Gladiators

Have you read my comments on the local crows?  Cardboard cat biscuits?  I suggest you do and you will have some background on the entertainment in our backyard earlier this week.

F had fed the crows  (Mr B is still away doing sailing – see other blogs on that subject), and meandered off to get her gear together for a day at work.  It was a slightly warmer morning than we’ve been having of late so she left the patio doors open, and came back to find me calmly watching a fox crunching on the biscuits left out for the crows.

Aside – the crows must have baby crows; instead of eating steadily, they fill their beaks and fly off, and come back later for a second load each.

On their return of course the crows were annoyed to find a fox eating their easy pickings and both sat in the apple tree shouting at it.  The fox didn’t care, so in the end F shooed it away.

And I chased it.

(Secretary note: T clearly isn’t too concerned by foxes, and genuinely did give chase.  However  the tale does not end there.  T would not tell you this himself but he's ‘terrified’ of crows – see earlier blog on crows.  So when, as he passed the apple tree, he in turn became the target of the crows’ scorn he swerved and streaked back into the house.  Whereupon the crows returned their attention to the departing fox, swooped in for the chase, and haried, and harassed it until its tail had disappeared over the back fence and into the undergrowth next door.  Score 1 to the crows I think.)