Hen House Heroes

The light had all but gone when the glimpse of a familiar-looking heat signature showed in the thermal. It was at the end of the barn and partly obscured by the branches of an overhanging tree, but there was something about the brief movement I’d seen that told me it had to have been a fox or possibly a badger.

Again I saw a glimpse of heat between the branches and could just hear the warning call of the blackbirds in the edge of the tree line in front of me over the crackle of the overhead electricity pylons.

I was here with Matt, a shooting and work buddy of mine, just giving him a hand on a fox control job he had been given, and he was standing on the other side of the barn from me watching over another small field.

 The lady from this smallholding had lost several hens from the yard as well as a few ducks from the pond. The fox – or foxes – had been seen numerous times throughout the day and early evening, showing little regard for anyone around the yard and the adjacent stables.

I’d picked a spot where I could wait at the end of a small paddock surrounded by trees and tucked myself into a patch of tall nettles with my rifle (a Mauser M12 in .243 topped with the Hikmicro Alpex) rested on the tripod and ready for action.

I’d paid careful attention to where I had set up for two reasons. The first was that any opportunity would likely be at 150yd or less, so I didn’t want to be seen. The second was that I wanted a good view of as much of the area as I could from one position.

Surrounded by tall nettles and with a shield of trees behind me, I felt confident that once darkness had set in I would be pretty well hidden. A final flash of heat moving to the right told me that what I suspected was a fox had gone to the other side of the barn, where it would probably catch Matt’s sharp eye.

The lady had told us that she was sure there were two foxes about, possibly a dog and a vixen, so I felt quietly confident that we stood a good chance of knocking down at least one fox this evening.

A couple of minutes passed before the crack of a rifle shot from the other side of the barn broke the quiet of the still evening. Knowing that Matt was a relaxed and competent shot, I felt pretty certain that we already had one fox in the bag. A few moments later, my phone vibrated quietly in my pocket confirming that Matt had indeed shot a small vixen crossing the field.

Within minutes I spotted what I could clearly see was another fox following the exact same route along the track leading from the back field towards me.

This time, on reaching the end of the barn, without hesitation the fox continued along my side of the building, setting off a security light as it crossed the yard. It didn’t so much as bat an eyelid, but casually continued along behind the stables beside me no more than 50yd away.

With the yard and buildings behind, I had not the slightest chance of a shot and had to reluctantly watch it saunter past unchallenged. The fox then disappeared behind me into cover, and after a couple of failed attempts to lure it back out with a soft lip squeak, I decided to employ a little technology in the form of a FoxPro caller to try to pull it in. I felt sure it was still in the immediate area.

Nipping quickly out into the field, I soon found that it was quite a bit boggier than I’d realised and was pleased I’d still worn my wellies despite the majority of the ground being solid. After trudging out around 70yd to place  the caller, I tucked myself back in among the nettles before letting it sing out its tunes.

I used the pheasant distress call (one of my favourites) and within seconds an owl swooped in for a closer look, instantly pinpointing its location. With a tip of its wing it silently circled the caller briefly before gracefully gliding back deep into the shadows of the wood.

Just then a security light on the barn lit up the yard and I instantly muted the caller in anticipation of a fox coming in from the yard – yet nothing showed.

Again I let the caller sing, and again something triggered the light’s sensor. Soon after, another glance around with the thermal showed the fox had returned, but this time from the left.

If this was indeed the same fox, it must have circled round behind me to appear out of the nettles about 50yd away. It was already trotting purposefully out across the field towards the caller, and again I paused its sounds.

With a soft click I switched on the infrared illuminator attached to the Alpex scope and the fox caught sight of its red glow, stopping in its tracks to stare in my direction. I already had my crosshairs on its chest and a split second later I squeezed the trigger just as it went to step forward again. The 75gr Hornady V-Max bullet was far quicker, dumping the dog fox unceremoniously into a crumpled dead heap in the grass.

Happy that we had accounted for both the dog and the vixen in short order, we decided to wait another hour to see if any others decided to put in an appearance. Hearing the second shot, the lady of the house came out through the yard to find us and was very pleased to see the results of our brief visit. Repeatedly thanking us, she insisted on giving us 20 quid despite our assurances that we were just happy to have been able to help.

 After another hour and nothing else seen but a badger, a couple of rabbits and a few fallow deer, we left feeling satisfied that we had kept the lady’s poultry safe for at least a little while, but we were wrong. Within a day or two, Matt received a message to say that a fox had been back and had been pacing around her chicken run intently watching her birds.

That evening we were back, and as it was a little earlier than the previous visit we thought we would have a little wander around to see if we could find any obvious fox runs or other signs around the area that might give us a better idea of their movements.

Walking up either side of a hedge close to where both the previous foxes had been seen, Matt bumped a fox in the corner of the field. It slipped through the hedge to come face to face with me! I was far from ready for a shot and the fox wisely slipped back into the hedge and then into a small spinney. I could see from its casual disappearance that it wasn’t too worried by us and was likely to be back soon, so we both took up positions overlooking the general area covering different angles.

We didn’t have to wait very long before I spotted the same dark fox appear back through the same hedge on my side, out of sight of Matt. This visit I had opted for the .223 with its thermal scope, since I knew the ground a little better. This rig made me completely covert.

The fox wandered no more than a few yards from the hedge before it collided with a spiteful little 53gr V-Max bullet, sending an assortment of working parts out the opposite side of its flank. This turned out to be a second small vixen and again, after seeing nothing more, we were confident the lady would have no more fox problems for a while.

However, a couple of days later we again received a message to say that around 21:00, just before dark, another fox had been seen in the yard. As it was Matt’s daughter’s birthday he was unable to get over for another visit, but as I was free I went over for a quick look.

I arrived at about 20:30 and the owner came out to thank me for coming over, and after a short chat left me to my own devices. Having shot all the foxes so far in the same area, I took up a position at the corner of the barn, behind a trailer and with a handy milk churn as a seat. Shortly before 22:00 a rabbit on the edge of the field stood on its back legs as a dog fox entered the field. The rest was just a formality, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be much longer before we again get a call to arms!