Another dawn, another day. Last night we had a lovely meal out at a
local restaurant to celebrate my daughter passing her first year exams of her medical
course and my son’s passing his first year of his college Land Management course,
and notwithstanding the unmitigated success of the badger protection programme
(Operation Mozart’s Magic Flute). We
raised our glasses and toasted each and every one of us. The night was amusing,
witty and thoroughly enjoyable. 7:25am this morning I was awoken to the song of
“Happy Father’s Day to you, Happy Father’s Day to you,” there they stood at the
bed side, Jackie with the tray of tea, the two kids laden with presents. We also do this ritual for Mother’s Day, ever
since the kids were big enough to walk. Up onto the bed they all clambered, the
bed seemed to have shrunk, probably down to the fact that Sophie was now nineteen
and Sam was a six-foot seventeen year old. ”Open your presents!” they yelled, their
excitement equally as great as mine. The star present was a rather splendid
camera and their faces lit up as they saw my surprise and gratitude. Cotswold
wildlife, get ready to smile!
As they left the room, breakfast bound, I
reflected on the time past of my own mum and dad who sadly had died before Sophie
and Sam were born. They were irreplaceable
like all parents are to any child: all that advice freely given from the heart
for the sole purpose of the child’s future happiness. You never realise what you’ve got until it’s
gone. A huge loss also for Sophie and
Sam, Grandchildren and Grandparents, a special kind of bond in any family was
not to be in ours.
Years ago, I made a little film
following a family of badgers in their day to day existence. The accompanying
tune to the piece of film was Bony M’s “Daddy Cool” - it makes me smile as much
now as it did then. I thought this tune quite apt, and this post apt on this
Father’s Day, because of me becoming so fond of who I called “Old Daddy Cool”:
the dominant male of the sett who made it his sole duty to protect and do the
best for his family. The film was a very rough-around-the-edges affair but it
gave a very clear insight into badger behaviour. I had followed them over a
period of about eighteen months or so, it was quite fascinating to see how they
go about their daily business, a definite ‘live let live’ culture was the order
of the day. The mother as well as father would reprimand the cubs and keep them
in check when play got out of hand, all seemingly done for the sett’s best
interest; no anti-social behaviour orders here. They looked after their own in
a truly caring loving environment. Diet was mainly made up of large amounts of slugs,
worms and seasonal berries, the odd snake or two would always be welcome if the
chance were to arise. What I also saw was the potential for a national badger
cull to cause havoc in this beautifully balanced environment. Whilst there is
no doubt badgers can pass on bovine TB to cattle, wholesale slaughter is not
the solution either (look back to my second post on this page “George Would
Have Told Them to Keep Dodging the Lead”). My concern is, once a protected
animal has that status removed it can so often open the flood gates to the
camouflage trouser, combat jacket
brigade that can cause so much destruction and misery in our precious
countryside.
All those years ago one bright August
dawn, when I was taking the films, my opinion of culling badgers was set in
stone forever. I remember quite vividly
my walk up to the sett that warm carefree morn.
The combine harvesters had finished cutting the wheat and a thick swath
of straw lay on the ground awaiting the bailer. As I entered the spinney
something was wrong. No bird song! As I got closer, no robin, “you always see
the robin before you see my badgers,” I thought. Just then, I averted my gaze to beneath an
elder tree, there lay a dead dog; it was a Staffordshire bull terrier, a badger
baiting dog. As I looked further, there
was another two. I turned to go across
to the sett. I didn’t want to as I knew
what carnage was about to greet me. Over
on the old play mound there he lay, Old Daddy Cool, his family lay scattered
around him, all of them displaying horrific open wounds, they had been ripped
to pieces. Looking at the shocking
devastation I could see that he’d fought like a lion to protect his family but
the odds had been just too great. I fear
with the government’s badger cull policy and the protection being lifted from
badgers in certain areas, the odds could easily become far too great for the
badger again. We must all stand up against these abhorrent crimes. Things have
moved on a little thank goodness, due to the work of Sir David Attenborough, Dr.
Brian May and many other influential big hitters. The Lord Protector of our woodlands needs all
the help he can get.
The Robin, the gardener's friend, will often be found where earth is disturbed; wild boar, pigs, badgers all provide the robin with a nice easy meal.
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