Recently, our sleep has been rudely disturbed by bloodcurdling screeching coming from outside our bedroom window. It’s really spooky, and loud enough to wake the dearly departed in the hallowed churchyard next door.
We couldn’t think what it could be so we asked around. Friends suggested it might be feral cats indulging in a bit of night-time nookie. We weren’t convinced. We remember well our Bodrum days, when we were regularly serenaded by an ear-splitting cat’s chorus as local litters indulged in orgies of Roman proportions. In any case, feral felines aren’t that common round here. No, this sound was altogether different and more sinister. So I did a bit of Googling, like you do, and it turns out it might be foxes. This is what we heard…
Here’s the thing. While foxes are a familiar sight on the mean streets of London, in all our time as village people, we’ve not once seen one. Plenty of rabbits, hedgehogs, squirrels, mice, rats and even the odd muntjac deer, but never a fox. Clearly, our ginger-furred friends are more elusive than their urban cousins.
Apparently, foxes scream at night for a variety of reasons – mating rituals, marking territory, communicating with other foxes. Having been woken up by that chilling racket, I reckon that’s why people of yore believed in ghosts, ghoulies and things that go bump in the night.
