The philosopher and the fox

6am. My alarm is ringing. Why am I doing this again? I manage to drag myself out of bed and into the garden. The food is gone. I don’t think any of the cats ate it, as it was untouched till 11pm. I went with bread and Quorn Roast Style Sliced Fillets. I think they are kinda gross, but the fox doesn’t seem to mind. The Alpro Yoghurt containers that I left lying around the tent look like they have been chewed on. Who knew that a fox would like vegan yoghurt? I spent three hours writing in the tent. Nothing happens.

12.05pm. Sitting on my balcony, I spot her in my neighbours garden. (The fox is a vixen until proven otherwise, because I’m getting tired of using double pronouns). The thing is, I can only watch their garden from my balcony. So setting up the tent was a worthless idea. O well. At least I’ve proved that I can set it up by myself, which was a bit of a confidence boost. I spent the rest of the day in my new lookout. Nada.

11pm. I’ve very politely asked my neighbours whether I can climb into their garden to get closer to the fox. It’s totally fine, they say. This is at least some progress, I think to myself. Before going to bed, I make sure there is some fresh water outside as well some leftover tomato and ruccola risotto. To get a sense of her palate, I throw in some Greek style yoghurt and two not-quite-empty avocado skins. It’s worth a shot.