The Return of Ferdinand Fox

Dear Editor,

Do you remember me? - the cheeky cub that told you all the happenings in Porchfields. I had two brothers and a sister and a super Mammy and we lived in an earth near the Sheepgate, a great place for growing up - we knew all the 'regulars'; Linda Gunning Joe McNally, Tom na gCapaillin - that was May 2000.

In the autumn I left home and linked up with a few 'buckos' around Tara Mine. Boy! We fairly hit the hot spots in Navan; ravished the odd pheasant hatchery and poultry run - just for practice. I was cute enough to stay away from Trim - think of the 'dressing-down' I'd get from Mom: 

"You're turning into a right hooligan - a disgrace after a respectable rearing!"

But life can put manners on you. On the 13th April this year I got word - "A gang of blackguards dug out your mother's earth and killed her in cold blood and slung her body up into a fork of the beech tree - like a common criminal." I was sick with grief - blamed myself: "Why did you not stay to protect her." The cold horror of it. "I hate humans!" 

For weeks I wandered the countryside, not caring for food nor cover - scarcely knowing where I was. This morning I found myself back in Porchfields beside the Yellow Steeple and who should I see but Tom na gCapaillín. He hasn't changed a bit - same quiet gentleman. Pauline called him Bomso: she put a 'B' before everything - a slow learner - 'unusual in a woman' Mom used to say with a smile. 

I began to feel better even though a half-dozen 'hoors' of spiteful swallows never stopped buzzing me. When a fellow is down, there'll be those to pick on you! I'll find inner peace again - already people are offering sympathy. They want to see the blackguards punished. "Write a letter to the paper" they say and now I've done that. 

Thank you very sincerely, 

Your friend

Ferdinand

Reproduced from: Trim Focus, 24th June, 2005