Shooting foxes
Grandad January 2nd, 2010
Our family seems to have expanded over the holiday period.
As well as a dog, two guinea pigs, an occasional hedgehog, a squirrel, Bertie the Heron [who I haven’t seen in a while] and a semi-tame wife, I now seem to have a fox.
Reynard first appeared on Christmas night.
I don’t know how the fuck he gets in or gets out, as the fencing here is nearly good enough to keep Sandy from wandering. He’s quite tame and occasionally leers at Sandy through the glass doors. That doesn’t go down too well with Sandy as you might imagine.
I always know when he’s around as he trips all the silent alarms, though he hasn’t discovered the minefield yet.
I have tried photographing him, but the bugger is a bit camera shy and fecks off when he sees me trying to get a shot.
I did manage to get a shot of him last night, while Sandy was trying to tear a hole through the wall beside me. Photographs are silent, so you can’t hear the sound of teeth on concrete, which is probably just as well as it is second only to the sound of a nail being dragged across glass.
It’s not easy shooting foxes.
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