Last night, Paul and I went to visit the local chicken farm in an attempt to nail a fox that has killed quite a lot of chickens lately. Unfortunately, we saw nothing except some rats, so we moved on. A couple of miles up the road we parked up on another farm, with Paul going off to the left, while I went off to call on the ground to the right.

Using the track labelled as ‘Red fox pup distress call’ – which I think sounds much more like subordinate foxes fighting, I called in a large dog fox. It came in from the far end of the field but was very wary, constantly looking out for trouble. It ran around until it was downwind of the  caller, some 150 yards out and then sat back on its haunches to see what was going on before coming any closer. That was good enough for me, and a second or so after it stopped moving one of my .204 rounds knocked it flat. When I got to it, I was surprised to see that it only had a short stump for a tail. What caused the injury – which must have happened a long time ago, I can’t say.

Paul and I then drove about half a mile onto a third farm where I brought in two foxes using the same ‘fighting foxes’ call. Both came in from different directions at the same time – Paul shot one which then disappeared over a rise in the ground, while I dropped the other. When we realised that nothing else was going to come to the caller, we went out to collect the carcasses. Mine was lying where I shot it (another large dog), but we never found Paul’s. Presumably it expired in the deep undergrowth which borders the field we were in.

On our way home, we called in at the first farm again, but there was still no sign of Charlie. Sadly, I don’t expect to get out much this week as it’s mizzling now and the forecast is for rain every evening until Friday…

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