I set off for the cubs sett early to make sure that I was in position before they emerged, but even so, I was standing next to my tree opposite the sett for only a few minutes before one of the cubs emerged - backwards. It was tustling with the other cub, and after a brief scuffle in the tunnel entrance, they both emerged onto the mound where they continued to scrap with oblivious enthusiasm.

Just as they both rolled off the edge of the mound and fell to the valley bottom, the mother came up and watched them, rather anxiously, as they continued their game for a while. They then moved into the vegetation in the valley bottom and browsed a little, but one soon crossed the boggy ground via the dead tree and scampered up the slope in the direction they took last night. The other was joined by its mother and greeted her with a nuzzle and a "bum-press". Badgers have a scent gland under their tail, and they frequently press their backsides on other members of their clan in order to transfer some of their scent onto them.

Mother and cub continued to browse for a short while, but the first cub came running down the slope, to be greeted by its sibling with another friendly attack with open mouth and shaking head. The pair of them then broke off and dashed back up the slope as they did last night, looking rather like a pair of teenagers off on a night out. Mother followed them more sedately, and rather anxiously, as if worried about whether her offspring were getting into bad company.

I hesitated, wondering what to do. Their behaviour was most unusual, as the family would normally socialise around the sett until around dusk before going off for the night's hunting, but the cubs had dashed off in the same direction almost immediately for two nights in a row. I decided to try to follow them to find out what was going on, rather than stay to watch the remaining adult emerge, and scrambled up the bank as quietly as I could.

There was no sign of the badgers at the top, so I followed the cattle path along the slope which overlooked the flood plain of the Pettypool Brook, on which a herd of cattle were browsing. Two possibilities came to mind. Perhaps they had found a wasp's nest which they had partially destroyed on previous evenings, and they were going to finish the job - it was the right time of year for it. Alternatively, somebody was putting out food for them and straight ahead of me were the nearest buildings, the Old Mill, with Mill Cottage behind it.

I climbed up the slope to the road and walked down to the Old Mill. A public footpath ran around the outside of both properties, and I walked slowly and silently past. I could not see any badgers there, nor could I hear any munching or squabbling noises, so I continued across the footbridge to the other side of the stream and followed the path to where I could scan the slope from where I had come with my binoculars. No sign of the badgers.

Walking back to the road, I examined the fence beside the path with its netting and barbed wire, looking for signs of a run where badgers might habitually cross under it to get to the gardens, but there was nothing. As I walked back up the road, I looked for runs through the hedge on one side and barbed wire fence on the other, again with no success. I returned to the sett, very quietly, but there was nothing to be seen so I retrieved my bike and cycled home.

Arriving at the edge of the village, I came across a hedgehog, standing in the gutter, staring intently across the pavement. As I bowled around the corner, I saw the objects of its attention - four teenage lads sitting around, perhaps discussing the local female talent in the twilight. Do hedgehogs often go people-watching? What do they get out of it if they do? How do they interpret the behaviour which they see? No, I should think it is only the occasional odd character with the mis-placed patience and time to waste which engages in this odd behaviour ...

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