I woke up this morning with great plans. I was going to do another review [now 3 behind] and then I was going to wrestle a particularly difficult chapter of the book into submission. Best laid plans and all that. Now it seems I’m going to have to spend the best part of the day digging a hole to bury a fox.
Before anyone starts picturing me as a vengeful woman with a shotgun – NO! I did not kill that fox. I hate guns, love foxes and have attacks of conscience just killing the odd huntsman [spider] that sneaks inside my house. So it was not me. I haven’t summoned up enough courage to get close to the poor thing but I can’t see any wounds so I don’t think anyone else shot it either. Road kill would have been my next guess but if it was that injured then how did it leap over the fence to get into my backyard? The last and least pleasant possibility is that it was baited. And that is a worry as fox bait would be just as effective against dogs…and there are a lot of dogs in Warrandyte.
So I don’t know what killed that fox or why it’s now lying with its nose pressed up against one of my favourite roses but I do know that digging a hole large enough to bury it is going to be a big job. The fox is not very big – about 1.5 times the size of an adult cat – but the ground here is as hard as a rock so it’s going to be pick and shovel work. And guess who went to the chiropractor just yesterday 😦
And it’s raining….