Small animals multiply in shed; local man pleased
A man in Kent keeps ferrets, and the ferrets have done the thing ferrets do, which is make more ferrets. The new ferrets, initially blind and the size of an inconvenience, are now furry and mobile, and their mothers spend the day retrieving them from adventures, an activity with a completion rate of zero that they nonetheless continue, being parents.
The article supplies vocabulary you will retain for between one and four days: females are jills, males are hobs, Travellers say pugs, and a group is called a business, though saying so earns you scorn from experts, as most accurate statements do.
Events will now proceed as they have every year since ferrets and men first agreed to share sheds: the young will be distributed among local enthusiasts, the process will conclude at a horse fair in September, and the diarist will feel summer end, which it will do anyway, with or without ferrets, as is its custom.
Next spring, a squeal from the shed will announce that all of this is happening again. It is a rerun, but — the committee of one managing this desk will allow it — it is among the better reruns. The ferrets sleep wound into a single coil. Weather continues. So, apparently, do ferrets.