We use disposable plastic trays from the supermarket to feed the foxes. When we take out one dish, we bring in the other, but lately the dishes have been disappearing. Obviously, the critters are carrying them off into the “back forty”. The Gas and Electric company hasn’t been mowing back there for a while, and a large fallen tree has prevented us from getting there ourselves. I’m not keen on traipsing through knee-high weeds to find a plastic tray, but it’s frustrating.
No idea why the foxes are carrying them off, but The Squire thinks maybe they are using them for shingles on their den. Whatever it is, at this rate they’ll have a service for twelve in black plastic.
If I could figure out how to shrink this picture it would help. Anyway, this is the tree that prevents The Squire from mowing the back forty. Just below the split in the tree you can see a small break in the grass; that is the path the animals have worn going back and forth. We call it the “Fox Trot”.
The dish was gone again this morning. I’m going to stop at the thrift store and see if I can snag an angel food pan. Pound a stake into the ground and drop the pan over it, and that ought to keep the little dickens from carrying it away.
thisendoftheswamp 