Canny canid

Dividing my time between town and country leaves me pretty confused at times. The other day a fox streaked across a paddock at the Surrey farm where I keep my horses. The gamekeeper, who was having his tea break, stubbed out his cigarette enigmatically and went off to do whatever it is that gamekeepers do.

I do not pretend to understand his dark arts — and I sometimes wish he didn’t walk around with quite so many dead crows hanging from his jacket — but I do know that as a result of his peculiar skills we get to enjoy fresh eggs from free-roaming chickens who lay neatly on the top of the straw banks in our horses’ stalls.

We also have a very cute flock of ducks, who splash about in the water jump; a family of guinea fowl, who go to bed at night in the trees; and best of all Goosey the goose, who answers to his name and likes being cuddled.