Turlough House

“A mallard drake paddled slowly out from his hiding place … he looked quite morose, and we wondered where his mate might be”

Country Sights and Sounds
John Shelley

We spent a peaceful hour walking around the grounds of Turlough House and couldn’t help but be impressed at the increasing maturity of the gardens. It wasn’t long ago that these were a wilderness, abandoned to the windblown seeds of wildflower and weed and the inhabitation of a family of badgers.
Now the badgers pass right through, if they visit at all. Their sett is deserted and lies in ruins, with an arch of bramble guarding the main entrance. A lightly worn track leading into one of the secondary tunnels shows that this is still in use, though the current tenant is certainly not a badger; the trail is far too thin. It is also relatively straight, and this makes me think that the badger’s old home is now the temporary abode of a dog fox, one that was likely evicted by his mate immediately after the birth of her cubs.
Foxes travel in straight lines when moving from one place to another, as if they know they must hasten to stay out of sight as much as ever they can. The vixen will be particularly secretive at present, for she has her litter deep in an earthen bank in the woods beyond the river. As the fox family grow, local poultry will be imperilled, for high-quality protein will be in great demand. The adults will take whatever they can, even killing on their own doorstep, something they normally prefer to avoid.
A mallard drake paddled slowly out from his hiding place in the reeds as we walked the river bank. With his head hunched low over his back he looked quite morose, and we wondered where his mate might be. There are plenty of nesting places along the river and within easy reach of it; she could be almost anywhere. To go searching would be time consuming and probably fruitless.
A few brown breast feathers lay in the mud. Others clung to the undergrowth, where the wind had carried them. It could be that the fox had already been busy and that the duck was gone. Between foxes and mink a lot of mallard nests are accounted for. It will be too late for this lonely drake to find another mate, for pairing took place back at the start of the year.
Occasionally a rogue fox will take a newborn lamb. When this happens, it is likely the fox will do the same again and could return night after night to take even strong and healthy animals up to a week or so of age. Fortunately for the hill sheep and the shepherd, such animals are uncommon, especially when alternative food is abundant. 
When a farmer does lose a lamb or two, he quickly identifies the culprits as the fox family that inhabit a particular den close to the scene of the crime. Perhaps he is right, but it is more likely that another animal has travelled some distance, perhaps from the next valley, as if to divert unwanted attention from himself.
It is the local foxes that are persecuted, shot, trapped or even, unfortunately, poisoned. Yet the following night another lamb goes missing, and another still, leaving the farmer perplexed.
It is an easy matter to determine whether or not lambs are being taken to a particular den to be devoured, for foxes are messy eaters and not at all assiduous when it comes to housekeeping. Wool and bones will be left around the entrance to the den, almost as an adornment. The presence or absence of these signs can generally be seen as conclusive evidence.
Foxes are crepuscular by nature, being active at around the hours of dawn and again at dusk. In some areas where they have been continually persecuted, they show signs of becoming nocturnal, but given freedom from disturbance they will soon revert to their habit of being abroad during the twilight hours.
There are some who would take advantage of every opportunity to shoot foxes on sight and eliminate them from the countryside, but really they make an immense contribution when it comes to vermin control. Rabbits, rats and mice are favourite foodstuffs, and a growing family of foxes will devour a good many of these through the summer and into the autumn.
That thought will not help the poor mallard, who must spend the rest of the year alone.