The Peculiar Death of Mr. Fox

09:23.17 - Wednesday 24th September 2003   (Link to This Entry)

On my travels yesterday I paid a visit to a friend of mine who I'd previously rented a house from - they're also good friends of M and were instrumental in getting us together.

While having a natter about houses, windows and computer bits, their youngest son Tom comes in all breathless and asks if I want to see a dead fox, "because I know where there is one!" - in that confiding manner particular to young children who have found their first icky.

Turns out that there was indeed a dead fox on the field at the back of their property. Nothing major to report about it, no blood or obvious signs of trauma, no vomiting. Rigor Mortis had set in and I think was starting to ease, but the flies and crows hadn't found it yet. All in all I reckon it had only been there 12 hours.

In the end I found a garden glove (hey, would you want fleas?) and carried it by the tail over the the side of the field where there's a ditch seperating it from the neighbouring golf course. We threw it in there and it went in at the second attempt (after bouncing back off the nigh-impenetrable bushes and landing with a sickening thud at my feet) and left it to rot.

Tom will probably go poke it with a stick later.