A Moment with the Fox

As I described in an earlier post (see Animals are People of Another Culture), occasionally I happen upon one of our traveling foxes as he/she/they are passing through our orchard, lawn or woods.  Last night I was in the orchard to mow and water the fig tree and some Arizona Cyprus we planted last year, and there beneath one of the cherry trees (the one which had the latest crop) was a fox, sitting quietly, calmly, looking straight at me, ears erect and eyes clear.  Alas, I had only my blackberry at the time, so the photos (see below) which I took are very grainy.  These guys seem to come and go quickly, but always leave a huge impression.  Hopefully, one of these days I’ll have my camera when we meet again.

On this occasion, because I’ve seen cherry pits in fox scat around the property lately*, I’m sure the little fellow was waiting for the birds to drop cherries down for him to snap up.  Unfortunately for him, the birds were there and scolding him mercilessly, but the cherries were all recently gone.

The fox was turning reddish, as they do this time of year, with some of his winter gray. When he finally turned to walk away, with a casual, penetrating backward glance, his poise and energetic nature took my breath away.  What a joy to see such fully realized foxness.

The Fox Sits Calmly under the Cherry

The Fox Moseys On His Way

One Last Look

Then the fox jumped elegantly off into the tall grass and scotch broom, towards the flowing irrigation ditch and the woods beyond.

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* Just a little note about a fascinating habit of the foxes around here. I’ve researched this a bit, and though I haven’t been able to find a reference to confirm it,  I’m certain of it nevertheless: foxes love to poop on top of anything that is of prominence. They poop on top of fence posts, on rocks, on roots, on bumps in the ground, and so on.  I once saw fox  scat, black and ropey, perfectly laid over a new red pen that had been dropped on a path nearby. This has always caused my wife and me endless delight and laughter.  We’re always amused at the new and ridiculous ways the foxes choose to mark their territory with their apparently musk-scented poop. The greatest laughter comes from attempting to envision the manner in which the fox would have to perch, delicately, and with great focus and precision, in order to deposit his curious territorial stamp.