Snow had fallen steadily throughout Christmas eve and Christmas day and although this brought delight to many, there was chaos and disruption throughout the country. 

All their friends said they had the most beautiful old house in the perfect location. It was picturesque, dating from the mid-17th century with large gardens surrounded by woodland. It had cost Victor a small fortune, but he and Katie both loved the South Lakes and as his business was doing so well, they could afford it. The downside was that he worked all the time, in fact since their son James was born 5 years ago, he was rarely home for more than a couple of days a month. Just one more year he kept telling himself, then he would slow down.

“I have to get back to work,” snapped Victor in frustration as he paced around the lounge. He glanced out of the mullioned windows, it was still snowing. Footprints he had made a few minutes earlier as he walked out into the garden to get a decent phone signal were now barely visible. “Accept it, you are trapped here and you will have to spend a little more time with us, surely they can cope in London for a couple of days without you, come and sit by the fire and I’ll bring you a glass of something.” Katie smiled, anxious to reduce the tension.

  James sensed his father was cross, this wasn’t unusual, during the limited time they spent together he would often be shouting down the phone. He watched his father stoke the fire, causing an eruption of sparks followed by a sudden burst of flames. Katie returned with a glass of brandy for Victor and a large glass of original Baileys for herself, no ice. Victor settled into his chair and savoured the brandy, a Camus Ile de Ré Double Matured, it had been recommended by a colleague who fancied himself as a connoisseur, it wasn’t bad at all.  

      
Katie reached over and grabbed Victors hand, “It will be so nice to have you for a little longer, and James will love it, he needs some quality time with you,” she smiled not wanting to elaborate any further. Victor considered this, and accepted it without comment.

Victor woke the next morning, he tried to think of the last time he had not been travelling on Boxing Day, it must have been before they had James and moved to the Lakes. He grabbed his dressing gown and went downstairs to the kitchen where Katie was busy. He put his arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze, she turned around, surprised by the affection, and put her arms around him, kissing him gently. He smiled, then spotting his wellingtons by the door walked over and pulled them on. “Just popping outside, where’s James?” He’s watching T.V. do you want him to come?” “Not just yet,” he replied.
It had stopped snowing but the sky was dark grey, perhaps there was more to come. His first step outside sank over a foot into the snow, Victor looked around, taking in the beauty.  A sudden cascade of snow fell off a tree branch triggering a flight of birds, prompting Victor to continue his quest. Whilst lying in bed he had remembered a bird table which had been in the garden when they bought the house, but he had no idea where it was now. With over three acres of garden to trudge through it was a difficult task and after half an hour he gave up. Returning inside he mentioned it to Katie who immediately told him where it was. After breakfast, he returned to the garden with James plus a carrot, two mandarins and a banana. Katie was brought out to see the fantastic snowman but she was more thrilled to see the excitement on James’s face. Victor had also recovered the bird table which had been lying on its side under a pile of snow amongst some bushes. Happy memories flooded back to him as a child making bird cakes and suet balls with his mother, then setting them out on a bird table and waiting excitedly by the kitchen window to see which birds would turn up. 

He placed the table in a position where they could clearly see it from both the kitchen and study windows. “Right James we are going to make a cake for the birds, come on let’s get cooking.”
 Rummaging through the fridge Victor found lard and suet which he left to slowly melt on the hob in separate pans whilst he searched for more ingredients. Sunflower seeds, oatmeal, peanuts, walnuts, bits of cheese and mince pies were soon found and Victor and James had great fun mixing everything together. James then carefully filled two cake tins with the mixture before Victor poured the melted lard into one and the suet into the other.  “OK we have to let them get cold and they will go hard,” Victor explained “then we can feed them to the birds.”  “Look what we have made mummy,” said James proudly, pointing to the cake tins. “Soon the birds will have food and they won’t die in the cold,” he explained to her in the manner of a concerned conservationist. 

The fox sniffed the air for traces of scent that may indicate food. He had hardly eaten for days and a combination of factors were rapidly weakening him. He sat down in the snow and licked his wound, causing specks of red to scatter and contrast vividly against the snow.  Food had been scarce as the hard frosts which had preceded the snow had driven many of the invertebrates deeper into the ground or other sheltered places and the rabbits and rodents he would normally hunt were not as prevalent. Three days ago, his search had brought him to a farm which filled the air with a variety of aromas, one of which drew him closer. He cautiously slipped past the farm buildings, dogs began to bark and he froze, waiting. They did not seem to be getting closer so he continued, following the scent which was getting stronger, it guided him to the chicken coops, but how to get into them? Patrolling the boundary fence, he found a weakness where, with much digging he managed to scrape underneath. Now inside he ran along the chicken runs, sending the occupants into a frenzy. His prey were protected by fencing and he ran around the runs looking for an entry. The noise generated by the terrified chickens sent the dogs into a rage, but the smell and sight of such a bountiful food supply combined with such hunger outweighed the caution he would normally assume. 

