I was taking time out, kicking back after finally winning the prestigious nature-photographic competition – and a hands down win too, I might add. I was wandering in a hitherto unexplored stretch of forest and suddenly, in this space, there it was, as plain as day!
I cannot remember ever seeing a weasel before but there, not fifty metres away was a long, slinky animal with its iconic reddish-brown fur. I was sure it wasn’t a ferret, or a stoat.
It seemed to be transitioning through some unprecedented event, possibly an incapacity to pass excessive gas, judging by the rhyme and rhythm of its antics. As I watched I sensed it was possibly over thinking how it was going to move forward. It snapped, screamed, kicked and at times walked backwards in its frustrations, caught in a space that offered limited, if any temporary targeted or proportionate opportunities of escape.
I found myself musing on the possibilities of keeping a weasel as a pet, training it, possibly even upskilling its capacities into a new normal? I wondered if this was just a numpty idea. But the concept just kept returning – the notion of reskilling a wild animal.
Success would certainly tick a few of my boxes – imagining a trained, performing weasel providing a circus draw card, leading to substantial future proofing of my rather parlous fiscal outlook, easing mortgage originations and providing a timely break from my unprecedented, structural unemployment status.
I started to consider my capture-techniques and aspirational powers.