With a story from way back in such low-tech days that cows were milked by hand, you might have to hand-crank the car on cold mornings, and red fox families held forth across the rural landscape like a wild aristocracy.
The red fox, it would seem, as adaptable as a mouse, has more or less moved in with us. That could pose a mind-boggling question as to why, at one point in my life, did my blood run hot with the desire to do them in?