This spring we have seen the arrival of some new neighbours, a family of foxes. We have watched them grow from very small fuzz ball foxes to now almost fully grown foxes.
On one side we have a neighbour that is fearful that they will attack; “Get rid of them! Call the council! I know of someone who knew someone who knew someone who got bitten by a fox in 1974.” On the other side we have another neighbour with a bit more of a live-and-let-live attitude; “It’s a pain they are digging up my garden but they’ll be gone by July.” The garden they live in is an overgrown jungle. Where once were lawns is now a tangle of blackberries and thistles. That neighbour has rejected true suburban values such as lawn mowing and, as a result, has created a haven of biodiversity.
Kiran’s attitude to the foxes has mellowed somewhat. From a “They must be gorton rid of” attitude to a “They are quite cute really” stance. She still lives in fear of attack and as a result fears putting washing on the line. Or is that an excuse to delegate they chore? Do they attack.
I think they are pretty harmless. They startle easily. I am interested to know what they eat. A pigeon here, maybe one of those crows that look like they can open a wheelie bin lid with their beak. Maybe our neighbour is feeding them.
Tales in suburbia. Fox tails. Or maybe it’s a sign that I’m bored here. Time to read Fantastic Mr Fox to the kids me thinks. It’s a Ms Mrs or Miss though.
