The big vixen is pregnant again. No wonder she has been driving off this year's litter. This morning, in a hard frost and 3 degrees C, she was eating the bread I'd just thrown out for the birds. Unlike her daughter Olive, she is far too shy to pose for her photograph. But she is a magnificent, dark auburn beast with a massive, white-tipped brush. I have named her Russet after her colouring and am hoping to sneak a photo of her soon.
Perky little Olive still appears at our mealtimes, sitting in full sight with head cocked, hoping for a handout. I have seen her fight bitter battles with her mum, even sustaining a nasty bite on her back, but it hasn't deterred her. She knows what side her turkey sandwich is buttered all right.
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