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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

because he knew mankind would often be in its presence.Nowadays the only dung I ever get first-hand experience of (although it's usually first-foot experience) is dog, cat or fox, and none of them is renowned for its sweet scent. I have found the odd

I'm just back from a weekend visiting an old friend in Banwell, near Weston-Super-Mare. Always envious of his rambling house and large walled garden, we got to talking over garden wildlife and the troubles of traipsing fox dung through the kitchen

I have cats. Every so often I have to live with the guilt that they kill the local wildlife. It's usually one of the mice breeding in the compost heaps or a blue-tit fledgling. The main hunter is the black and white one; lovely and soft and over

There is a delicate balance between wanting to see nature in the garden, and suffering the consequences of its visits. I am decidedly at the easy end of the spectrum, and all I have to worry about are a few dollops of fox faeces in return for close

tasty had somehow got wedged in it. I've cleared out plenty of chicken bones from our gutters over the years, dropped there, I think, by crows who have raided gardens where titbits have been left out for cats or foxes.Then it was the jays, three of them

to prevent other suitors taking advantage until the eggs are laid. At present there are approximately no cow pats in my garden, but we have two well-fed cats, and the regular procession of foxes leave more than their fair share of strong-smelling faeces. Even

’ve been writing this, a long-tailed tit just bobbed into that same apple tree, and a fox just popped through the gap in the fence and trotted up the muddy lawn. I’ve seen the first insect too — a harlequin ladybird. Normal service has been resumed.

were decorated with sparkly cobwebs. On the way back we stopped off to pick up some windfalls from beneath the apple trees, avoiding those already chewed by the fox and muntjac.At lunchtime I sat outside and ate a piece of toast (with home-made apricot