Reynard padded along a street in South West London. When he was born his parents named him Scrounger in the hopes that he'd be good at finding food but he'd adopted the old family name of Reynard from when his family ran across the Surrey Downs in the long, long ago. He knew his part of London really well, that the family at No 10 usually had lots of leftovers at the weekend and the people in the flats at No 2 tried to recycle but weren't very good at it and often put out treats by mistake. Reynard was good at sniffing them out and, in the quiet night, could usually feast to his heart's content.He had to be careful, of course, since sometimes there were big dogs around or young humans that threw stones. Stupid humans. They were too slow and had rubbish aim so Reynard tended to sneer at them while being cautious of them.
On this particular evening he'd already seen Mr Squirrel in his tree and the snobbish cat at No 27 and it was a quiet, cold night. The pickings were good because the Big Day had been a couple of days earlier and the lights were still shining in the gardens. They'd shine for another few days yet, Reynard knew, and then the good times would be over until the Spring. He was a sensible fox and understood the changing times of the year.He padded down a little-trod road and found an unexpected feast and then curled up under a car parked outside a big house, wrapping his bushy tail around him to keep him warm. He nodded off to dreams of running wild across fields and through woods, of yelping at the moon and sleeping in the briars. He didn't know what a briar was but knew he'd recognise one when he saw one.
Half asleep Reynard started sniffing the breeze - what was that smell, he wondered? It smelled of... green. He was off his usual patch and had never been on this road at this time so this was a new thing. Shaking himself awake he took a deep sniff and it smelled good. What is it? He scampered out into the road and started to follow his nose - he wanted to know what the smell was.
He padded down the road, took a few shortcuts through gardens and ended up at a road. Reynard understood roads so sat under a hedge until the humans' cars stopped and he could trot over the road safely. And then he sat down with a bump. Green was everywhere. He knew about gardens but this garden went on forever with so many trees that he couldn't count them. They were bare of leaves but must've been glorious in summer. And the grass went on and on, with wonderful smells and places to explore. How had he never been there before? This was just like his dreams...
He padded onwards and he heard honking. As he got closer he saw a golden goose honking at an annoying dog and his stupid owner. When the dog moved on Reynard bound up to the brave goose and said 'hello' and the two creatures cautiously started a conversation. Dad Goose told Reynard all about his rascally children and Mum came up to look him deeply in the eyes and then relaxed and started grazing on the grass beside the lake. Reynard decided he liked these geese and that they should be friends. Reynard found a thick bush to doze under while the Common became busy with humans and dogs and then scampered over to Dad to say he'd be back in a couple of days as he headed back to his patch for dinner.A few days later Reynard was woken from his sleep by humans singing as they walked home. Ah yes, it was the Big Day after the Big Day and the humans would walk wonkily. He remembered his new friend and thought he'd pay him a visit so he headed off to find the big green, wait for the traffic to stop so he could cross the road and headed towards the lake. It was surprisingly quiet on the big green and then Reynard heard a bark and knew that there was a dog somewhere near. Then he heard honking.
Dad Goose was honking loudly, warning the citizens of the lake that the big black dog was near, the nasty dog that had been treated badly by his humans and knew no better. Dad was standing there with wings outstretched to protect Mum who was obviously heavy with eggs. She moved slowly towards the lake to float away without attracting attention. But the dog got closer and Dad stood his ground. Then Dad flew at the dog, feet first, slamming into the dog's face. The dog yowled and then barked angrily. Reynard watched his brave friend and then yelped at the moon and ran forward to stand beside his friend, baring his teeth.
Reynard stepped forward and sat on the ground between Dad Goose and the black dog, his bushy tale gently waving in the night air and he started to sing to the moon. He sang of summer days and nights, of running without end across fields and woods and smelling the deep green and the blue water. And the black dog slowly joined in the song, sharing their ancient memories of the times before concrete and brick. As the song closed the black dog bowed his head towards Reynard and to Dad Goose, turned and padded off into the darkness of the night as the bells in the tower at the end of the big green started to ring out for midnight.
The coots and the ducks and the swan drifted off, just leaving Reynard and the geese at the side of the lake and Reynard lay down beside them talking quietly about how he was looking forward to being an uncle to the baby goslings when they arrived, how he'd play with them everyday to give Mum and Dad a break and how he'd look after them. Mum rested her beak on the fox's neck while Dad told stories of other goslings from previous years who were scamps and troublemakers, one and all. They nestled down together to keep each other warm.
So, if you see a fox late at night don't shout at him, try talking. And if he sings to the moon listen carefully to see if you can understand the song. He might be on his way to see his friends or to babysit. You never know.
