Kevin called me from the kitchen this morning. I'd just filled the basin with water to wash the breakfast dishes but I went to the dining room window where he was standing. He was watching a fox in the field opposite. That field is hilly and the fox was slinking along over and back in a sort of hollow or dip in the grass. It looked small. After a bit it slipped into the hedge blending instantly with the brown thicket and we went back to our chores. Later I walked the dogs up the dusty track that runs up alongside that field. Bumblebees were foraging in the sun and there was the sweet scent of gorse. I thought of the fox, was she a vixen out scouting for food for cubs, or was it a youngster, its own master, delighting as we were in the warmth of a Spring day.
As a poultry owner I shouldn't like foxes, but I do! I love the rare occasion when I get to watch one.
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