19.04.2006 16:23 - Communing with the Wildlife
One of my dad's mates, Derek, was a security guard for the local powerstation. Things being what they were, he spent a lot of time sitting in a little kiosk at the gates of the power station, doing absolutely nothing. He would sit there every night and quietly eat his lunch - a fried-egg toasted sandwich - whilst looking out into the blackness beyond the security point.
Now, power stations are large complex buildings that require a large amount of space for things like cooling towers, and so they tend to cover a large area. This area is fenced off, to prevent people sneaking in and nicking coal. As a result, they tend to act as nature reserves, because, nature, akin to love, laughs at locksmiths, and merrily colonises the slagheaps where no man bothers to set foot. It came as no surprise, then, that one night Derek saw a fox.
This was in the days before Reynard and his chums had realised that there was no future in hanging round the countryside being mobbed by horsy twats and moved en masse to the towns to live off the wastebins behind McDonalds, so a fox was a rare sight. Derek kept his eyes open, and soon found out that this was a vixen, raising her cubs.
One night, he went out and left a piece of his fried egg sandwich where the Vixen would find it. The vixen ate it. Next night, he placed the fried egg sandwich a bit closer to the building and so on, gradually to the point where the vixen had to enter the door. Derek persevered for many months, until finally, one day, the vixen would take the sandwich from his hand.
A week later the Vixen died from clogged arteries.
I think it was that point where Derek decided to become a vegan.