This time last year I would have said everything on this plate had come from my garden. I can't say this now because I had to buy the eggs. Everything else I grew.
I had to buy the eggs because last summer a fox ripped the throat from every one of my chickens. He burrowed under their run, tore out their throats and made off, leaving me to clear up the carnage.
The fox does this simply because he can. He has no natural predator and can do whatever he likes. And he likes to kill, just for the hell of it.
My brave little cat does his best. I often wake up to the noise of the fight in the catflap, come downstairs and find my cat proudly licking his wounds. Bowed but unbeaten.
Sandal wearing townies should know that a fox will happily tear the throat from any creature that is small, warm, defenceless, and smells of food.
Does that description sound familiar?
It should.
And I hope you're worried enough to do something about it.
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