A Visit From Mr. Tod

Our busy morning was interrupted today by a visit from our local fox. The boys heard the geese making a ruckus out back near the blackberry bushes. Will ran to the back window just in time to see a large, red fox snatch one of our ducks and take off for the woods. With adrenaline pumping, he jumped out the back kitchen door - a good 6-foot drop - landed on his feet, and began sprinting after the thief. The rest of us exited the house by various exits and letting up a great hue and cry, chased that old fox until he let go of his prey. The frightened duck hobbled toward us, and we were glad to see that the only wound appeared to be on her right leg. Joey said that the duck had been flapping her wings furiously, and this may have prevented the fox from getting a good hold on her.

We brought her in, and while Edmund and Will rounded up the rest of the birds (all of whom had scattered in a dozen different directions in their fright), and prepared a box for the injured duck, Joey helped me clean the bloody wound and apply some antibiotic ointment. The duck is now resting as comfortably as possible in a box in the kitchen. She is eating and drinking and making sure that the curious cats know their place. But, I watch her with a pessimistic eye.

Our many attempts at nursing helpless, wounded animals seems to end in more sadness than joy. Two hens succumbed this past summer to various injuries - one from a dog attack, another, we think, from the angry rooster. All I can tell the boys is that we tried to make their last hours as comfortable as possible, and like good masters buried them with the dignity they deserve as God's simple creatures. It is never easy.

We have had encounters with foxes in the past. When we first moved here, our chickens ran free for lack of fence. We began noticing trails of feathers and missing birds about a month into our residency. For three days in a row, one hen was culled from the flock - one even at 2 o'clock in the afternoon right outside our door. I began to fear for the kids, and wouldn't let them outside without Laddie .

One afternoon I looked out the kitchen window and saw a fox attacking our rooster. With a shout, I let Laddie out the door and he chased the culprit away. The rooster however was badly injured, suffering deep wounds to his neck which later infected. He died two days later. He must have put up a valiant fight - I have witnessed the protective nature of a rooster many times. We speedily erected a fence around the coop. The next day the fox came again, this time to find the hens safe and secure behind chicken wire. Perplexed, he lay down in the back field and stared for at least a half an hour at those hens. One can only imagine what was going through his small and devious mind. If I had Beatrix Potter's wonderful imagination, perhaps I would write a story...