The Brown bomber and his pal, Pinky. The first of many.
He was getting old when I found him and also had broken front teeth, but he was a wily chap. During the winter his hutch would be moved into the greenhouse where he would be allowed out to roam, digging amongst the tomato border.
 A friend of one of my brothers, was looking at him one day and up his trouser leg went bomber, a few scratches was suffered when he was forced out.  The moral of the story is not to let a ferret go up in the first place.