Watch out for articles, seemingly confined to the main stream Tory press, decrying the habits of foxes and badgers as, apparently, both are gorging themselves on the dwindling hedgehog population.
Raptors of all kinds are also in the frame and will need to be ‘controlled’ and very likely, as with the magnificent hen harrier, persecuted to near extinction.
It has long been rumoured that should they win the election, which you may have noted they apparently well and truly did, that the possible repeal of the fox hunting bill would be put to the free vote.
I have written to our MP and he assures me that there are no such plans and should there be in the future he will vote according to the wishes of his constituents.
He is an honourable man and as such I am sure he will take note of the social media petitions that will be posted both locally and nationally should fellow politicians give their mindless support for the repeal of this act.
As for the sad demise of the hedgehog, well I guess the clue is in their name.
Hedgerows, their natural habitat, are fast disappearing, freedom of access to gardens is severely restricted, and tarmacked highways buzzing with high speed vehicles – which, ironically, already go some long way to controlling both fox and badger populations, as well as killing the unfortunate little hortas.
COME on, folks, I am not the only person who has done it.
Late at night, after too much ice cream searching for a decent movie, you stumble across a shopping channel and before you know it, the very next morning an Amazon parcel is delivered to your door containing a foot massager.
This is quickly followed by three non-stick pans – which do stick after only a few outings, a pedometer that is so complicated it tells you everything you need to know about yourself except when you are in need of a haircut.
Then, best of all, the little voice recorder with a thick and incomprehensible instruction book, which when I asked my son to set up for me, he very kindly pointed out that I already had one on my iPhone and that I should lay off the late night ice cream.
Out of the mouths of babes, eh?.
Sharing some ice cream with some dear friends at their beach hut last Sunday morning opposite Winkle Island, I was surprised to see a young rabbit wandering along the beach nibbling happily at the grass.