The Fox mum scouts the horizons as the farm breeze strokes her pelt. Ear forward, large and rotating, she hears every stir. The protection of mum is imposing and reassuring. The air is dry and dusty, yet it is home too us, we love it here. There is nowhere left to shelter. We have come this far, avoiding danger as we departed.... Now home is threatened.

The cunning jackal feast as often as anything comes across its nose. A sly dog, creeps at night. And run as fast as it can at light.