Ever since her first visit I've been shutting up the poultry extra early each evening.
On this particular day it had been pouring with rain since dawn so maybe she'd been frustrated in her hunting attempts elsewhere. The rain eased off by tea time.
I went out to shut up the birds around 7.30pm. The bantams, as ever, had already retired for the night. I herded the ducks into the main hen house, where the chickens had already gone to roost and shut up the ducks and chickens in the doghouse pen next door. All as normal.
Lastly, as usual, I went down to the field pen to shut up the nursery.
It was ominously silent. ....
No birds.
Nothing remained but two piles of golden Buff feathers.
Bloody fox.
I cursed and screamed at the pigs. Fat lot of good that did.
Then I realised why one of the ducks in the main hen house was making so much noise. She was the mother of the ducklings. She'd presumably managed to fly away. Sadly she continued looking for her family for the next two days, quacking loudly as she waddled through all the pig pens and surrounding areas.
On the third day Gunner brought her remains to me.
The fox got her too - or it could have been a polecat judging from the carcase.
Not everything in the countryside is green and pleasant.
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