Terry Bull

Familiarity breeds contempt, and Terry Bull has a look about him that says he has his eye on me. He will test me before too long.

Earlier in the week I followed a vixen through the South Riverside Pasture. I could only move when the fox had its back to me. I was wearing a green cagoule with its spacious hood pulled tightly over my head and my hands deep in its pockets. The herd stood behind and dogged my every step, in extended line. The lead beast nudged me with its nose many times. I looked behind regularly to make sure that it wasn’t Terry. I bet not many people can claim to have followed a fox for an hour through long grass, with a herd of fifteen cattle on their heels.


Terry Bull

9 Comments on “Terry Bull

    • Within fifteen minutes of spotting the vixen, it had made and eaten four kills in the tall grass alongside the river: moles, mouse and a rat, as far as I could tell. Each kill was made in the classic slow creep/high leap style we associate with foxes. The vixen wasn’t at all phased by me or the herd strung out in a long line at my heels. I don’t think she considered a cagoule on stalks anything to be concerned about. After each kill the fox sat and waited until she heard something moving in the undergrowth. In the end, boredom drove me north and the vixen south.

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