“Thes summat after me bloody chickens,” the farmer shouted leaping out of his chair. He grabbed the shot gun from its position on the kitchen wall then taking the key from his hiding place inside an old teapot, he opened the drawer containing his cartridges. Running outside, he opened the kennel door and two sheepdogs leapt out. With the shot gun loaded he ran to the chicken coops, dogs by his side. “Thes the bugger,” he exclaimed and waited to get a clear shot, the spread of which would not endanger the chickens. The fox was alert to the danger and dashed to the gap under the fence, and as it scrambled through the farmer chose this moment to let of the shot. The fox felt a searing pain at the top of its left leg but fear drove it on and it dashed through the farm building pursued by the dogs. It would have been caught had the farmer not called the dogs back.

For three days the fox had been licking the wound, each time it caused it to bleed again. Limping through the snow he had to keep moving to find food. The combination of the cold, hunger and injury were draining his strength, then suddenly he detected something in the air, food, he crouched down in the snow. It was dark now but the concentration of the scent told him it was near. He waited, motionless to see if would come closer, no, he had to attack, he leapt forwards, the chase was on and the rabbit easily outran him. He stopped, realising the race was over, the pain from his leg causing him to let out a cry, In reality he would not be able to catch anything. He licked his wound for a while then moved on through the snow. He passed through a wood, no berries left on any of the trees so he scraped at the snow to expose the earth. The snow was deep but he managed to get to some soil. For all the energy expended he found an earthworm, meagre pickings for the effort. He continued and he began to pick up new scents, he came out of the trees and slowly moved towards the light ahead. He could detect dogs and cats, animals he had learned to avoid, but there was something else. He was drawn to the bird table but had to raise himself onto his hind legs to reach the source of the smell. Pain shot through his body and he collapsed along with the bird table. He pulled himself up and began to devour the morsels which had spilled onto the ground. 

Victor looked out of his study window, alerted by the sound of the falling table. “Come and look at this,” he called to Katie. They watched in amazement at the fox as Victor declared “I am going to wake James, I want him to see this.” He rushed upstairs and gently put his arm on James’s shoulder and rocked him. “Wake up James, I want to show you something fantastic in the garden. ”” What is it daddy?” he asked, waking up quickly but not quite focussed. Victor picked him up and they looked out of his bedroom window, they could just see the bird table from there. “Can you see the fox?”  

“Yes,” James shouted excitedly, now fully awake. “We will see it better from downstairs,” Victor said and quickly carried him down into the study. There the three of them watched the fox as it finished off the scraps then made its way slowly out of sight. “Isn’t that fantastic to have a fox in our garden,” Katie declared. Victor was thrilled as much as James, although he had seen urban foxes in London, which he loved, there was something special about having a countryside fox, it seemed wilder. “Did you see it limping?” Katie mentioned to Victor once they had managed to get James off to sleep again. “Yes, but I didn’t want to say anything at the time,” he replied.

The next morning Katie made breakfast whilst Victor checked the possibilities of getting back to London, “If we can drive out of the house and down the lane, I think the main roads and rail networks will be up and running again,” he stated. Katie’s heart sank, it had been so good to have Victor around for a little longer. Perhaps they should all move to London, she was thinking, but to sell this lovely house…., family was more important, she would consider the move after Victor had gone back, yet this was Victors dream to live here, a dilemma to be sorted. “I am just going out to put the bird table back up, have we any spare mince pies I could have?” he asked smiling. “Well at least the animals are appreciating them,” she replied passing him the tin. Katie’s pastry was unbeatable, you couldn’t buy anything as good in the shops, and these were the last of them. Victor sneaked one in his mouth as he walked outside, he couldn’t resist.
 He put the bird table up again and as he was crumbling the mince pies onto it, he looked down and saw patches of red on the snow, following the trail of blood he saw the fox curled up under the hedge. Gingerly he moved towards it but it did not stir. He was now so close he could touch it. He retreated cautiously and took a pair of thick gardening gloves from the shed. Again, he approached it without any response, and he gently prodded it. The fox raised its head and attempted to move but it was too weak. Victor saw the blood stains around it. Back in the house he looked up the location of the nearest vets then gave them a call explaining he was bringing in a fox. Lifting the fox into a wheelbarrow lined with paper he wheeled it to his Land Rover Discovery and carefully lifted him onto the blankets put in by Katie. “Come on everyone,” Victor declared and they made their way down the snow-covered lane to the road which had now been cleared. Katie felt a little disappointed as now she knew Victor could get back to London, but she was relieved for the fox. 

The vet’s prognosis was not good. The fox had lost a lot of blood and was very weak, but the x-rays showed the shot which had entered its body had not damaged any vital organs. “Do whatever you can,” said Victor, “I will cover the costs, when will we know if he is going to be OK?” he continued. “Perhaps a couple of days” the Vet replied.

“Where are we going?” Katie asked, as they were not driving in the direction of their house. “I want to go to town and buy some bird seed and feeders,” Victor replied. “What about getting back to London?” asked Katie somewhat surprised.  “I can’t leave until I know about the fox, and as someone recently told me, London can cope without me for a few more days.” He smiled, he would consider how to make the move back here permanently, family was more important than London and he wanted to feed the birds with his son. The bird table had brought him to his senses, this was the life he needed, he felt relaxed for the first time in years.