In olden days the gamekeeper set up his vermin gallows in each of
his big woods. It was to his credit to show that he had killed a
large amount of vermin; on his gallows he wrote his own testimonial.
Nearly all the vermin he killed was duly displayed. But now the day
of the gallows is passing. Keepers have little time to give to the
display; nor do employers always encourage it. The gallows foster
a growing feeling against the destruction of wild life involved by
the preservation of game, and lead to bitter, if often misjudged
attacks. Keepers are contenting themselves with modified forms of
gallows, as the trunk of a tree, to which the heads, tails or claws of
the malefactors are nailed. These small gallows do not speak of the
keeper's successful war-waging in the bold manner of the old-fashioned,
full-measure pattern. But there is much in their favour. As one old
keeper remarked of his tree-trunk gallows, the faint odour was only
enough to set-off the scent of the flowers.
To the gallows comes a varied bag of robbers. The vermin list of a
typical North-country estate included in a recent season 133 stoats,
36 weasels, 62 cats, 98 rats, 115 hedgehogs, 10 hawks, 381 jackdaws,
82 rooks, 23 carrion crows, and 52 magpies--a total of nearly a
thousand head. The rats included would probably only be those caught
incidentally in the vermin traps, not the far greater number killed
during special campaigns by ferret, gun and dog. Hedgehogs are usually
spared the indignity of the gallows. Though a keeper cheerfully
carries a stoat in the pockets of his Sunday coat--and we have known
him in an emergency to put a fox into his pocket--he knows that
to pocket hedgehogs means the entertainment of their numerous and
active dependants. Of cats only the tails are exhibited, and they are
discreetly chosen, the keeper avoiding very striking tails that might
be recognised. It would be bad policy on his part to advertise dead
cats too freely. He has no desire to make enemies.
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