The Vixen Poem by Frank Halliwell

The grey dawn streaks the morning sky and puts the dark to flight.
A few black feathers tell the tale of terror in the night!
Around the feeder ten red hens are waiting for their grain,
But big black hen is gone and she will not return again!

A stealthy flash along the fence, a glimpse of rusty red,
A furtive caller in the dark, with all the house abed!
She picks the biggest of the hens, the ideal one to steal.
A scratched out hole beneath the fence, a pathway to her meal!

And while she goes about her work my guard dog's fast asleep!
Dreaming those dreams that doggies dream about rewards he'll reap!
But back along the river bank far from the night's ordeal,
In some deep den beneath a bush her kits await their meal.

I hate her not, though I might wish she'd picked another meal.
She has a need like you and I, she really has to steal!
Regard our fellow travellers! This is no fairyland!
For some must kill and others die, it's all been poorly planned!
o0o