Fred's story

 

Firstly let me say I have no quarrel with responsible breeders who know what they're doing, have taken the time to research genetics, have a line of good homes waiting and a buy back/ support for life policy.

 

For others considering breeding their ferrets this year, especially first time or inexperienced owners before you do so let me tell you Fred's story 

 

Fred (Winifred) and her sisters Mary and Sarah were rescued from a truly vile place from very unworthy people, all thought to be pregnant. As there were 3 of us involved in the rescue, the girls were split accordingly, 3 pregnant Jill's with potentially 30+ kits would be too much for any one of us to deal with. 

It transpired that both Fred and Mary were with kit however Sarah was fortunate  - she wasn't pregnant and was able to enjoy her new life from day one.

Fred settled into her new home, a big 6' single level hutch i had bought specifically for her nursery and she made her nest out of lots of squares of fleece that I had cut up for her.I assumed her previous diet had probably been poor so from the very start she had lactol, duck soup, as much fresh meat mice, and chicks that she would eat and was supplemented twice a week with SA 37.

She was a good little girl, was very obliging and used her litter tray, never bit, ate and drank everything offered,and her stomach grew accordingly.

I had secretly longed for kits - I would never breed myself, all my ferrets are neutered but I relished in the thought of a little fuzzy family, I had read up everything I could lay my hands on,taken advice from an extremely knowledgeable and respected breeder, I was thoroughly enjoying the whole experience and preparation of the forthcoming birth and dreamt of fat little babies rolling around in the sunshine.I felt Fred and i really bonded during this initiation period, though if she could talk i wonder if she would say the same – or if i was a massive nuisance to her!

 The news soon came  that Mary had given birth, 9 little newborns brought to the world! I was so thrilled for her and her foster mum that the birth had gone well, and was incredibly exited as Fred's babies must be imminent!

We waited and waited, 10 days after Mary on the 44th day of her arrival at 10 am in the morning on 23rd May Fred had a "show ".

I left her to it not wanting to disturb her, rushed madly around Tesco to kill some time

An hour and a half later I checked in on her again to see how she was doing. She was sitting in her bed proudly nursing 8 little babies, it was a wondrous sight to behold and tears of joy was streaming down my face, I've never felt so proud of her as at that moment!

I had to sit on my hands for the next 2 weeks,id sworn to myself that i would not attempt to touch or be over vigilant of the babies, petrified that something untoward would happen.I would check her twice a day to feed and change her litter tray, have a listen at the bedroom door for squeaks, the whilst she was having her ferretone or soup i would quickly open the door to peek, never touching, do a quick head count then leave them be,I dont think Fred even realised I had looked.

To be honest for the first couple of weeks they all worried me silly, was Fred getting enough to eat, were the babies feeding ok, were they too warm, too hot, enough bedding, too much bedding....the list was endless.Somehow i managed to get through those first 2 weeks without having a nervous breakdown,although i think i came close on a couple of occasions!!

On day 16 came the first weigh ins and sexing,Fred was quite happy to let me hold one of her precious bundles at a time,a quick pop in warmed scales then back to the nest.She’d also managed to achieve the ultimate balance too, 4 little girls and 4 little boys – simply perfect!

The next couple of weeks rolled into a 3 day cycle of weigh ins and increased handling,constant feeding and cleaning  - boy could they eat!!!! And inevitably it all came out the other end....They were good days, the weather was warm and we would sit with the babies on a blanket on the grass as they grew bigger and fatter whilst Fred had some well deserved “me” time playing in the run with one of us, it was then i realised how truly young she was, she was little more than a kit herself and was a delight to watch as she danced and dooked, tying herself in knots as she enjoyed her freedom from motherly duties,it was always with a twinge of sadness i put her back with the babies,she should have had more time playing and dancing with ferrety friends, not forced into motherhood at a much too tender age.No reflection on her parenting skills, she was a doting loving mother,but she also was a mad young thing that had had her kit time taken away from her.

The babies grew and grew,but something wasnt right.I think i was in slight denial, making excuses that they were slow learners, we had babied them too much....but looking back it was obvious there was problems.They struggled to walk – all of them. They got around but it wasnt with the bounce of youth.They werent “swimmers” but their little legs didnt seem to want to work properly.They looked young, far younger than they were, this was confirmed when I met their cousins, just 10 days older but eons ahead of them – and i was worried.I started to notice too as they grew spines were starting to twist and rib cages protrude, some more noticable than others, the odd leg at a funny angle...or was it just the way he was laying??...a vets visit was definitely in order.

 I made an appointment and  took the little boy i was most concerned about to the vet to be checked, expecting to be told he had a vitamin defiency or he was just a slow learner, he would have an injection and everything would be fine....nothing was further from the truth.

