It might just be the unseasonably cold weather, but there seems to be a distinct lack of foxes this winter keeping Londoners awake with their drawn out, shrill mating rituals.
Anyone living near allotments, parks, squares, or railway and canal embankments - basically any green space or wasteland, where London's foxes reside - will know the sound. The screams are like those from a horror movie, and last for hours. By this time of year, there are usually noisy late-night fights, in which the nocturnal creatures defend their territory against rivals. Next month, foxes will battle cats seeking their cubs.
Foxes are rife in the capital. With 16 per sq km, on average, the population is booming, enticed by overflowing refuse bins of fast food, and helped, curiously, by local councils unwilling to cull them for fear of losing votes: 80 per cent of Londoners, according to one poll, like foxes. Last year, I saw lunchtime crowds gather at one area in North London to coo over two foxes brazenly snacking from a bin.
But many householders are now fed up with having their gardens soiled, their pets attacked - one lost a GBP1,500 ($20,200) koi carp - their beauty sleep disturbed and, more pertinently, their lawns dug up. Even premiership football club Charlton Athletic have had their pitch ruined by foxes. Some have called in licensed pest controllers, many of whom trap the foxes and free them in the countryside, much to the chagrin of rural folk.
Now, a new breed of 'controller' has emerged: more Dirty Harry than trapper, they are trained pest controllers, armed with infrared nightscope rifles and licences to kill, courtesy of a firearms' permit. (Anyone can legally shoot a fox, as long as they have such a licence - however, it is illegal to poison them).
The hired gunmen are bagging up to 30 a week. Wealthy householders are happy to pay the bounty of up to GBP40 a fox; one hunter killed 23 in one night. There was even a cull at a cemetery, after foxes reportedly dug up human remains.
