Photo of one of the Latton Fox cubs, in the Vicarage garden, by The Revd. Lynn Hurry
My good friend, Lynn, has sent this update on the fox cubs in Latton Vicagage garden.
People have asked for photo’s of the cubs, but it’s usually too dark to get pics! Here are the most recent.
I can report that all 4 cubs are doing very well and Papa is still hanging around with them keeping an eye. We really miss Mama badly. It’s not the same without her. We’ll continue to help Papa in caring for the youngsters until they no longer need us. We expect towards the end of the year the males will have wandered off to find mates and new accomodation. But with any luck one of the girls will stay and have her own cubs next year. Now wouldn’t that be cool!
We don’t usually name the cubs, but we do call the one with the large white tip on her tail ‘Tippex’ and one of the others is ‘Braveheart’. A couple of them have white tipped tails, but Tippex has a bigger area. One cub has had an injury to its leg, but it’s been like it for some time now and like many foxes it’s coping very well. They are always coming with injuries.They run at high speeds, jump over high fences and play hard! The big fox is Papa. Enjoy! [Lynn]
The Tale of the Little Fox
In Egypt, in their ancient Christian past there had once lived a monk who befriended an uneducated and simple peasant farmer. One day this peasant said to the monk, I respect God too, who created this world! Every evening I pour out a bowl of goat’s milk and leave it under a palm tree. In the evening God comes, and drinks up the milk; He’s very fond of it. There’s never once been a time when even a drop of milk is left in the bowl.
Hearing the words, the monk smiled, and kindly told his friend God does not need the bowl of milk. The peasant insisted he was right; and the monk suggested an overnight watch secretly watching to see what happens to the bowl of goat’s milk.
When night fell they hide and secretly watched from a distance. And soon in the moon light; a little fox crept up to the bowl and lapped up the milk. The peasant sighed disappointedly, and said “I can see it’s not God.” The monk explained to him God is a Spirit; and tried to comfort him; telling him every one comprends God’s presence in their own unique way. The peasant wept, and went home to his hovel. The monk also went back to his cell, and when he got there his path was blocked; he was amazed to see his cell blocked by an angel. Utterly terrified he fell to his knees, and the angel said to him with what wisdom, and education you had: you took away what wisdom the peasant had.
But there’s one thing that you don’t know; O learned man; God seeing the sincerity and true heart of this good peasant; every night sent the little fox to that palm tree to comfort him and accept his sacrifice.
For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. For all things originate with Him and come from Him: all things live through Him and all things center in and tend to consummate and to end in Him.
To Him be glory forever. Amen.