Rename Blog - Country Ways

It seems that more and more of my postings are country matter based, so maybe I should change the name. Last night Dominic was cooking dinner, I was in the garage polishing my new mower and Belinda was out riding. Call from Belinda on mobile 'I've come across an injured fox, can't just leave it, can you boys come and sort it out?'
No problem we thought. Now you have to understand that whatever your stance is on wildlife, one has to understand the balance of nature around us. The fox is the enemy in our country, especially with a field full of young lambs next door and pheasant and partridge just starting to nest, so the reaction was to throw the gun in the back of the Land Rover.
However to my suprise, Dom added a thick pair of industrial gloves and a pet carrier.
We drove across the fields to meet Belinda where she had stood guard and to mark the spot. The fox was still there curled in a ball, Dom approached it and she tried to get up and run. It very quickly became apparent that she had an injured hind leg and was going nowhere fast.

She was in fact a vixen cub, no more than 9 weeks old and very beautiful although aggressive as Dom found out when he tried to pick her up, good move bringing the gloves. Needless to say the gun remained in its sleeve, neither of us had the heart to put her out of her misery. She had obviously been hit by a car and had at least a broken rear leg if not pelvis or dislocated hips and no way of knowing if there was internal bleeding. So a decision was made - take her home and if she survives the night then we'll make a decision in the morning.

Now this goes against all our insticts and upbringing, having a fox in captivity!

Well she settled in a large cage in the garage, with an old sheepskin car seat cover, a bowl of water and dog food. This morning we were all eager to see if she had survived the night and were pleased to see she had both eaten and drank all food and water and shit and pissed for England. So what to do with her!

Well I first called a local animal welfare centre, who suggested that I take it to St. Tiggywinles - in Aylesbury, 60 miles away - yeah right, I've really got the time for that and, as I pointed out to the girl on the other end of the really helpful phone that this was a wild animal and she may have mistaken me for someone who actually gives a shit - which I quietly do - so I then called the RSPCA who after wanting to know all my personal details short of my inside leg measurement suggested that I took it to my local vet. My local vet charges £30.00 for just walking throught he door and hates foxes, so that was not an option.

So when I got home from work the first thing I did was check on the cub, so did Dom and so did Bin, half an hour later all three of us are around the cage. The cub is a bit more lively and has ate all food and drink left for the day. She had a tick attached to her lower eyelid wich Bin removed whilst the cub managed to bite through Doms glove.

So we've decided to nurse her back to health and no doubt If she is still alive tomorrow we will give her a pet name. Then we will release her back into the wild (not locally) where she will be shot by a gamekeeper.

C'est la vie