We were blessed at the time with a very knowledgeable conscientious vet, lacking in beside manner but well outweighed by his expertise.After he had thoroughly examined the little lad and looked at me with empathy in his eyes i knew there was a serious problem.

Our little baby boy had an extreme genetic deformity, his spine was becoming severely curved causing the protrusion of his rib cage, his heart was in the wrong place, he only had one lung, it was a miracle that he had been born alive and had made it this far...but his little body could not push itself anymore, with his erratic heart, ribs and back pushing on his tiny lung it would be a matter of days... and he would start to suffer. 

I was convinced it must have been me, id done something wrong, or not enough, and i would do anything, absolutely anything to help this little man overcome this, there had to be a magical injection or surgical procedure that could help him.

The vet patiently explained to this now near hysterical woman sobbing pitifully cradling a little curled up bundle of fur that there was nothing that could be done, the problem was neurological,had manifested as physical and had been caused by inbreeding, most likely over many generations -  this was the end of his journey.

To have a 6 week old kit PTS was one of the hardest things i have done, the entire staff and other clients were in tears, all crying for this poor little baby who had his light extinguished through no fault of his own but that of ignorant uncaring selfish humans who would not give a damn, about him, his siblings or his mother.

Baby boy was helped to the bridge that day with much love and gentleness and laid to rest under the apple tree, where he is remembered every day.

An appointment was made for the next day for the others to be checked over, i walked up the steps with them rolling and squeaking merrily in the carrier as they played with a sense of foreboding and dread.

Each one was examined thoroughly in turn and i died inside a little more each time as the vet looked at me and shook his head as he handed one back and reached for the next. His recommendations were brief but concise – in his opinion they all should be put to sleep. Each and everyone had the same - albeit in varying degrees.

I could never really describe how i felt at that moment, i know there are those that would say well they are only animals blah blah blah but my little world collapsed then and there, i wept for them, for Fred, for me and for all the kits that would be born that year into uncaring homes and end up unwanted or worse – hurt and raging i came out fighting. I asked him to give me a month,if they got worse during that time obviously i would do the right thing, they could be re-examined and we could take it from there.

Fred was starting to make it clear that as far as she was concerned she had done her job and it was time to move on.After 3 successful escape attempts on her part we separated her from them, she moved in very happily with one of our groups and we concentrated on the now 8 week old babies.

I was extremely fortunate, a close friend had already chosen a little lad and lass  prior to the knowledge of their problems and still wanted to have them. In the hope that having “normal” youngsters around them might encourage them to be more mobile I had 2 of their cousins to stay with us and a young lady and gent of mine went to lodge with their surrogate aunt – who fell in love with them almost instantly and decided to keep them. The owners of our local rescue fell in love with one very round little boy and he went to live with them as theirs with some kits they had hand reared from 10 days old, and i kept the 2 worst ones, both little girls who were the image of their mum.

And so the work began, hydrotherapy on a daily basis, encouraging as much movement as possible and trying to keep their little brains active, ferretone bribes and plenty of cuddles...and it worked – for all of them!

Gradually reports came in of things “clicking” into place, almost overnight for some, a little bit longer for others but eventually and within the month they were all walking,standing, dancing and dooking – there were a few other issues with teeth and the indiscriminate use of, with both them and their cousins which is also attributed to their neurological make up, more serious and erratic than usual kit biting but with love and patience that to has been almost overcome,but most importantly they are happy, well loved and alive!

I cannot thank enough the wonderful caring people who took on these little bundles, not knowing the outcome but worked tirelessly to bring out the best in them, but for them it could have been a very different and much more tragic story.

Fred is doing well and loving life, making up for lost time her war dance is a delight to behold,however when she sees her daughters she has no interest in them whatsoever, i though that there might be a spark of recognition but there is none, i think she has packed that chapter of her life well and firmly away and most certainly lives for the now.

I still see all the youngsters from time to time and they are a real credit to their owners,whose dedication made all things possible for these babies and i thank my lucky stars that the all found such loving caring homes.

I will weep and rage over the no doubt hoards of kits that will be indiscriminately bred this year for a quick buck, ignorance,lack of husbandry or because fluffy babies seem like a good idea......and i will break my heart when i go to the rescue and see numerous little faces peering out between the bars waiting to be loved the way so many of us love ours.

I dont really know why i wrote this – or even if it will be read, all i can say is please think carefully before breeding your ferret,its not as easy as boy meets girl and there can be a lot of heartache both along the way and after. Good homes are not easy to find, food, meat, litter and vets bills mount up quickly. Would I ever breed my ferrets - not a snowflakes chance in hell!!