While I have absolutely no need to go out and hunt foxes, stalk deer, shoot my food or kidnap fish with a fishing rod - I simply go to a supermarket or The Bollo - I have friends who do enjoy hunting, fishing and shooting.
Apparently it is within the law to use hounds to flush the fox out; at which point a gunman may be deployed to shoot the fox.
In this particular case, the Telegraph reports: “Mr Wright had situated a marksman on a quad bike close to where the fox was hiding so that it would be shot as soon as possible after being flushed out. However, he was forced to give chase when the fox managed to flee. Judge Cottle said: “This case has led us to the conclusion that the relevant law is far from simple to interpret or apply.”
We have quite a few foxes in West London. I see them quite often on my way home from the pub. They have worked out that I am no threat to them, stare at me when I whistle at them, and then wander off.
Any fox hunters out there?
Filed under: Charon
I have a fox that comes into my garden. I think she is a female. I feed her with scraps and dog food (although I am told that cat food is better).
She is a brave little creature. One evening I was sitting in my study when I heard a noise. I ought to explain that I live in a four-storey town house, my study and bedroom being on the third floor. I went out to hear footsteps padding lightly down the stairs. I followed and discovered a suede chukka boot in the hall to my kitchen. I went upstairs again to find that my other boot had gone. The foxy lady.
Now my question is, did she walk off with both boots and drop one as she realised that I was following her, or did she take one and, finding that so delightful, return through the kitchen, up the first flight of stairs to the main entrance hall, then up the second flight to my bedroom? I don’t know.
My fox has a fetish, or perhaps just a penchant, for leather. I discovered the leather end to one of my pairs of braces, on trousers hanging over the end of my big brass bed, has been chewed through. My first experience was when I found a broad leather kilt belt in the garden just in front of the fence that separates the paved area from the grass and trees at the back.
Perhaps I should put out my other chukka boot for her. It’s a bit cold to leave the kitchen door open all the time. Besides, a moderately old pair of suede chukka boots is one thing, I don’t want her wandering off with other items of footwear and the like. She is quite shy but stares at me when I put food out for her. She is a considerable delight as my two greyhounds are presently in Denmark. They are not so polite. The male, in particular, knows no difference between himself and others. This causes him to push the female off sofas and other flat spaces that she, Yudith, is already lying on. She dislikes this and barks aggressively at him. When I am in bed he insists on lying not just next to me, which I don’t mind, but actually flings his massive 36 kilo frame on top of me., usually with his tail uncharmingly stuck in my face. He was not castrated when we ‘rescued’ him from a Danish breeder. He has a somewhat deformed ankle that gives him no trouble but makes him stand like a sort of ballet dancer. Occasionally he rolls over on his back, probably to push me off the small area of bed that he has not commandeered. This is probably a way of adding insult to injury, as if I had testicles as large as his in proportion to our respective weights, I should have to have my suits re-tailored as they woukld be the size of lage grapefruit.
Yudit has a kink in her tail and there is some missing fur at the end. One day when I returned home she wagged her tail so hard that she cracked the dry skin at the tip of her tail and sprayed blood all over the hall, the staircase, the bedroom, a fair number of books, a few ties and about six shirts. She was clearly in no pain but the place looked as if a massacre had been committed.
Sometimes I ask myself why I like animals but that’s quickly solved when I look at most human beings. Yeas ago an ex-girl-friend of mine (we are still good friends) and her new boyfriend gave me two piranhas as a birthday present. I am not sure what this was trying to tell me. I still have the tank — a bargain at £50 if anyone’s interested.
Best wishes,
Richard
(at 0500, as I can’t sleep)