There are badgers in Nowhere Wood. For the first time, we think. This is their February story.
Imagine living in a dark world shaped by scent, vibration and touch — where wind carries stories and the air itself guides you back to the mouth of your sett. A world of kinship and inherited ground. Of rival clans pressing at territorial edges. Of sudden violence in the margins between families.
Imagine spending each day feeding on the earth itself. Earthworms drawn from damp soil; fallen fruit when it ripens; carrion when it is found — but mostly worms. Reliable food, abundant in spring when the ground softens and the night stays wet.
The animals emerging at night to feed and play-fight — no claws unsheathed, no teeth bared — are likely subadult males. They circle, shoulder, and grapple in the leaf litter, testing strength without drawing blood. In time they will disperse, edging beyond the safety of their natal territory and pressing at the boundaries of neighbouring clans.
The breeding females remain underground. Late winter is the season of birth: cubs lie blind and furred in the nesting chambers, sustained by milk and warmth. We must wait several weeks before they appear above ground, tentative in the dusk outside the sett.
We will follow the badgers through their year, as they explore their new world of scents and smells.
- How can badgers live safely alongside people?
Subterranean superheroes
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