And I wasn't alone. As we passed Evelith Mill Cottage on the way home Bobby spotted a fox, the first we've seen all winter. It was settling down in the long grass to enjoy the sun. Bobby was nearly upon it before the fox took fright along the ridge. Bobby chased it along the escarpment, silhouetted against the sky, gap unchanging, a couple of hundred yards. It was a strange sight, for the fox had hanging from his mouth a dead animal I couldn't identify – a baby rabbit maybe – which it was plainly reluctant to surrender. Bobby for his part, not to be outdone, kept his favourite rubber ball in his mouth the whole chase.
Had he actually caught up with the fox who knows what would have ensued. A game of tag? A fight? A swap meet? We'll never know, the fox escaped down into the dingle and Bobby trotted on mighty pleased with himself.