Foxhole one

For maybe three of the last four or five nights, a large hole has been dug in the side of the unfenced compost heap, the one used for woody waste, bulky garden waste and the occasional burial of once important books. In the western, more open side, one facing away from the house to the east. In the depths, where most of the awkward woody waste will have rotted down, at least to the point of innocuousness. 

At first I thought maybe rats, which I don't mind about particularly, you are going to get them - but gradually foxes won out. The holes were too big for rats. And I do mind foxes: they make a mess, they dig things up and they dig holes.

Each day, I backfilled the hole in the hope that the fox (or foxes) would get bored and move on. Not as if there is anything for them to eat in there, it being far too dry for the slugs and earthworms I dare say foxes do eat.

But yesterday, I probed to hole to find that it was around four feet deep, maybe getting bigger inside. So this time I backfilled with a good mixture of thorny shrub clippings, including a good portion of dried out firethorn, aka pyracantha from the Greek, well named for its substantial thorns. Rammed in with a two by two tamping pole, once part of the garden shed. Topped off with with a small jar of ancho chilli flakes, said to deter all but the most determined fox.

This morning, I go out first thing to see how I have done. To find it all dug out again. The mouth of the hole rather bigger than it was, possibly to avoid the chilli.

Thoughts have now turned to wire mesh and such like. Maybe my sieving frame for sorting aggregate will be pressed into service. At maybe two feet by four feet maybe a suitable size.

PS: over breakfast, I remembered about the foxholes that infantry dig in the ground to protect themselves against enemy fire - small arms, artillery and bombs. You won't survive a direct hit, but you are pretty safe otherwise.