I was working in my study yesterday afternoon when flashes of rich chestnut brown raised my eyes from the open book on the desk. Two mature foxes were chasing one another around the lawn immediately in front of me. There was no timidity in their play. They sprinted, twisted, jumped over one another and skidded on their green playground. I could see their tongues lolling from the sides of their mouths, their flanks heaving from their boisterous play. They were entirely oblivious of my presence.
As if by mutual agreement they both then ceased their play. They were now wary animals once more, glancing around them and sniffing the air. Both foxes trotted with purposeful gait and straight backs towards a small copse to my right and then disappeared. The interlude in my work had come to an end.