The ferret lady

You’ve heard of cat ladies, right? They take in stray after stray until their homes explode in a giant hairball. Today, I received an email from a reader, Luke, who has an interesting story to tell about a ferret lady.

So if you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to cram over a hundred ferrets under one roof, follow me below the fold.

Reprinted with permission.

Dr. Walnut,

A rare chain of events began by a coworker with a brain tumor led me to your Balls and Walnuts machine. I enjoyed your tale of the ferrets and degus very much. I had a ferret a few years ago, but it feels like a lifetime. We eventually had to part ways because we had conflicting political views.

I think your experience with Bueller’s sensitivity to death was fascinating, if that was his intention.

Let me tell you of an experience I had near the end of my relationship with my ferret. His name was Consualo.

As I said, Consualo and I eventually had to part ways. It was complicated, but it had to be done. I had a friend of a friend that knew Consualo, and in a previous meeting she had rambled on about some crazy Aunt she had that had a ferret house or ferret farm or something. I found her and contacted her, and asked if this ferret commune was indeed real, and she said yes. She assured me this would be absolute heaven for Consualo. I wanted only the best for him, so one sunny Saturday afternoon we took a drive to this foster home for ferrets.

I had Consualo in his cage by my side as I knocked on the front door. There is no way I can accurately describe what happened next. There were hundreds of ferrets. Everywhere. They were running in packs. Sleeping on steps. Pooping in corners. Crawling on couches. Wrestling, chirping, staring, running, forwards, backwards, sideways bouncing, biting… it was madness. I kid you not, this was a true 101 dalmations image. I was overwhelmed, motionless and speechless at first. The sound of Consualo banging his cage door brought me back to reality, and the woman who let us in the house said “go ahead, let him out.”

There was no good bye, not even a wink. Consualo ran from the cage and was absorbed by the passing herd of ferrets and I never saw “him” again.

I took the time to chat with this obviously insane woman. She was pleasant, and I would have enjoyed hearing more of her stories, but the stench was unbearable. She told me that when one of the ferrets passes on, (she was pretty sure) the same ferret always drags him/her to the corner of the entryway, by the front door. Then, the oddity occurs. Each ferret, or the vast majority, one at a time runs to this corner to “observe” the dead ferret. Some would come in brief contact, some would approach, then back up quickly. You know how ferrets have that amazing and awkward reverse transmission. I thought this behavior was peculiar.

Also, in relation to your story, she told me an interesting story of their “playthings”. This 2 story ferret retreat was equipped with doggy door type entries and exits, so the ferret population was free to come and go. She went on to tell me that at least once every 2-3 days, she’ll come upon a particularly wild pack of ferrets in a room and notice they will be playing with a dead animal. They take turns running with the dead animal while the others give chase and use any form of violence available to them to get the dead animal for themselves. Can you imagine 20, 40, or even 100 ferrets in this kind of battle? She said in the end, she may find a part or two but the rest is most likely eaten by the ferrets. I also figured quite a bit is rotting under her couches.

So one story of death sensitivity, one of morbid playfulness. Hard to say if your degu homicide was an act of compassion or boredom. I think both. Bueller saw it as a win win.

Thanks for your time,

Luke

Reminds me of the time we were raising chameleons. Two had free reign over the house, Zeus and Hamachi. We kept them at opposite ends of the house, but invariably one would climb down off his ficus tree, walk the length of the house, and duke it out with the other.

Once, we drove to Palm Desert or some similar godforsaken place to buy a chameleon from a breeder. He, too, had given his house to chameleons — but his monomania put ours to shame. Chameleons were everywhere. Every bathroom had vines and ficuses and drip watering systems strung up over the bathtubs. Crickets and other prey items crawled everywhere. He had toddlers, too, which has always made me wonder about his kids’ dietary practices. Jimmy Joe, don’t eat that cockroach until I’ve dusted it with vitamin powder!

That was weird, but not half as weird as a ferret lady. Thanks, Luke.

D.

Walnut, March 4, 2009. Category: Critter foo.

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