of foxes and other things

This was going to be a first post about how we'd spent the weekend having a lovely relaxing time in the garden, planting and planning.

But instead it's about being woken up my husband early, taking the dog out before heading off for work, to the news that we'd had a visit from the fox. After almost eight years of chicken keeping in our back garden it comes as no surprise but what a disappontment. We trudged out (me in pjs and slippers) to inspect the damage. He had already cleared up the worst of it and the two of us looked around in case one or two had taken refuge in the trees but of course they hadn't. Three were fine:one broody had been shut in a wire basket overnight to cool her down, one really tiny little bantam always roosts in the rafters of the chicken house (and she is my daughter's dearest pet, thank goodness she was safe) and one, well I reckon she just got lucky. Four are buried in the area behind the hedge on the edge of the field over which we overlook. Not much to bury really.

I do so hate the fox. Two and a half years ago he (she?) took my daughter's tiny pet rabbit. I was working away and I can never forget the phone call from her on the train 'mummy, where is Toby hiding? You know where he likes to go. He's not in his hutch and there is his fur everywhere. He must be frightened without me' . I cried my eyes out (the Swansea to Paddington train) - the first time I couldn't fix a problem faced by my beloved. Of course he was gone, the fox must have had him the previous night but in the rush to get her to school my husband hadn't noticed. And last night it was back, this time for the tiny bundles of feathers that my child picks up and carries in her arms and sings to. Last Friday she was showing her friend how to pick them up and put them on their backs to calm them down when they are frightened. She demonstrated how we had clipped their wings (sorry chicks) to stop them flying into the garden to eat the plants. She sang her special chicken song. Damn them.


So I went back to the house, woke her up and took her to my room. I said that I had some sad news for her. Her eyes were open wide immediately despite the late night she'd had. I told her that the fox had visited and four chickens had been eaten but that Darling Chick Chick , Spice and the wyndotte were ok. She cried. She opened her eyes and told me that there was some good news because each of the children still had a chicken living (I have two step children) and that was good wasn't it? Then we talked about how we wouldn't have many eggs for a while and considerd how we could replace the chickens. Just the last weekend we met a neighbour who had hatched chickens from fertilised eggs and we thought abut that, but what if they are cockerels (we have long had a promise to our neighbours not to keep one as they are a little noisy for them). But we shall look into it. I hate the fox.