A perfect life of worms and cubs, ruined by irrational humans: my week as a badger

Fodio ergo sum. We badgers are philosophers and we’re big on logic. We’re not beasts in a hurry, not often: we prefer to think a thing through and then get it done. We do our best to live rationally. The world would be a much better place if those humans felt the same. Certainly for us badgers.

Monday

I dig therefore I am. That’s for those who lack the Latin. There’s nothing like the feel of good rich earth in your claws. I share our sett with seven other grownups and a new crop of cubs. Don’t think of it as a tunnel. It’s more like a suite of rooms in the beautiful dark dampness beneath the wood. If it should ever feel a little cramped, you have your snout and your paws, do you not? Naturally we all change the bedding every day. We have a shared latrine a decent distance away. We’re well organised beasts, us badgers.

Tuesday

Your worm is your only emperor for diet – my favourite line in all Shakespeare. The only thing better than a good worm is a few hundred good worms. Like us, earthworms are creatures of the earth and they’re a good three-quarters of every meal. And yes, I get them by digging, how else? Follow my favourite night-time foraging paths and you’ll find a series of little holes. Snuffle-pits.

Wednesday

I don’t have two black stripes on my face. That would be silly. I have a black face with three white stripes. White shows up best in any light: excellent for signalling to fellow badgers across a clearing. But there’s another use. Tonight a fox crossed my path. Heard me scrabbling and snuffling, for I don’t do sneaking. Perhaps he thought I was edible. So I gave him the look. Three white stripes that say: this is the dangerous end – and I don’t back down. Foxy took the hint and buggered off.