Little & large

The call that came early one wet and cold Saturday morning was a familiar one from a farmer friend who often suffers fox problems.

In a nutshell, he told me that a fox had come in and killed a dozen or so chickens and left just a few survivors. The rest of the 10-minute conversation was made up of expletives and “When do you think you could come over?”

I was meant to be working that day, so I asked if he could leave everything as he had found it and promised to return that evening after work. It’s often the case that a fox will return to the scene of the crime the next night and take whatever’s left from the carnage, so getting back there quickly often gets results.

As it happened, on the way to work