Friends

Showing posts with label trash. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trash. Show all posts

01 September 2012

Fox brings unwanted gifts

Since the fox keeps leaving presents I'm wondering if it’s in appreciation for allowing him to sunbathe at the bottom of the garden, or gratitude for the peanuts put out for jays and squirrels. 

I can’t say I appreciate the gifts, I mean a tatty pair of gardening gloves and a couple of tennis balls aren’t something to rave over. In the long grass of the wild patch I’ve found empty but well-chewed packets that once held chocolate biscuits, polo mint wrappers, a battered box of fish fingers (minus the contents), and the occasional blackcurrant drinks carton.  I don't want those either. Oh my goodness, you’d think he would invite us to his little feasts, wouldn’t you?

If the fox really wanted to please me, he should leave something I could actually use. A few trinkets instead of worn out gloves would be appreciated, or maybe the odd pound note or two. I’m not fussy, either way.

There’s a thought: do people throw money away? I frequently hear the expression it’s like throwing money down the drain ... perhaps some throw it in the bin instead!

What is left of our domestic rubbish (after putting aside recycling stuff) is tied up in black bags, most times bags within bags, and placed in the bin with a secure lid. I defy the fox to get in there.


I can only think the animal is sifting through someone’s rubbish bin and I would dearly like to know the location of that bin in order to tell the owners where their trash is disappearing to. Or even explain that there’s a fox on the loose. We did have some new neighbours in recent months and as the gift-giving is a fairly new venture I reckon the bin and rubbish belongs to them. But how to prove it and how to complain without proof? Oh well, maybe one day I’ll pluck up the courage to knock on the door.