For most of the south UK, today has been a wet & windy wash-out of a day so i thought i'd catch up on some unfinished DIY. Around 5pm I had just packed the tools away and walked up to the green house when my wife came out and shouted to me that there was a fox in the garden trying to get in the chicken pen. Running back to the house mad panic ensured as I battled to get 5 dogs shut in when they knew something was a foot and were all trying to get out. As I passed the back window I saw foxy still there scraping at the wire, fumbling in my pocket I got the rifle cabinet keys out, opened the door and thought 'which gun? Seconds passed as I tried to decide, the .243' moderator was unscrewed, the .22LR might not stop him, so I grabbed the .17HMR fitted with a Pulsar N750 not really ideal for daylight but will do the job. So trying to rush but not fumble I opened the ammo box, got the magazine, fitted the bolt and ran up stairs. By this time foxy was still there but had moved halfway across the field to my second chicken pen looking for an easier way in. I opened the window, foxy looked up at me and moved quickly to the hedge I got him in the sight & squeaked to stop him. He stopped. looking at me, I concentrated on the shot and......................the batteries in the NV failed and all went black and my Todd trotted off down the valley.
Any suggestions as to the moral of this experience?