A Day Out With Digga
A crisp, but dry day high up in the Sussex Downs, no sight or sound of any other human except myself, who could wish for more? I cherish those early Winter mornings when the light is just breaking and the world truly feels as if it really could all belong to you alone! My old mooching dog Digga was trembling,, more through the excitement than the cold air, he knew better than I did that there were conies about! It had been a decent walk from the car to this particular spot , but I’d been here on several occasions before and knew it to be a very worthwhile spot. There is a decent bury under a big old tree that holds a few head of coney and is quite easy to work single handedly. Being off the beaten track it receives very few casual visitors, if there are any at all, they are usually walkers who’ve gotten themselves lost somehow or other! There are roughly a couple of dozen holes to net up, but they are quite spaced out, mainly over the bank and there is a crafty little bolt hole near the old metal gate, giving the conies the chance to escape along the usually dry, ditch bottom! I got stuck into setting the purse nets and finishing off by encircling the tree with the long nets , I like the belt and braces approach, why work hard then leave them a chance to escape? Digga is an old warrior who’d done his share of racing along the lamp, nowadays he prefers the slower pace of life being quite happy to snap up a coney after a short burst of activity, what I like to call a wise old dog! I’ve slowed down a bit myself now, as one does when the years creep up on you unawares, but hopefully, I ain’t over the hill yet! I’ve realised one thing though, as age takes away agility it compensates with craftiness and a little wisdom. I feel that I still have a lot to offer the younger ferreter who’s keen to get into the game whilst we still have the freedom to hunt the coney, or, any other quarry species. I don’t worry one iota whether my bag is one, or a hundred and one, it is more important to me that I am able to continue forward in my chosen sport, I’m quite happy to let others run themselves ragged in their search for bigger and better bags! All this runs around my head as I crouch quietly against a convenient little stump from where I can watch for any sudden action. Suddenly there is a bumping sound and quick flash of fur as a coney throws aside a purse net then veers left toward the distant wood and the freedom that beckons.
Wrong direction, it hit’s the long net and within seconds is totally tangled in the webs, I move in and end it’s struggle within seconds of it breaking from the bury! This is surely preferable to myxi or fox predation, or indeed a hundred and one other nasty forms of dying that can befall the coney on a daily basis! Suddenly there are two out of the bolt hole, one after the other, the first neatly purse netted whilst his mate streaks by, intent on making a dash for freedom along the dry ditch bottom, once again it’s the wrong decision! A short dash and he’s in the ditch net and waiting for the final curtain to fall! As suddenly as it began, the action ceases for the time being, giving me time to reset nets and pour a cup of much needed coffee from my flask. Then of course there was milk and a biscuit for the old stager, well, he nearly broke into a sweat one or twice earlier on and needed to calm down a bit! By the time I packed up a couple of hours later there were nine conies hanging from the low branch of the old tree, more than enough for me and representing a good mornings ferreting in the Downs. By the time I’d got all the gear together and slung the rabbits over my shoulder I was glad to make tracks for the car. Digga put up a coney on the way back to the motor but it was the equivilent of a granny chasing a Porsche and he soon gave up the unequal challenge, he too seemingly glad to be heading home! It was a good morning out for me, and sad to say, the last one for Digga, he had a massive stoke two weeks later and had to be put down! He’d been a good companion for a long time and deserved a quick end to the pain and indignity that he was suffering, there is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that that is what he would have wanted if he could have chosen for himself, he will be sadly missed by us all!