Shaun and Sooty’s gin tasting — we made an early start to get the best of the limited light. The weather wasn’t ideal; a heavy mist, drizzle and chill hung in the air, but it didn’t dampen our spirits.

As I collared up the ferrets, Torchie was unusually quiet, which didn’t go unnoticed. It was the first time he had been back without Dan or Moss. As anyone who has said goodbye to a working companion will know, it’s an emotional time. We did, however, have Dan’s daughter, Tawny, and his granddaughter, Dotty, so his heritage lives on.

We sauntered over the field. My brace of dogs cast far and wide into the wind, much further than normal. The scent was hard to catch, but not as hard as the rabbits — because there

weren’t any. As we stood, watching the dogs cover the ground with purpose, I was starting to panic.

I looked at Shaun and raised my eyebrows in disbelief. Torchie stood alone, staring vacantly into the distance. It was a poignant reminder of how much we miss our dogs; they are far more than mere companions.

“Tawny stopped abruptly, and her whole demeanour meant one thing — a rabbit”

We had a precarious climb up a goat track in the trucks to reach the fields. There were no signs of rabbits on the way up. I thought this was unusual but simply put it down to the awful weather. After all, who would be daft enough to be out in such conditions? This used to be such a prolific field for producing bunnies but today we were in real danger of drawing a blank.

As we approached the boundaries and walls, and just as it appeared all lost, Tawny stopped abruptly. Her whole demeanour meant one thing — a rabbit. Two steps behind was her sidekick, Dotty. These places aren’t big, but being built upon limestone helps with the dig. After a quick scoop, we were off the mark.

Sooty was ferret boy for the day and I took responsibility for the spade. A few digs followed

With both Tawny and her daughter Dotty on its tail, the rabbit doesn’t stand a chance

Shaun starts to dig — ferreting without a good marking dog is much harder but this is no picnic

Shaun deals with a captured bunny Shaun and the dogs search the ground, looking for telltale signs that the rabbits are at home

Tawny and Dotty both chase a bolting rabbit