Close encounters of the furry kind

FOXES have been a passion of mine since stumbling across a vixen and her two cubs sunning themselves on a forest bank some 15 years ago.
We had just turned the corner when there she was, a cub sat either side of her and looking very sleepy in the sun’s gentle after-glow.

I fumbled for my camera, but mum had seen us, and barked a warning to her babies: off they went, melting into the dark canopy.
We returned time and again to see if we could spot our foxy friends, but it was never to be.

 Later on that same year we found ourselves back at the wood on Boxing day, only to find the place surrounded by shooters, complete with terrier-men.
I felt sick as we approached the wood: two of them were standing there with their guns at the ready. We stood side by side for a while until a neighbouring farmer came along and asked them what they were doing.
They explained everything and he seemed to accept it.
I was at boiling point, and found myself climbing the gate to enter the wood. One of the gunmen warned us not to risk it but my thoughts were in turmoil: what would happen to the vixen and her cubs?
My maternal instinct kicked in and I uttered some expletive along the lines that nobody was going to stop me from taking a walk. And off I set into the wood. 
I can still remember the feeling of vulnerability. It must be how soldiers felt going into enemy territor. My adrenaline was pumping and the sound of the hunting horn made my stomach turn over. The hound’s excited barks and yelps were ringing in my ears and it wasn't long before they were racing past us, some bleeding from wounds caused by thorns.
A huntsman scrambled down a bank close to us and was speaking into his walkie-talkie. They were onto a fox but I could do nothing: I felt utterly useless.

We left the forest and decided to walk the other side of the valley. I couldn't stop thinking about those foxes, and with my mood unchanged, Bob decided we should call it a day.
 Dusk was close, so I agreed - but only if we could go back to the forest to see if the hunt had left.
They hadn't! In fact they were digging out a fox gone to ground. I felt myself screaming: I screamed so much I lost my voice for the next few days.

Judi with Basil the fox

It was after that fateful day that I became the campaigner I am today.
I made it my duty to study foxes because if I was going to defend them, I needed to know everything about them.
I went fox watching (sometimes out all night) and I would read everything I could about them. Even now on our various walks I am still mindful to check out the faeces of foxes to see what they've been eating.
 There is so much you can learn about foxes just by studying their droppings. 
Since that time, I have had the odd encounter with foxes, but one of my most memorable was coming face-to-face with a fox cub.
It happened while we were driving back from a wilderness walk: we had to stop to avoid running it over.
I jumped out of the car to catch a glimse of it running down the field. I thought it might be still hiding in the far hedge, so I waited for it to break cover.
I stood silently for a few minutes: still nothing, until something made me look down - there was the cub, looking straight back at me, nose to nose.
It was like it was happening in slow motion.
We just stared at one another for what appeared to be minutes, yet it was only seconds.
I turned to call my husband, but when I looked back, the cub was gone. 

The only other fox I had ever been that close to was Basil, a 10-year-old dog fox, cared for by Shiela Stewart from Capricorn Animal Rescue.
Poor Basil was the sole survivor of an attack by terrier-men who left him for dead after they killed his mother and siblings.

Well, that's it - criticise me if you like, that's what blogs are all about!
But you will never persuade me that foxes need to be controlled. I have two cockerals and I have family and friends that keep poultry (my sister keeps sheep as well).
If you protect your birds you need never fear the fox. I'm not saying foxes are angels, there's no denying they can be a rare pest!
But no animal deserves to be abused for fun.