I had one of my periodic fox raids this evening. I went out to close up the hens and found a black hen dead in front of one of the henhouses. Further searching revealed two Marans dead in the next field, a Light Sussex pullet and a Barnvelder cockerel slain in the adjoining wood and the feathers of a brown hen - of which there was no trace. This is typical of a fox - he'll kill all he can and make of with just one. Many cold evenings ahead now, lying in wait for him - he'll definitely call again - last time it took twelve nights until I got him.
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good luck on catching it , how do you plan to get it ???
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Last time, I found where he was crossing the stone ditch, and lay in wait for him there every evening, hidden under a furze bush. I saw him a couple of times, but not close enough to get a clean shot, but eventually he walked right in front of me - end of problem! I was out at first light this morning, and found this fellow's run - it wasn't too hard as he pulled a Maran under the sheep wire with him at a little dip in rhe ditch. Now it's a question of patience.
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Nature is both red in tooth and claw. The trouble with Foxes is that they don't just kill one chicken and take it away to eat, this makes sense. They kill indiscriminately and then leave the corpses behind, this doesn't make sense.
I hope you get it soon."A garden is a friend you can visit any time."
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Originally posted by Elijay View PostNature is both red in tooth and claw. The trouble with Foxes is that they don't just kill one chicken and take it away to eat, this makes sense. They kill indiscriminately and then leave the corpses behind, this doesn't make sense.
I hope you get it soon.
Sadly its nature, we had a fox attack last year and it was heart breaking.Atomic Apple Design
"It is a cliché that most clichés are true, but then like most clichés, that cliché is untrue."
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It's all part of life - and death. I don't bear the fox any ill-will for what he did. The way I look at it, the hens are entitled to get their living and that involves killing worms, grubs etc.; the fox is also entitled to get his living and that involves killing my hens; and I'm entitled to get my living - and unfortunately that involves killing Mr Fox when he treads on my toes! Actually I like foxes, and I don't begrudge them the odd hen or so, but this fellow is a bit of a boyo - I know very well that he'll keep coming for more until I put a stop to him.
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vulpes vulpes r.i.p.
I got him. I crawled under a furze bush at 8pm. I was just going to call it a night at 9 o'clock - just more or less dark - when I saw him coming towards me across the field. I stayed as still as a stone till he was what I judged close enough, cocked the hammer (my gun is a very old -but very good- single barrel) and took aim. When I cocked the hammer he stopped in his tracks and looked at me. That was the last thing he saw. BANG! He went down like you'd hit him with a sledge. An "0" cartridge. I carried him down to the house and weighed him: 13-and-a-half pounds, a dog fox.
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