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I say, I say, I say, my fox has no tail. Your fox has no tail? How does it ... erm ... well, you get the idea.No, it has no tail, well, just a stump really. Our other regular visiting fox has a big bushy tail, and a third, occasional visitor has

is the most pleasant to work with. It was eminent English physician George Cheyne (1671-1742) who said something along the lines that the Creator had deliberately made horse dung smell so sweet, because he knew that mankind would oft be in its presence. Cow

and they saunter past without a care. One sniffed at the guinea-pig hutch, then squeezed through the gap in the fence and was gone.We city dwellers have a soft spot for these animals. For most of us, foxes are probably the most impressive wildlife we ever see

A few days ago a fox vaulted over the fence and landed on the two cats asleep just outside the back door. Fur flew. The poor beast didn't stand a chance. It stopped half way up the lawn and turned to see what exploding ammunition dump it had fallen

I think we have foxes living under our garden shed. I first noticed the scratching in the soil a week or so ago. It didn't look like very much excavation had occured and the hole didn't appear to go very far. But now we have more earth-moving going

of the leaves when I spotted a ruddy brown bundle next to the ivy thicket. There was a fox asleep on the roof of the shed.It turned its head towards me as I cracked open the casement to take a picture. Not a very good one, I have to admit, I need a telephoto

inquisitive and it is not unusual to find whiskered rodent features peering in through the transparent perspex flap. Luckily none of them have quite worked out what to do next.The fox was also poking about in the snow on Saturday. It was gingerly mincing

I used to see foxes all the time. Whenever I looked out of the window there was almost certainly one sniffing about in the garden or strolling nonchalantly down the street. Winter nights were alive with the unearthly yelps and screams of the males

on. All I could see was the squirrel’s back end, with its fluffy tail twitching sinuously back and forth like a snake charmer’s serpent. It seemed to have its head buried in one of my skulls.Along with the fox skulls nailed to the shed and the flag

as they flick their way along the fence. Then there is the fox again.Our garden, it seems, is as much a thoroughfare as ever. I've a house full of coughing and wheezing children at the moment, so none of us has gone out to disturb the snow. But there are tracks