See: Vole Patrol 3: Baiting Traps

At quarter to seven this morning we wrapped up well against the cold, on a beautiful clear day, the crescent moon glowing in the southeastern sky, and gathered at the hut. After a welcome cup of tea, we picked up haversacks full of boxes of bait balls, a little bag of apple slices and another of maggots, and a rubbish sack. We trooped off down the reserve to inspect the traps arrayed around the wood, meadow, and pond.

A Song Thrush sang loudly and beautifully from the Willow Carr thicket.

In the anthill meadow, trap M3 showed unmistakable signs of a mammal visit spilling from the entrance.

Another of the meadow traps caused a flurry of excitement. The trapdoor was up! Had we somehow caught a mammal, despite checking that all the trapdoors were locked down? Huma carefully opened the trap in a large plastic bag to prevent escape. There was nothing inside. Probably the trap had been left with the door closed.

Back in the hut, still with surgical gloves on, we mixed up more bait and rolled it into balls. The little boxes that protect the bait balls in the haversacks are on the table.