Getting food, by hook or by rook

WAS it that they were blinded by the sunlight and didn’t see me, the two young foxes sitting on a ridge 200 metres away, their thick fur russet against the grass and their white chests very pale?

They sat looking in my direction as might a couple of dogs — at first, I took them for dogs — resting on their backsides and propped on their slim front legs. A pretty picture they made, a charming composition of the type one might see cast in porcelain on a mantelpiece.

After a minute, one rose to its feet and walked about, sniffing the grass, and then disappeared from sight over the ridge. Its companion remained, seemingly staring at me, but I believe it wasn’t. It simply couldn’t see me against the sun shining into its eyes and making the field between us shine like a mirror. This conclusion seemed correct when, as I moved, it suddenly jumped to its feet and bounded for the ditch, 20m away, its fine, fat bush flying. It had seen me.