Anna Sayburn has an unsettling encounter
I round the corner of the narrow, unlit alleyway. He’s standing in the middle of the path, staring at me with an unmistakeably territorial challenge. The amber eyes are cool, arrogant. ‘Yes?’ they seem to say. ‘What do you want here?’ There’s a definite air of menace. My heart thuds.
I slow my pace, then stop, uncertain. I consider retracing my steps, going round the long way. But that’s silly, I think. I’m minutes from home, and besides, I’ve known him since he was a baby. I’ve watched him grow up, play-fighting with his brothers and sisters on the patch of grass outside the house.
So I smile, carry on walking. At the last minute he turns tail and disappears into the undergrowth. This time, at least, I’ve won.
Foxes. When exactly did they go from being shy, furtive, nocturnal creatures, to acting like they own the place?
On my way to catch the train in the morning, I pass a glossy fox trotting busily in the other direction, possibly on the way back from the school run.
Coming home, I almost trip over a huge, basking dog fox, snoozing on the pavement in the afternoon sun. At night I lie awake and listen to their children scrapping outside on the verge, letting out horrible blood-curdling screams.
My confrontation in the alleyway happens regularly. I’ve started to suspect the squirrels are tipping them off. ‘She’s on her way – carrying lots of shopping,’ whispers a sentry squirrel. ‘I reckon this time she’ll drop the lot and run.’
I’ve nothing against foxes per se, you know. It’s just – well, they’re not like us. To be honest, they scare me a little. Oh, I know they’re only outside, on our streets and in our gardens. But for how long? Will I come home one day to changed locks, and see through the letterbox the whole family lounging on the sofa, raiding the fridge and watching Chicken Run on the television?
‘They’re just foxes,’ say my friends, giving me odd looks. They may be. But they’re taking over, you mark my words.
Photo by Anna Sayburn
One very warm sunny day, all windows and conservatory doors open, I came downstairs and looked into the sitting room, there was a fox, up on an airchair , trying hard to make a meal of the apple scented pot pourri ! It shot off when it saw me , but the cheek of it ! Have to say we find foxes a complete nuisance, they come into the garden and wreck the plants by lying on them, scratch their mangy fur with the more robust plants, thereby breaking off large portions of the branches, I rather wish foxes would go back to the woods where they came from , I am sure they would be happier.
In my street some small children’s shoes have gone missing…the shoes having been kicked off in order to leap into the paddling pool in the garden, and then forgotten by the end of the day…seemingly have been found and dragged off by the foxes and never seen again.
I can just imagine the baby foxes strutting around after dark displaying their fancy new shoes!
I came home recently to a disgusting smell in the house. On searching around, I found a fox curled up in my cat’s bed! It could only have got in through the cat flap, but seemed much too big to have done so. It has remained a mystery. And I had to wash the bed many times before my distressed cat would return to it.