A bad night.

Tonight should have been a walk in the playground at the school. I arrived in a timely fashion, some two hours before the time that I was winded by my adversary on the previous Saturday. I set up on a bench and chairs after checking the exact position of Charlies egress. As I suspected the fox had come under the green shiny two metre fence that surrounds the school on all sides. It is only punctuated by the two hefty gates at the entrance. The polished soil evidence of the red furred opponents belly as it has crawled repeatedly under the wire. The firing point has been set at fifty yards and I set the parallax accordingly, able to read the lettering on the side of the bait bowl I lay the rifle to rest and settle down to wait. The path that surrounds the school curves around me and the other side of this path boasts trees and shrubs that look much older than the eighteen months that the school has been here. Behind the flora the green security fence is obscured by narrow bamboo screening to hide the children from the driveway to the concrete garages and the back gated to the houses opposite. As I sit in silence with just the faintest of breeze rustling the leaves and making the branches creak slightly a car crunches up the gravel drive. I hear the squeal of metal on metal as the garage door is opened and then closed. This happens again ten minutes later and I wonder how much this two car galvanised building cost. As much silence as is possible in an urban setting closes around me once more. Children are still playing in their gardens, a last fling before their parents call them in for tea and bedtime stories. Further away someone cuts their lawn, no doubt at this time of night it is less of a chore as the heat of the day is gone. This along with the childrens voices eventually slip into a deeper silence that is only broken by a barking dog, of short stature by the sound of it and the occasional siren of an emergency vehicle in the far distance. I check my phone, 21;40, Charlie is due in a half hour or so. I load a round into the chamber and apply the safety catch. 21:50 and to my horror the automatic lighting on the building bursts into life. These domed flush fitting lamps are fitted at intervals ten feet apart and I chose the seat directly under one. Cursing my foolhardiness I make a quick decision to move into the trees and bushes in front of me. I walk softly through them closer to the bait and sit on the low pony wall. I can still see the bait to my relief. 22:00 and I reckonk that it will be another ten minutes before the foe appears so disaster has been avoided. So I thought. When I decided on my shooting position I had taken into account the prevailing breeze. My position had been perfect now however I was sat within the tree line and due to the change in my position the wind was now on my back blowing directly towards the bait. I look up at the sky and mutter a few choice words in the privacy of my own head. I make the decision to move completely while I have the chance. This rather than stay and spook Reynard with my scent for a second time. I reach the illuminated bench to retrieve my water bottle and the lid to the bait tub. As I look back a dark grey shape slinks away into the now black tree line at a hundred and eighty degrees to me. I look skyward once more, were I not of stout constitution I would at this point weep. I check the time on the phone, 22:10. The previous week I set game cameras up on the other side of the school on the edge of the minuscule wood. There was a ghostly image of a fox passing at 22:20 on there so I gather my things quickly and with the round still chambered I set of in a clockwise direction towards the wood. Walking quietly is an art form as any hunter knows, the ground underfoot is the challenge from leaves to twigs it will all scream when trodden on. As I walk I turn my feet outwards slightly so my step falls on the edge of my heels and roll them until the soles make contact. I make my stride slow deliberate and as controlled as possible. The breeze is louder than I as the school is circumnavigated. As I come to the final stretch the wood is to my left and as it the case with woods it is now in total darkness a good time before the open areas. The lights from above me shine directly down and fail to penetrate more than a couple of feet into the gloom. In front of me, through a fence that separates the teachers car park and the wooded area a fox saunters towards me. The fence is the same as the one that surrounds the school and has gates that allow vehicular access to between the two. These gates are open. Charlie has not seen me as I froze instantly. I quickly drop to one knee and assess the shot for when he will inevitably come into view. The backstop is a solid one so I slip the safety catch off and steady my breathing. The shot will be a close one so I make a mental note to aim high. Through the top of the scope I see the fox again, moving away back down the other side of the fence. No backstop and a shot through a fence ensures its safety as I engage the safety and walk through the gates to the Land Rover parked a few feet the other side. I open the door and empty my pockets ont the seat. The last item retrieved is the small torch so I switch it on and give the wood a sweep. There twenty yards away two huge eyes look back at me. Charlie had been disturbed by my vehicle parked on his usual route and backtracked to another entrance point. I creep around the vehicle and cradle the rifle in the crook of my left wrist. The torch in my left hand I come forwards until I am level, stooped over, with the bonnet. As I breathe out slowly the plastic bottle of water slips from my hooded sweatshirt and comes to an abrupt and particularly loud stop on the floor. I look at the sky once more and in a fit of optimism peer over the bonnet with the torch switched on. Not an eye, not one single eye looks back. Having confirmed that it is indeed that particular time of night for Charlie to come through I dip into the bait supplies and retrieve a tin of anchovies and another of sardines. These are smeared over the fence and left in a pile with a good solid backstop. Although the battle is lost the war is far from over. I shall bait the area for a few days and let the rhythm of nocturnal meanderings return undisturbed.