Real foxes don't eat quiche

Last night, I left a slice of quiche out for the foxes that live at the end of my back garden.

I normally leave bits of leftover food for the foxes on the night I put my bin sacks out for the dustmen to collect early the next day. If I don't, then some wild animal or other usually rips the black bags open in search for food anyway, so it saves on mess and cuts down on waste.

But this morning, when I looked out across my lawn, the piece of quiche was still there, untouched.

There have been foxes living at the end of my garden for some time.

Last autumn, I saw a fox curled up asleep on the leaf pile at the end of my garden. She was in a sorry state and her rump was sore and bloody. I guessed she might have been a grown up cub, kicked out by her family because they wanted to make room for the next litter.

I noticed her in my garden quite a bit after that. She dug a den, with several entrances, into my leaf pile. By spring, she was starting to look healthier – and fat.

One day, to my delight, I saw her lead two little cubs out of the den. She was very protective of them, and rushed them out of my garden whenever she saw me looking at her, but I kept an eye out of my window and frequently caught glimpses of them playing in the garden at dusk or early morning.

The last time I saw the cubs was a fortnight ago. They had really grown and were almost as big as their mother. They also seemed a lot more independent and were foraging on their own.

Maybe the reason the slice of quiche was left untouched is that the foxes have now left the breeding den and moved on into the wider world, ready to be proper grown up foxes in their own right.

Or maybe real foxes just don't eat quiche.