6:30am this morning and Felicity was already waiting elegantly for service.
She had pouch #1 like a perfect lady.
Then she scored pouch #2 with those big hopeful eyes.
Big mistake.Then she scored pouch #2 with those big hopeful eyes.
She is now curled up fast asleep on the grass like she’s just demolished Christmas dinner, Christmas pudding, AND all the mince pies. She looks completely stuffed and has zero intention of moving.Note to self: Do NOT give her two pouches. She becomes an immovable fox log and holds the entire garden hostage.I still can’t go out and re-stock the rest of the Wildlife Cafe because she’s sprawled out there snoring (probably dreaming of pouch number three).
Eventually she got up, stretched, and wandered slowly up the mown path. She even stopped for a very suspicious inspection of Maurice’s underground tunnel entrance (Maurice was probably having a heart attack inside).
Then she jumped through the hedge… only to reappear a little later peeping cunningly through the foliage, with her own monocular, at the end of the garden, clearly waiting for me to come out with the peanut butter butties.
But I thought I'd wait a while in case she came back.And, half an hour later, that's exactly what she did. She didn't retreat, she re-grouped.
She plonked herself down in the long grass, the re-wilded end of the garden (AKA extended No Mow May), and is still there, guarding Maurice's mouse tunnel like a ginger security guard.It is now well past the two-hour mark.
The Wildlife Cafe remains closed.
I remain trapped inside my own house.
Maurice remains in hiding.Felicity remains undefeated....she's not just waiting, she's occupying territory.The Wildlife Cafe has officially become a hostage situation.
Felicity has turned my Sunday morning into a full-scale fox soap opera. We’ve gone from elegant breakfast guest to food-coma queen to tunnel-guarding hostage-taker in the space of a few hours. Feed me, or I swear I'll eat your mouse.
Her cubs are now, I suppose, teenagers in fox years. It’s Sunday morning, so they’re all having a massive lie-in, refusing to get their arses out of bed. Mum has been sent out on a foraging mission and is refusing to go home empty-pawed.She is clearly thinking: “If those lazy teenagers won’t get up, I’ll just sit here until the human caves and provides a family-sized takeaway.”
But I thought I'd wait a while in case she came back.And, half an hour later, that's exactly what she did. She didn't retreat, she re-grouped.
She plonked herself down in the long grass, the re-wilded end of the garden (AKA extended No Mow May), and is still there, guarding Maurice's mouse tunnel like a ginger security guard.It is now well past the two-hour mark.
The Wildlife Cafe remains closed.
I remain trapped inside my own house.
Maurice remains in hiding.Felicity remains undefeated....she's not just waiting, she's occupying territory.The Wildlife Cafe has officially become a hostage situation.
Felicity has turned my Sunday morning into a full-scale fox soap opera. We’ve gone from elegant breakfast guest to food-coma queen to tunnel-guarding hostage-taker in the space of a few hours. Feed me, or I swear I'll eat your mouse.
Her cubs are now, I suppose, teenagers in fox years. It’s Sunday morning, so they’re all having a massive lie-in, refusing to get their arses out of bed. Mum has been sent out on a foraging mission and is refusing to go home empty-pawed.She is clearly thinking: “If those lazy teenagers won’t get up, I’ll just sit here until the human caves and provides a family-sized takeaway.”
“Mum’s been gone ages… do you think she’s negotiating for extra pouches again?”
“She always does this. Just wait, she’ll come back with nothing and blame the human.”
She is an absolute professional scammer. I’m now trapped inside watching her like it’s a live nature documentary.
Latest Update:
She’s still there in the long grass guarding Maurice’s tunnel.
The Magpie Air Force has now launched a protest moss-bombing campaign on the patio in support of her cause.I think I might just go back to bed and admit defeat for today. The animals have won this round.Felicity & The Magpies – 1
Human – 0
Latest twist: While I was preparing the peanut butter butties I spotted a smaller ginger operative at the far end of the garden — too small to be Felicity. It scurried away into the hedge. Moments later I checked with the monocular and realised Felicity was still there… she was just lying down. So we now have two ginger operatives on site.The cubs have clearly been roused from their Sunday morning lie-in and sent in as reinforcements.I’ve decided enough is enough. I’m just going to go out, open the Wildlife Cafe, and be done with it. If the others get food, great. If not… they can take it up with Felicity and her crew. The Magpie Air Force can moss bomb her instead of me.
However… I’ve now discovered a load of small holes everywhere in the flower beds.Not content with holding me hostage for hours, the fox family has also committed criminal damage and turned parts of the garden into a Swiss cheese installation.It’s not even 9:30am.Just another completely normal, peaceful Sunday morning at the Wildlife Cafe.
I'm watching her. She's watching me. The Wildlife Cafe has officially become a spy thriller.
Final update:
…After successfully reopening the Wildlife Cafe, I thought peace had been restored.Wrong.Felicity is back again. I just saw her standing boldly on the mown path, then she slunk off and laid down in the long grass where she thinks I can’t see her. She is clearly preparing for the next round.
She looks far too pleased with herself for someone who’s been busted multiple times already.
I have a feeling her cubs will be joining her very soon for a family outing to the café. I would very much prefer they continued to live in Tom’s garden, but I suspect that ship has sailed.Stay safe Maurice, just yell if you need a Deliveroo.
It is still not even 10:30am.Send help. Or a stronger Ghillie Suit. Or a fox-proof fence. Or all three.
