Chicken and egg

I'm haunted by foxes. They are everywhere I look at the moment, in adverts, on cards and paintings and actually out there in my neighbourhood. Sadly one of the local ones was found dead on the road last weekend, but it hasn't put the others off. I have no illusions about foxes and their behaviour in the wild. We lost a small flock of hens to one in broad daylight when we lived in the countryside. Roald Dahl's depiction of Fantastic Mr Fox and his attempts to feed his family helped me and the children to cope with the massacre. Nether Edge is an area that developed around farms and woodland and quarries in the 19th century. The woodland and quarries are still here, and part of the development where I live is the original farmhouse that gives the area its name. It suddenly occurred to me that these aren't urban foxes, who have moved into the city in an opportunist way. They have possibly lived here for generations and we are the interlopers. When I last lived in Nether Edge, twenty five years ago, my garden was part of a toad run. Once a year toads streamed across the road and gardens heading for their traditional spawning pond, a small lake which is now part of a hotel garden. Neighbours would patrol with buckets, rescuing them from being squashed by cars, helping them on their journey. I must find out if this still happens. City wildlife is full of surprises.