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Theatremonkey in the Wild

June 15, 2010

They don’t call it the urban jungle for nothing. Unless next door’s cat is on a steroid programme I know nothing about, then I have wild foxes in my garden. This I’ve known for several years. Even before I saw a pair a couple of years ago, the particular mess they leave on the pathway is unmistakable. Anyone else living in fox-infested suburbia will know what I mean.

Beyond that, I know the suburb has rats. Saw one on a quiet Christmas Day morning making its way up the main street on my estate. It was a rather lovely yellowy colour, and as it was carrying gifts, I assume it was on its way to visit relatives. The local park also has a resident owl (regularly heard) and a woodpecker – the first I’ve ever seen. Who knew they all had IPods these days with thrash (or should that be thrush?) metal to provide a rhythm to keep their tree bashing activities in time.

Now I find out there is a large rabbit population in the greenery at one end of the street. Saw one the other day, enjoying its grass and oblivious to the heavy articulated trucks taking a short cut. Thumper (or Dumper, considering what was nearby at the time I saw it) may be the reason the local fox population is sustainable, but is another manifestation of the urban jungle. With the Cobs now in power and the hunting ban set to be abolished, should us urbanites begin to take horse riding lessons and breed beagles? I’d rather not, personally, but it really is becoming a jungle out there.

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