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Chatting with the mayor yesterday; she asked if we had any problems with foxes. No, I said, buzzards cause us grief but we've not seen a fox.
Got home and there is Renard dragging one of our Coq de Peche hens across the lawn. Abuse was hurled, hen was abandoned, ****y was off through the woods.
We rounded the birds up early last night but in the excitement I left the duck coop open. This morning the drake has gone...grrr! And my bloody fault which makes it worse.

This morning we've re-fenced everywhere and are setting a duck-baited trap tonight. One thing I've worked out: we have it all wrong, chicken wire was actually invented by chickens to control us. Trouble is that the only thing that'll stop it is either death or turning the garden into an avian Guantanamo.

So, death it is, then. Time to offer a bounty to the local hunt: a bottle of whiskey or Pastis for the chasseur who brings me the pelt of Johnny the Fox. Tempt them into real pest control rather than just shooting tasties like boar and deer.

I may not be the boss but I'm higher up the food chainĀ  than you, chicken
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I may not be the boss but I'm higher up the food chainĀ  than you, chicken
Reply