The Gray’s Inn fox

I’m on an old-fashioned quest. Having got permission to enter The Walks, I open the gate with the large metal key. It creaks with age. These gardens have existed since 1597, when Francis Bacon planted the first trees.

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Woodcock, Waterloo

Stooping carefully, I see what I have. Two wings, legs, breast meat partially removed. I lift the remains and look around. No sign of the head. Only the perfect woodcock form spread into my hand.

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