I have three dachshunds. Two minis, Mary & Maizie, and a full size, Monty.

Mary we often call a little wolverine, because she can be vicious when she plays, making the most horrific noises you've ever heard out of any creature, much less someone that looks so absolutely disgustingly cute and adorable.

Her sister, Maizie, is the sweetest, kindest, shyest and nicest creature. Unless she sees a rat. Then it's terrifying. She makes no sound as she runs at full speed, and snaps it up and shakes at the speed of sound. I don't think her feet even touch the ground.

Monty is the biggest baby, he just wants to sleep and cuddle, even when he was a puppy. Unless you touch his mama. I am not allowed to hug my own mother, because he stands there and barks and howls and shoves his body between whoever's touching her and her. Lol.

If anything of them could take a badger it would Maizie, but I don't think even she could.

Also, this was originally supposed to be much shorter and more on topic, but then I had a chance to describe my dogs, and, y'know, muh babies!

I remember learning that after my dad told me stories about badgers near the Minnesota farm where he grew up killing dogs significantly larger than dachshunds and thinking “how the fuck does that work??”

It depends on how many dachshunds you're willing to lose.

Having met dachshunds, and having met American badgers, I'm going to put my bet on "poorly"

A couple hundred years of bred instincts aren't going to save the walking hotdog from the meth bear