AS the nights get longer and the days shorter, the time available to predators increases accordingly. There seems to be no set time of darkness when foxes will not strike. John has had snares set around the favoured entrances onto the farm, but after catching a neighbour's cat in a snare, and suffering a badly scratched hand when he released the unamused feline, he has decided that direct action in the shape of a twelve bore is the best deterrent.

We can tell where the fox comes through hedges, by the rank smell he leaves and the crushing of the grass. All clever cowboys and Indians tracking stuff. There have been mutterings that certain cats should not be wandering around the countryside at night, up to no good, but it has not yet come to controlling cats in snares. Although after listening to a Radio 4 programme entitled "What the cat brought in" and learning of the literally millions of small birds and mammals that the nation's Mrs Tibbles slaughters each year, perhaps the law should outlaw cats and not dogs from hunting. And it is not because the cats crave food. Apparently the better-fed a cat is, the better hunter it becomes.

I can write this cat slander with a certain detachment. Despite being a cat owner, I know with certainty that our own dear cat, named Doogle but more accurately referred to as Braindead, would not have the faintest idea how to kill anything and only represents a threat to herself. Whenever she hears my car coming into the yard, she stirs from her basket in the porch to attempt to throw herself under the wheels. She has managed it once, but because the car was being driven slowly to avoid her, she miraculously survived.

Not so my ducks. In just over a week, eight of my Muscovies have gone towards the 'feed a fox his favourite dish' campaign. Night after night, the dogs have gone absolutely berserk as Mr Reynard has prowled into the yard to snaffle a tasty takeaway. John set the alarm for different hours of the night/morning, but the fox always thwarted him. Either just before, or when John had determined that the fox was not coming, that darned animal was hanging around until it saw the lights had gone out, then pounced. I suggested leaving lights on, but John is too much of a farmer to willingly leave any power burning when no-one is around. Rather a duck than a high electricity bill.

The Muscovies did not help themselves. While the Aylesbury ducks and geese obligingly troop into their huts at night, the Muscovies choose to roost in trees, on tractors, on sheds, or, and this is most of them, just squat in the yard. It is the squatters that have gone. Despite being almost smack outside the dog kennels, and even when we have left the doors of the kennels open, the fox has still snuck in and dragged them off. We are talking big ducks here too. The drakes are nearly as big as geese, and the fox isn't even wanting to eat all of them; just the heads.

Last night, however, the dogs were silent. The hunt had been round and reportedly chased a big dog fox for over six miles, finally losing him by a river. I do hope it is the same creature and that he will have lost the map to get back here. I noticed that the remaining Muscovies have found the highest perches of all. They are actually on the roof of the farmhouse and one is on top of our chimney.

Updated: 12:12 Wednesday, December 17, 2003