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A number of lessons have been learned today: 1) there is no maximum limit to the absurdness of foxes, 2) Norfolk magpies hunt in packs and 3) messing with Shetland ponies is not a wise career move

Well, I suppose it had to happen eventually. I don't recall seeing any foxes at all in East Anglia during my undergraduate degree, save the occasional individual in the Broads National Park, and now I've seen two in less than a month. I ventured out with Khamsin into the Yare Valley early this morning, this bitingly-cold October morning with mist curling from the rivers...



...and all the vegetation heavily stiffened with frost.



The sun was barely rising, and the moon had yet to set.





But a little fox was waiting, a youngster from this year, a young male I think, although it was hard to be certain.



And he wasn't alone



Magpie and fox - so many times I've seen them pester each other in Surrey, but this was the most determined of entourages. They followed their victim across the field.



They spied on his conversations



They watched him learn that the temper of Shetland ponies is as short as their legs.





And they traipsed after him into the stable, which is not, I confess, a habitat in which I've photographed foxes before.





By this stage my hands were so cold that I was struggling to operate the camera, but I watched in considerable bemusement as the magpie rhyme nearly ran short.



Still they gathered, like mischievious children around a storyteller



But I think all celebrities need a break from public attention sometimes.