Chicken runs are lots of fun
But long before the fun is done
Out comes Farmer with his gun.
I eat the bran meant for the pigs
Create havoc with my digs.
In summer I can lie and doze
In the shade of the dogrose.
But once October`s days are born
I listen for the huntsman`s horn.
I slink under a hedgerow bottom
Hide behind a log that`s rotten.
Listen to the braying hounds
Hope and trust that I`m not found.
But if my scent`s a giveaway
No longer any time to play.
Can`t run faster than the hounds
So sometimes hide out underground.
They dig me out with spade and fork
My life is ended, cut off short
Torn to pieces in the name of sport.
Author notes
Fox hunting with dogs has been officially banned in England for a few years now, but still takes place under different guises.
A contest entry
- sly by Pete Greenslade.
300 points, ended May 9, 2007, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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a pleasure to read this poem! images that made me smile and admire and think you must have enjoyed writing this fine entry because it has a really good spirit about it.
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K9's taught to rip another k-9 to pieces.If way back when this horrid ritual started.There was an over abundance of Fox. There still where more humane ways to keep them out of the hen houses.Excellent piece from the Fox's point of view.
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super
a very good entry , thanks for your contribution.a very good insight
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Wow! I didn't know they still hunt them... This poem seen through the eyes of the fox is very thought provoking and sad. I wish he could have gotten away. Awesome write
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