n Life and vole of the party: John Blashford Snell’s latest installment

Renowned international explorer Colonel John Blashford-Snell writes for the New Blackmore Vale magazine and tells how his encounter with a water vole in his garden prompted the formation of the very exclusive Vole Club

The skylarks sang, the hedgerows were alive with buds and the vegetation around our pond was beginning to rival the jungle from which I had recently returned. Seizing my trusty strimmer I went into battle. Suddenly an extraordinary thing happened. As the flaying cords sliced through the tangled grass, a small brown furry beastie wearing a surprised expression sat up in front of me. Then it leapt a good yard to land in the water with a loud “plop” and disappear. “’E be a water vole,” commented old Bert when later in the Royal Oak I mentioned my encounter. “Quite rare these days.” A couple of pints of Best Badger later, Bert confided: “Folk say vole strimming were practised by village lads round here on St Swithans day in times past.” Several octogenarians joined us and stories of North Dorset voles came thick and fast. There had been plagues of voles and a cottage near a stream had collapsed into a massive vole burrow. “There were vole pie too,” muttered a retired hedge layer, smacking his lips on the froth of his ale. Exhausted by reminiscing, the company became maudlin. “They says on wireless that bloody minks terminating ’em.” “Tis sad,” all agreed, “Shan’t see Ratty much longer”. Next day Sir Tom Lethbridge and a few friends, many of them hatters and tailors plying their trade around St James’s, lunched at Davy’s wine bar. As the claret circulated conversation turned to the demise of the countryside. All knew Ratty of The Wind in the Willows and deplored the little fellow’s impending doom. Fuelled by copious claret our anguish grew and spontaneously it was decided to form The Vole Club. It would meet regularly, enjoy claret and discuss voles. Tom was elected chairman, Mark Pattison, who is good on claret, became secretary and in view of my first hand encounters with the beasts, I was made president. At midsummer the club met at my home in deepest Motcombe. The pond, resplendent with bull rushes was proving an ideal vole sanctuary. Here the charming creatures occasionally appeared sitting on a floating plank, whilst brushing their whiskers. When alarmed they would hop into the water with a ‘plop’, the only sound I could attribute to them. The members, now aptly named Vole-unteers, turned up in blazers, boaters and Panamas to picnic beneath a spreading walnut. The cork had just flown from a magnum of Moet & Chandon when a car came up the drive and out stepped a serious young man devoid of St James’s attire. “Is this the meeting of the Vole Club?” he asked with an air of authority. Guilty looks passed twixt the members... were we breaking the law? Perhaps he’d seen the ancient cannon that pointed across the pond with a sign reading: “Mince a mink and save a vole.”

TALES OF THE RIVERBANK: John Blashford-Snell with a Vole bust

HERE’S ONE: Professor Alastair Driver from the Environment Agency with Ratty

Sir Tom shifted his Panama a fraction and admitted that we were. “I’m Alastair Driver,” replied the newcomer, “from the Environment Agency and I’d like to join.” Somewhat relieved, the secretary thrust a glass of bubbly into his hand. “Where are the voles?” enquired Alastair. “The pond!” chorused the company and having fortified himself he disappeared into the bullrushes. An hour later he emerged, rather muddy, smiling broadly. “You really do have voles –look, I’ve found a turd!” Mark took the opportunity to refill glasses and toast the conservation officer’s success. So it was that this slightly eccentric group was persuaded to devote its efforts to the preservation of Ratty. The club expanded, ladies were admitted (provided they were vole-uptuous) and we discussed defending voles with shotgun vole-leys and even high vole-tage fences. Members were recommended to drive Volevos and a splendid tie was produced.

Furthermore, funds were raised to aid the reintroduction of water voles in carefully selected sites as part of a national conservation plan. Some 24 were released at the

Wildfowl and Wetland Trust’s Centre at Barnes and a hundred in Devon. Voleunteers were also encouraged to adopt a vole – for a mere £100! The fight to save Ratty goes on, so don’t be surprised if you come across well-dressed people greeting each other in Dorset with fists raised in salute and cries of “Ja Vole”.

Be specific and scientific with a series of café talks

Fancy finding out more about the world of science but don’t want to go back to school? The Castle Cary Café Scientifique could be the perfect solution! According to its organisers, Café Sci is a place where, in an informal café-style setting, there are free monthly talks and debates about the latest thinking in science and technology from researchers and experts. A spokesman said: “The audience is decidedly nonexpert and the talks are aimed at anyone who would like to know more about the developments that will impact our future, with a distinctly local and social feel. Attendees can join in the debate and meet like-minded people.” This is the first such venture in rural Somerset and, say organisers, is well supported by the academic and industrial community with a fascinating line-up of speakers confirmed. The first session will see Professor James Ladyman of Bristol University discussing science as a complex system and debating the very nature of science itself. It will set the stage for an intriguing set of sessions which will take place on the second Tuesday of every month from October to June. The first Café Sci takes place on October 17 at 7pm at The Market House, Castle Cary. n Details from Colleen Bower on 07375 890751.

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