Ford Farm, Newent, 14 May
I am standing on a small narrow bridge where a footpath crosses a stream. I am surrounded by trees and wild garlic as I sketch the stream below. A rustling in the undergrowth, and a fox cub tentatively approaches me. There is a worn path through the ransomes over the bridge, presumably thye fox's own footpath. After a few minutes and a few wary advances the fox passes me only about a foot way and scampers off to the other side of the stream.