An Evening Stroll…
Mrs Fox eyed the tower of full egg boxes with growing alarm. The Hayloft was still not open for visitors, but the chickens had not taken note. They were back in their full swing of Spring laying, their moults almost all over for the winter. There was much happy clucking around in the cool sunshine of March.
Back to the eggs. Mrs Fox determined to resolve the situation, at least in part, by marching up over the back field and setting a couple of boxes down for Robert and Vernon. She selected the largest and smoothest, from the three oldest hens, Amelia Egghart, Specks and Violet. With great care, she nestled them into cardboard boxes, and slipped them into a bag.
“Mr Fox? I am off to deliver eggs across the fields before it is dark.”
“Wait! I’ll come with you,” replied the lean, tall Fox, arriving at her side from goodness only knows where.
The two Foxes set off across the farmyard, leaving the assortment of dogs to chase wildly in their absence. The heavy wooden farm gate clicked shut on its latch and Mr Fox slipped his paw around Mrs Fox’s waist and hummed a happy tune.
The light was gently fading, and Mrs Fox smiled at the frollicking dairy herd in the field to their left. Their first days out on Spring grass were always wonderful to watch. Joyful bounding and hasty snatching at clumps of the winter-rested meadow alternated erratically as the Foxes made their way towards their neighbours’ farm gate.
“Er… Mr Fox… erm…” Mrs Fox tilted her foxy ears towards the rather close and energetic creatures.
Mr Fox nodded. “They do look quite frisky,”
Mrs Fox considered. “Maybe we could leave the bag on the hedge?”
“Cows eat anything, we can’t risk them pulling it in.”
The Foxes looked about.
“Hm, difficult,” said Mr Fox. “How about over here?”
The Foxes carefully hung the bag with its precious and fragile egg-cargo in the opposite hedge. Mrs Fox pulled out her telephone and sent a message to the dairy farm.
Feeling more than a little surprised at their own caution, the Foxes turned and made their way back to Foxes’ Retreat. But not before having a dusk-lit chat with a particularly beautiful black cow called Clara.