The other day, while watching foxes on the telly, I was reminded of the time I went for a walk with a wild fox. It happened many years ago when I was in my mid-teens. We were living on a farm at the time, which meant I had acres of land to explore on a regular basis.

On this particular day, I’d been sat listening to barn owls calling from inside a dead tree. After about half an hour, I decided to move on, but as I went to stand up, I turned to the side and there sat a vixen just behind me, calm as anything.

As I stared at her in surprise, she stood up, walked a few feet away, then stopped and turned to face me again. I walked slowly towards her and she moved a few feet away before turning to face me for a second time. For some reason unknown to me, the vixen wanted me to follow her, so I did.

We walked across two fields together like a man out for a walk with his dog. She led me to a dry ditch then turned to face me before she ran off into the ditch and disappeared. I waited by the ditch for a while in case she came back, but she never did.

To this day I can’t explain the vixen’s behaviour, but what I can say is that I went for a walk with a wild fox.

LB Loxley