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Ferret hunting

As every year, at the beginning of August the hunting season for wild rabbits opened. This practice, often aided by ferrets, the domesticated relatives of polecats, was a popular activity in the area. It was a tradition passed down from parents to children, and each family had its own tricks and strategies, which they guarded closely and were careful not to reveal to their fearsome rivals.

Rivals who later in the bar boasted of having the best "jurón", which is what it was called in the area and which was capable of bringing so many rabbits out of their burrows in a single morning.

Andresín had never been skilled at hunting, in any of its forms. To tell the truth, he was only skilled at eating. Not even at good eating, just at gorging himself, something his figure generously and amplely displayed, with its enormous rosy cheeks, a round belly half-constricted by a thin belt, and a colossal backside that made even the inanimate chairs he sat on tremble. Even so, the boy handled himself with ease and moved that tight body with agility.

Like any other kid, until his father died, he accompanied him and learned the trade. His father was a renowned hunter who dedicated himself to teaching his young son Andresín every hunting season, although the boy was always more interested in the clock, waiting for breakfast so he could devour the cured pork loin sandwich that his mother lovingly and generously prepared.

This infuriated his father, but in the end he had no choice but to accept it and exchange the hunting trip for a day trip through the countryside, surrounded by nature, where they would have breakfast outdoors.

As his father used to say: –If you can't beat them, join them.
When his father left on that journey no one wants to take too soon, Andresín, with a mixture of longing, continued doing what he had done with his beloved father and the customs of that village. He continued practicing that type of hunting, in his own way, of course.

The ferret is an animal that must be pampered and handled extensively throughout the year so that, when the time comes to pick it up and lead it into its burrows, it doesn't bite indiscriminately, seeing the hunter as a companion rather than an enemy. Thus, when hunting season arrived, the animal would allow itself to be caught meekly and would come when called by its master.

Andresín, as you might expect, hadn't gone near the animal since the previous season, during which he'd already received a few warnings that their friendship was in a precarious state. He wasn't even the one feeding the little animal; it was always Tomasa who did it, much to her dismay.

That first Sunday of hunting, Andresín jumped out of bed, or as his father would have said if he were alive, he sprawled out to one side until his feet touched the floor. He had a very clear idea in his head, and it wasn't the ferret, precisely. The smell of grilled bacon wafting up to his bedroom had given him such a rumbling stomach that his eyes popped open. He was salivating, licking his lips, and imagining that pork loin sandwich buried in mayonnaise.

"Mother!" he shouted, hopping on one leg as he tried to pull up the second leg of his trousers. "Fry some garlic too, I like the aftertaste better.".

"What an animal you are, my son. If we had raised a pig for every year of your life..."

–Thank you, Mom! I'm coming down now, Mom!

A strong smell of patchouli filled the small house. Tomasa, looking up at the sky, shook her head from side to side.

–But Andrés, my darling, haven't you realized yet that if you wear cologne you'll scare the rabbits away?.

And he, with a broad smile, grabbed the satchel and replied: –Yes, but this won't get away from me.

He picked up the pickaxe where he carried the ferret that his mother had prepared for him and, after a kiss on the forehead, he set off towards the mountain.

"It's a good thing he doesn't hunt with a shotgun," Tomasa thought, "otherwise, not today."
Not even the Civil Guard was safe.

Andresín only remembered the places where he and his father stopped for a snack. He headed towards a hill where there were quite a few rabbit burrows, next to a large holm oak that shaded them while they ate breakfast. Before long, he was sitting among the hollows of the old, cracked trunk, enjoying the cool shade of its thick branches, tucking into the tasty food that his mother, Tomasa, had lovingly prepared for him.

The bread, conveniently tangled between bacon and pork loin, lasted less than a breath in Andresín's mouth. He took a sip of water to help the lump go down to his belly and sat down to rest. Meanwhile, the poor ferret kept a close eye on the boy, who probably saw him more as something to fear than as his owner.

The boy fell into a deep sleep and lay down against the large tree trunk. He slept so soundly that his mind even had the tranquility to pause and dream, and what else would that little head occupy its time with but thinking of food?.

Suddenly, Andresín found himself in front of a good-sized pan of rich, soupy rice, interspersed with generous slices of wild rabbit. That delicious aroma that emanated from any of his mother's stews made him salivate so much that it was a good thing he woke up, otherwise he would have choked.

With a somewhat forced and noisy cough, he sat up, grabbed his ferret's spear, and headed towards the embankment opposite, visibly riddled with rabbit holes. That beautiful dream had to become reality. Kneeling, he prepared to use all the wisdom he had inherited from his father. Although, to tell the truth, since he hadn't paid much attention to hunting, he couldn't have learned much.

To prevent the ferret from killing the rabbit inside its burrow, it had to be muzzled. This task required a certain amount of skill because, although the ferret was assumed to be tame, it was important to remember that when muzzling it, the hunter's mouth had to be placed just centimeters from the animal's, and feeling trapped, the ferret could react in any way.

A leather strap was used to make a muzzle for the animal's mouth. While holding the ferret with one hand, the other hand grasped one end of the strap. To close the muzzle, the other end was taken between the teeth and pulled in the opposite direction, thus trapping the small mustelid's mouth and preventing it from killing the rabbits.

Thus, the only thing the little hunter managed to do was scare the prey, who came out blinded by fear from the mouths of the burrow, where the ferret's owner waited impatiently.

