Monday, 8 November 2010

Foxy, Foxy

So yesterday, Foxy is underneath the bird feeder again. Bold as brass. Middle of the day. Eatin the bird seed.

Yes, Foxy has got a bit of a limp. It stays under the feeder for a long time, moving off when it gets nervous, but coming back each time. It shovels up the spilt bird seed, then sits for a bit in the sun - havin a scratch.

Truth is ... the day before ... I find a very dismembered mammal body. On the grass, but covered with brown day-lily leaves ... so ... deliberately covered. I have to say that I think the victim may have been a small rat - but there's not much left to identify it by - except fur and size. I wonder who could or would do this? A cat? Or the fox? Anyway, I duly bury the remains.

Today The Old Man is chatting on the phone to a friend, and tells him about the foxy visits. The Old Man asks about the covered remains, and Friend thinks Foxy would do this... hiding the "body" and leaving some more "food" for seconds.

Sorry, Foxy. I believe I have buried your dinner. And whilst not being keen on murder and mayhem in the garden, I am a bit anxious at the possible evidence of rat ... and a bit grateful to Foxy for polishing it off in the most useful way.

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