Thursday, 22 November 2007

Being Foxed.

A few weeks ago I gave you the saga of the mice, which quite frankly was bad enough, now a bigger, hairier problem has emerged from the undergrowth...

A fox! Not a rustic fox, but a townie invader!

Lots of us townies have escaped to the country, but unlike us, this unwelcome visitor has evil intentions. Apparently 130 town foxs have been dumped here this year - which really begs the question WHY?

We are really lucky and have adorable neighbours, now minus their adorable chickens, and I fear Foxy has it’s eye on our hens for his next feast.

This fox is something else, it waits on our drive to jump out on the children, and saunters through the garden as if he pays the mortgage - even the dog is too frightened to go out! (Ok, so the dog isn’t what one could call substantial, but she’s game!). Today the cat came home with holes in her head - just the right size for fox fangs!

So in these days of political correctness, what do you do when when Mister Fox is dumped on your doorstep?

I don’t believe in hunting, so it may sound two faced to say that Foxy’s got to go ....

....but here we are, utterly bloodthirsty, we won’t be content until foxy is no more...

But how? Foxes aren’t labelled cunning for nothing - answers in brown envelopes please!