A quirky look at wildlife. To be taken with a pinch of

salt, but with more than a grain of truth!

Ever since badgers started visiting my garden in August 2005 I have wanted to get up close and personal, but without them seeing me. I am sure they are well aware that they have a human benefactor, but since not all humans feel kindly towards them I want them to remain wary of us.

The only way to do it with our house would be to have the kitchen door wide open and conceal myself on the floor. None of our windows open in such a way that I can see or photograph them, except through glass.

Having had several chilly, moonlit nights I decided that if I was going to breathe the same air as them, I would have to do it soon, before they hibernate in mid December, by which time it could well be too cold anyway.

So lying in bed one night (the only time I get any peace and quiet!) I planned my strategy. I would wedge the door to prevent it squeaking or closing and giving my presence away. I would need my exercise mat to lie on (never used for exercise as yet!), warm, dark clothes and possibly a sleeping bag, but nothing that rustled or rattled, like zips or velcro, as their hearing is good.

I would need a drink as our badgers have their own timetable and are often unpredictable. The drink would have to be hot water, as their sense of smell is acute, and coffee fragrance might alert them. I must also remember not to wear perfume, though an odourless deodorant might be a good idea. After all badger watching can be quite exciting, setting the heart racing, and one can work up quite a sweat.

Now, this exercise might well take several hours so the other consideration required a cork. OK, the loo is just a few feet away but you can bet anything you like, the minute I decided to move, the brocks would appear so cork it is!

Lastly I thought, I would need the night vision scope, and the camera. If my movements were sufficiently concealed I might just get a photo.

So, the chosen night came, all was prepared, and I settled down to wait, a scarf over my face to keep me warm and to prevent the badgers catching sight of my face in the moonlight. By this time a huge full moon lit up the garden almost like daylight, but with so many trees, it also cast some very deep, dark shadows. There was a strong breeze too, fortunately blowing towards me, and the whole atmosphere was spooky to say the least. Fences rattled, garden chimes tinkled, tree branches creaked (one half had fallen), and the bird feeders swung in unison, casting black moving shadows.

Suddenly, a creamy white shape materialised at the bottom of the garden. I could not see an outline - was it a cat? Was it a fox? An owl hooted loudly making me jump. The shape moved nearer, getting bigger until I could just see ears and a tail and four feet. It was a fox. Now was he going to 'blow the whistle' on me to the badgers? Their eyesight, like the badgers' is poor, but so long as I didn't move he probably wouldn't notice me, but they do have a good sense of smell. Not that I whiff any more than any other human being of course!

Then, well, what a time to get the urge to sneeze and blow my chances! I took a deep breath and held my nose. Not an easy feat - trying to get my handkerchief out while holding a night vision scope. My other half tells me my sneezes would wake the dead, so I was very worried, but I managed to stop it somehow.

The fox was soon joined by another, and they circled and prowled round the garden. In the moonlight, they looked so much like wolves, I had to stifle the urge to run, as they looked ready to howl at any moment. Once a fox starts it is the most blood curdling sound imaginable, but fortunately it is the wrong time of year. We mostly hear only squabbling 'teenage' cubs in October.

I lay there from eleven o'clock through midnight and nothing more stirred. It was getting distinctly chilly, and looking out into a garden that no longer felt as if it belonged to me, it was like looking for an oasis in the desert. Every dark shadow began to look like a badger, or maybe two, shapes formed and faded, and each time one appeared my heart thumped.

I must have gone in to a trance because I heard something big moving. My heart thumped. By this time most of the neighbours had gone to bed and all lights were out. I suddenly felt very alone. It is just possible to access our gardens from the adjacent railway bank, and it has been done on occasion. I peered into the darkness, heart racing, and reaching for the night vision scope, hoping against hope it wasn't an intruder. Yikes, something or someone was climbing over the fence at the bottom. I held my breath, trying to focus the night vision scope, which kept steaming up in the cold. A black shape appeared and got bigger and bigger.

I watched, and waited, and shook. It seemed an age, but in all probability it was only about thirty seconds before the apparition showed itself to be a large black cat climbing the fence. My brain exploded with relief – 'stupid woman' I told myself, 'in your own house, in your own garden, and frightened of a moggy!' How my husband would laugh at my stupidity.

I settled down again to watch and wait. A maintenance train rumbled by, with just the odd light showing, towing seemingly endless strangely shaped trucks, as the workmen went about their dastardly deeds in the dead of night.

It is amazing how sounds travel at night - snuffles in the undergrowth sounded like lions foraging, water running as a tap was turned on, sounded like a torrent. Muffled voices argued far away as drunks made their wobbly way home and someone close by coughed loudly. Was I being watched too I wondered?

A few whistles, flashes and bangs from fireworks kept me from dozing for a while, as they lit the garden up afresh. Fortunately our badgers seem immune to the strange things happening in the sky.

The night dragged on, the moon drifted higher, casting different more menacing shadows …….. then a terrific grunt nearly shot me out of my sleeping bag … what the heck was that? Then, face blood red, I realised I had fallen asleep and my own snoring had woken me up. 'Well, that's put paid to any badgers coming' I thought.

Then out of the corner of my eye I spied a movement. A slow lumbering grey shape was waddling up the garden path. Silver grey and black in the moonlight, his face came into focus, with his white stripes standing out like beacons. Once again my heart raced. This was for real. Somehow watching them through glass distances you from them, much like in a zoo, but here we were breathing the same air, hearing the same sounds, smelling the same scents.

He came closer, and tipped the table with a thump. I could hear his jaws going as he munched, and the slurps as he licked the sunflower seeds off the table. Then he moved to the first dish, pushing off the brick with a swift clout of his paw. The lid flew off with a nudge from his nose and his snout went in to the dish, foraging to see what 'goodies' the human had left him this time.

The crunch, munch and slurp continued for a while, then he decided to investigate the other dish. I was so absorbed in watching this action, that I totally missed the appearance of another grey shape, and nearly jumped out of my skin. Two badgers, at one time. I could hardly believe my luck. It doesn't happen very often, and certainly not to order. They took a dish each and appeared quite friendly towards one another.

Clearly neither of these was the badger who comes and scoffs all the food on the table and in both dishes, at one sitting, or there would have been pandemonium.

I watched breathlessly as they cleaned the dishes, mooched around for the odd peanut, and had a drink. Then something strange happened. They came towards the step up to the patio, heads swaying from side to side. They hadn't done that since I stopped feeding on the patio. One came up the step, still not noticing me in the doorway. The second followed and they mooched round the lower level patio clearly looking for more food. Heavens, up close they were BIG.

This was more than I could have hoped for - to get so close. I started to think about the strength of their jaws, and the size of their claws. Would they be friendly?

The bird table on the patio still had food on it - were they going to try and tip it over? Whoa, this was getting too close for comfort - badgers have been known to batter their way into a house for more food and I was getting distinctly jittery.

The two brocks climbed the second step, looming larger and larger in my night vision sights as I backed clumsily into the house, almost frozen with fear...

Just as they got within touching distance...

I woke up!

Websailor's Wacky Wildlife

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