Smart Animals

... Are ingenious and talented visitors to our gardens

Clever as a Fox BRONWYN HUDSON

I awoke one day last December to find the drystone wall in my front yard toppled; small holes were all over the garden and mulch was scattered over the neatly manicured lawn. I replaced the stones and mulch and refilled the holes. The next morning, the same thing happened. This occurred night after night.

It wasn’t long before I saw the culprit. The fox, who we nicknamed Dastardly, sat brazenly staring at me – sporting his red bushy tail, pointy nose and long whiskers.

He was timid at the start although each day he became more emboldened. Sometimes he would ignore me. At other times, he would slink close by me, stop as if he was saying ‘hello’, and then continue on his merry way.

He always knew when it was garbage night. Tuesday mornings he was a familiar figure, galloping down the footpath with a binscavenged shopping bag in his mouth.

He was nimble. He could slip

through the fence with the greatest of ease to avoid you, and stand stock-still, camouflaging himself in the undergrowth.

I admired him for his clever ways and over time we developed a bond. The fox had become an unlikely friend. He thought he owned the place and he trotted around as if he was the king.

But when my prize rose bushes were decimated, enough was enough. So, a cage was set up and baited with a fox’s favourite treat – chicken drumsticks.

I followed the instructions given to me by a man from an indigenous land-care group and created a soft bed of magnolia leaves. Apparently foxes don’t like stepping on bare wire. They’re not stupid.

I watched as he climbed the verandah steps to get a better view of the cage. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he tried to work out how to get to the meal.

He circled the cage, surveying it from every angle. Still, he sensed something was wrong and wouldn’t enter.

Twice the neighbour’s ginger tom cat was caught in the cage, much to my embarrassment and the cat’s indignity. Not to mention a couple of hapless birds.

As I write the fox is still on the run. He has my admiration.

Musical Magpies LORIS HAWKINS

A pair of magpies made a nest quite close to our house and, of course, we fed them occasionally. They produced two cute babies who would turn up on our back verandah for a feed. I called them Heckle and Jeckle.

One Sunday morning they were on the verandah. I had the radio tuned to the ABC. The presenter, Ian McNamara, usually plays a recording of different bird songs. He played it that morning and when it was the magpie’s turn to sing, Heckle and Jeckle puffed out their fluffy chests and sang along with the magpie on the radio.

It was a magical moment.