This morning I was awakened by the sound of frantic chickens. There was a ruckus in the hen house. The chickens are on the east side of the house now and I can see them out of my bedroom window. I got up and looked out to see the gray fox running back and forth along the length of the run, scaring Meredith and Pamela half to death. I opened the window and yelled, "Hey, you! Gray Fox!" I'm not sure why I include the species. When I yelled at the red fox last year I yelled "Fox!" not "Red Fox." The gray fox looked at me. I looked at it and said, "Beat it!" He left the area but not the yard. He went down the mowed path toward the side hill. I yelled, "I can still see you!" He moved into the long grass east of my garden. I could see the grasses move as he traveled. I watched until he was out of sight. I looked at my alarm clock. Six o'clock - the exact moment that I have to get up for work five days a week. Grrrr, that darn gray fox. Why doesn't he go after the numerous cottontail rabbits instead of the chicken?
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