A Fox. Now that's one bold creature these days... and everywhere as well. More than once, they've woken me up at night plundering the bins outside my flat. Lot different to when I was a kid growing up in the country; if I'm honest, I don't think I actually saw one then, they were so timid and shy. Look at 'em now, they're full on, inventive, and undoubtably full of energy.

A friend told me how one had destroyed part of her garden fence. Someone else I know complained bitterly about them tunneling into their herbaceous borders. But what about this one. Another friend wanders out of the house deep in the small hours to put the bins out ready for collection the next day. In the darkness is a dull shape, which looks like their old tabby, he sticks out a hand to stroke it... and gets a fistful of fox tail. Who blinked first? Yeah, the human. Reynard, apparently, stared at him for a moment or two, then sauntered off into the gloaming. Left quite an aroma behind.

Are n't they something?