The theory was clear, but for Andresín, the practice was light years away.

It was already a problem to get the small animal out of the "sack" where a couple of bite marks were left as a warning.

However, his desire to eat the rabbit stew he had imagined, and which his stomach had been chanting, was so strong that he grabbed the little creature in his big hands, held one end of the muzzle with one hand, and, when he was about to close it with the help of his teeth, "zap!", the animal turned around and caught his lips with its sharp incisors.

Young Andresín froze, stunned by the ferret's unexpected reaction, and, holding it by the abdomen, he sat up. The pressure on his lips was immense, and his first instinct was to pull away from the pain. But as he was about to remove it from his mouth, he thought:

–If I pull on the “jurón” and tear my lip, I could bleed to death.

Laziness took hold of her legs, so much so that they trembled. With the animal in her hands, pressing harder and harder against its aching lips, even more so when he gave it the occasional careless squeeze on its tiny body, she began to circle around and around.

It revolved around a mastic tree, around a turpentine tree, around a clump of kermes oak… The scene was laughable: a kid bigger than a cart with a ferret attached to his lips.

In a moment of clarity, he thought, "If I twist one of its toes, it might open its mouth and let go." No sooner said than done. He grabbed the animal's paw and twisted one of its small toes. It was so effective that he had barely begun to twist the toe when the animal released its grip on his lip, reaching for the boy's hand. Once free, the boy let go of his little nightmare, who took the opportunity to slink away from Andresín.

How happy they both were. One's lip no longer hurt so much, and the other's foot. Confused, the boy sat down on a rock. He had gotten rid of the ferret, but he had also lost it. And what was worse, he wouldn't have any rabbit stew.

As I pondered everything that had just happened, along the path leading from the neighboring village appeared Mr. Luis, an old man with sun-weathered skin and a special wisdom gleaned from long days in the fields. Sitting sideways on a small donkey, he was on his way to visit some relatives in the boy's village.

"Who did you fight with, Andresín?" he asked, worried.

–Me? Nobody, Mr. Luis, nobody.

-Sure?

"I'm as sure as I am that I'm hungry," the boy declared.

–And then…what is that blood that decorates your lip and shirt like tears?

The poor boy hadn't noticed because of his nerves, but the animal's bite had made his lip bleed and had stained a good part of his clothes red.

–Ah! This blood? Don't worry, Mr. Luis, it bit my snout.

–Ha ha ha –laughed the old man –but ferrets don't bite, they're tame!

“Not mine, you can be sure of that,” he said, stretching out his shirt to show off the new pattern his little pet had given him. “Maybe I’ve neglected him a bit this year and he’s lost his tameness; he got angry and gave me a nip on the lip, but nothing more.”.

"If you want, I'll tame him for you, Andresín," said the weathered gentleman, making a move to get off the donkey.

–Don't get out. To tame him we'd have to make him suffer, wouldn't we?

–A little, Andresín, a little. But these creatures have no memory for pain and they forget it right away.

Well, if anything surpasses my constant hunger, it's my desire not to harm animals unnecessarily. He bit me because I didn't take care of our friendship. I'd better take him to a shelter where they'll care for him. He's not to blame. If anything, it's mine.

–Whatever you want, Andresín, it's up to you. But… he who bites once, bites again.

–Thank you Mr. Luis, but this one won't be hunting anymore.

The old man led the donkey towards the village, said goodbye and walked away, leaving the boy looking thoughtfully at his pet.
His mind elsewhere, thinking about the scolding Tomasa would give him, he straightened his clothes, as if trying to hide the obvious marks his ferret had left on him. Bag over his shoulder, he headed towards his house.

As they approached, the rabbits poked their big-eared heads out. They seemed to have a mischievous grin on their faces, perhaps thinking:

–There goes Andresín, the hunter without prey. The glutton without supper. The big kid with an even bigger heart.

And whistling any made-up tune, he walked away along the path on the way home.

If you enjoyed this story, remember that Explora Natura will be publishing more of Andresín's adventures for you.

Antonio Pestana

Antonio Jesús Pestana Salido (Cabra, Córdoba, 1970) is an Andalusian ornithologist and nature photographer, specializing in birds and the interpretation of the Mediterranean landscape. From childhood, he has been involved in the study and observation of wildlife, and has spent decades exploring the natural areas of Andalusia, especially the Subbética region of Córdoba.

He is a nationally awarded nature photographer, winner of the first prize in the Carl Zeiss nature photography competition (4th edition) with a digiscoping image of a common crossbill, in addition to other recognitions in specialized bird photography competitions.

As a field ornithologist, he has participated in bird monitoring and conservation projects, especially for birds of prey and steppe birds, and has served as provincial coordinator in Córdoba for the Montagu's and hen harrier censuses. He is also president of the Abanto naturalist association, dedicated to the dissemination and conservation of natural heritage.

He is the author of several books on Iberian fauna and popular culture published by specialized publishers, including "Iberian birds in popular culture" and "Iberian diurnal birds of prey in popular culture," works that compile proverbs, beliefs and traditions related to birds in popular culture.

In addition to his work as an author and photographer, he develops outreach and environmental education activities, leading nature outings, giving bird photography workshops and collaborating with educational centers, associations and nature tourism projects.
She regularly works with schools, designing wildlife observation activities adapted for primary and secondary school students. She also collaborates with companies and associations on birdwatching tours, teaches nature photography courses, and participates in the design of natural areas.