Dear Ferret Folks-
 
Today was what passed for a nice day in New England this spring.  It was
clammy, overcast.  Tiny black flying insects tried to land in the corners
of my eyes, and mosquitos tried to land everywhere else.  At least the
chill in the air has kept the tulips up and blossoming, each one looking
like a cast-off shard of bright broken glass from the rose window of a
gothic cathedral.  Oh, so pretty and fresh!
 
My husband Dann was a very good doobie.  He roto-tilled the vegetable
garden, careful not to murder any of the strawberries planted in a row
down the middle.  The dirt was just perfect.  Dry, but not sandy, or full
of leaf mulch from the nearby white ash trees.  The rototiller made it
soft, and loose.  Perfect for digging in.  Why, if I were a ferret....a
ferret....hmmm.
 
In short order we had Ping is He in his red nylon H-harness and leash,
and Puma in her blue H-harness and leash.  We had to adjust Puma's,
she has already outgrown her last setting!  She is fourteen inches long
now (excluding tail), and has lost that round baby belly.  She has kept
the warm cinamonny color that makes her look like a piece of sugar and
cinamon toast.  She is still a wild child, though.  Last night she
committed war crimes against my bare toes.  How old are they before they
learn manners?
 
We took our small friends out to the freshly turned over soil and let
them wander at will.  Ping immediately began to tunnel.  He is an ardent
and careful tunneler.  He pulls the waste dirt back towards himself in a
thin, fan-shaped, even layer.  Then he burrows back head first beneath
the soil and digs more deeply still with his front paws...scratching,
scratching, scratching furiously.  Roots and stones don't stop him.
 
Puma, however, is still at a developmental stage in which all rooms
should have walls, ceilings, and corners.  Even if they are outside, and
trees and shrubs grow in them, and they have dirt on the bottom.  She
does not like the sky.  It offends her internal sense of order, and she
hides from it.  In this case, beneath a pile of cut pine planks, worn
smooth from spending all of last winter out in the snow.  Dann just let
go of her leash, and followed her progress.  Occasionally we could see
grass bending here and there, or a small head with a worried looking
expression would pop out from beneath the planks to see if there was a
ceiling yet.  Nope.  Back under the planks.
 
This went on for some time.  Ping's nose darkened, and his ears slowly
filled with soil.  I thought about the post yesterday, in which someone's
ferrets built a ten foot long tunnel.  I decided Ping and Puma were tired
now, and we brought them back inside, smelling marvelously of grass and
earth and ferret.  I decided Ping and Puma needed a nap now, so I lay
down in my bed, and pulled a pillow over my head for a few hours.
 
I love gardening with ferrets.  So restful.
 
Alexandra in Ma
[Posted in FML issue 4884]