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What do you know about the grief associated with losing a pet to a fox? As I sit and write this, my mind drifts back to the events of Thursday 6th November 2003 and the surprise that I recall feeling upon getting up to investigate the quacking of our two pet "Call" ducks.
For those of you who are familiar with the 9 standardized and half-dozen or more non-standardized types of Call duck listed by the British Wildfowl Association in 1999, one was a "Grey" or "Mallard" and the other was a "Bibbed" duck.
So intense is the irritation caused by this mite, that foxes are reputed to have gnawn off appendages!Anyhow, looking out of my dining room window, I saw the Bibbed duck (named Flick - the brown duck in the photo on the left) lying almost motionless on the netting of our fishpond, pinned down by an adolescent fox.Shouting “” or some such -- admittedly slightly more explicit -- harangue, I shot through the kitchen and flew out of the back door shouting at the top of my lungs.Now, had I been thinking clearly I would’ve gone back into the house, got the telescopic loppers and hacked my way through the undergrowth something akin to the great Scottish Missionary Dr David Livingstone.However, I was concerned that the fox may return in my absence, and I was damned if I was going to just leave Flick there to die from his injuries.
Fortunately, it had not punctured his air sac (lungs) or he would’ve died almost immediately.