It's a rare treat to see a fox up here.
Different matter when I lived in London.
My garden was like a vulpine Killing Fields.
Every single day there'd be blooded feathery, or furry evidence of something they'd massacred.
There was one really cheeky grey old fox, who used to sit on the sitting room window sill.
You could bang, shout, but he'd still carry on sneering at you, through the glass.
I don't dislike them, and am glad they are no longer hunted.
There are more humane ways, if they need to be controlled.
