NATURE FLOCKS of starlings often puncture my lawn with "snake bites" in their quest for leatherjackets, leaving it looking as though it has been pricked with a garden fork. But I do not object. Not only do they reduce the number of larvae which feed on the grass roots; they also help aerate the soil. And their bill marks soon disappear.

However, when I went out into the

garden the other morning I had a shock; a golfing "rabbit" appeared to have used a third of the lawn as a practice range and failed to replace his divots. I counted at least fifty little pits with loose earth and wisps of grass scattered around them.

Obviously the culprit was a badger, digging for grubs of some sort; and it was equally obvious that the lawn would bear the scars for a long time, no matter how carefully I tried to repair the damage.

How to prevent a repetition? I decided to stay up the next night and give the badger a surprise. So directly it was dark I switched off all lights and, armed with a powerful torch, began a vigil at an open window overlooking the lawn.

Soon after midnight, cold and bored, I packed up and went to bed. But when I strolled outside for my first coffee of the day I found another third of the lawn had been vandalised. I like badgers and have, in the past, spent many hours happily badger-watching. But my feelings on this occasion were far from friendly.

Later in the day I visited the nearest

badger sett, about half a mile away. Signs of fresh digging and a bedding change showed it to be occupied.

To reach my lawn the badger (or badgers?) had to cross a main road and come down my driveway. So that night I spent three hours patrolling the route, making a noise and flashing my torch. So far it seems to have worked.

There was a bonus. During the daylight recce, as I was crossing a sluice, I heard a shrill and distinctive whistle, saw a kingfisher arrowing downstream, and had a clear demonstration of the prismatic nature of its plumage.

Before it cleared the partial shade of the sluice and some overhanging willows its back was definitely cobalt blue. But directly it emerged into full sunlight the colour switched to an iridescent emerald green; a real jewel of a bird.

HARRY CAWKELL

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