A couple of weeks ago, I made another attempt to solve the mystery of why there are no badger cubs in the Quesse Wood sett, despite the fact that I have seen a female there who was obviously in milk. Too tired and busy to write this up before.

The wood is in a valley, created by a seasonal stream in the sandy soil, with farm fields on either side, which opens onto the main river valley. The main badger sett is about a hundred yards up the valley, but there is a smaller sett consisting of just a couple of holes on the bluff overlooking the valley mouth. I made my way slowly and quietly through the brambles until I stood with my back to a tree a few yards from the hole.

The bird life of the wood settled down after my arrival, and I listened to the resumed songs of robin, blackbird, collared dove and blue tits while I thought about what I might see. At the end of May, a fox had screamed as I left in darkness on the other side of the valley, and from a spot very close to where I was standing. The previous week, the first badger up from the main sett had immediately left towards these holes, and he may have been going to greet a young family here – I have noticed that the male badger often occupies a different part of the sett to the mother and cubs and “visits” at the start of an evening. The hole in front of me showed signs of use, but would it be fox or badger?

Ten minutes later, the badger came around the corner from the main sett and put his head in the entrance to the hole. However, he immediately continued along the path, stopped for a scratch just two yards in front of me, and then continued slowly down the slope towards the valley floor, filled with lush green vegetation and breakfast.

This answered my question. I did not believe that he would have ignored these holes had there been badgers inside, and anyway, a family of cubs would have been up and playing outside by then. No cubs here either.

I moved through the wood towards the main sett along the badger path, whose smooth surface, free of dead leaves and twigs, enabled silent movement which would have been impossible anywhere else in the wood. When I came through a clump of trees and could see the mounds of earth outside the nearest holes of the sett, another badger came down the slope and trotted along the path towards me, confident and relaxed. I held my body absolutely motionless, knowing their inability to recognize shapes, and waited to see what would happen.

About four yards from me, the badger stopped and stared at me in surprise and puzzlement. There hadn’t been a tree in the middle of the path last night! He tossed his nose in the air several times in the characteristic gesture used to test for scent, but I knew better than to waste my time approaching a sett from up-wind. He put his head on one side while considering me closely, then whirled around and dashed back to the sett with the characteristic looping bounds which betray his kinship to otters, stoats and weasels. However, he was not unduly alarmed because he stopped when he reached the first mound, looked around, then climbed the slope casually.

Not wishing to cause any more disturbance, I turned around and went home in good light for once, puzzled by my inability to find this clan’s cubs.