Lately, Facebook has besieged me with adverts for photo “editing” software, which I think most of us would classify as something else. Lightening, cropping, removing noise etc is part of being a good photographer, but extreme editing / Photoshopping is not for me. I enjoy digital art that’s clearly labelled as such, but nature wants to be natural and authentic. And sometimes the imperfect photos speak loudest.
Yesterday’s fox sighting. I’m sure there are photographers who would edit out the fence, but that would strip away the context, the reality in which this fox lives. Once, wild mammals had the run of these islands. Their England – the wildlife-accessible England – has shrunk; simple wire like this won’t keep a fox out, but the modern trend by horse keepers to electrify mile after mile of field boundaries does seriously concern me.
For the luckier foxes, a view over a protected hillside into the Weald.
And for the luckiest small birds, a frame of thorns. Long-tailed tits, like everything else, are having to contend with bitter temperatures this week and seek food to power warmth in their tiny bodies.
While the garden foxes have enough energy to spare on petty squabbles. The left one here is arching his back in assertive dominance, while his gaping rival lowers himself like a nervous cat.
And the sun runs away from them all. It’s going to be a cold night.