June 30: Young foxes
Jun. 30th, 2010 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neverspentToday was hot, but not quite so hot -- below 95 degrees, low humidity, and by evening there was a breeze, so that it felt so comfortable, I did the unthinkable for the middle of summer: opened my windows and went to sit outside. While there was still some daylight!
And that's how I saw the fox. I was sitting out on my balcony, and I saw movement on the hill just below me, not twenty feet away. It was a thin, gangly fox. With its appearance, its naive boldness, and its puppyish demeanor, I was sure right away that it was a juvenile. It trotted across the open ground between two stands of large trees (sweet gums and oaks) and paused under a gum tree, looking warily at traffic for a moment, and then it began nosing the ground, finding and crunching little snacks. Occasionally it would sit down on its haunches, then get up and keep foraging.
It was just as you imagine red foxes: rusty red fur with darker legs and tail and a white tail tip. I worried that it was here, across the wide, busy road from the safety of the brush and woods. Crepuscular (active at twilight). Was it independent from its mother already? I almost wanted to go downstairs, stop traffic, and chase it back across the road, but I knew that kind of interference was more likely to be tragic. At one point I noticed movement at the top of my vision: another young fox, just managing to get across the road and into the brush without being hit by a car. So there was a littermate! Back in the winter, I saw one of the parents a few times, far below and across the road. They were much more discreet than these foolish children.
I watched my little fox for twenty minutes or so, until the lightning bugs were blinking and the bats swooping near my head and the light was almost gone. Then I waited another couple of minutes and finally, to my intense relief, I saw my fox lope safely across the road and into the brush.
And that's June.
And that's how I saw the fox. I was sitting out on my balcony, and I saw movement on the hill just below me, not twenty feet away. It was a thin, gangly fox. With its appearance, its naive boldness, and its puppyish demeanor, I was sure right away that it was a juvenile. It trotted across the open ground between two stands of large trees (sweet gums and oaks) and paused under a gum tree, looking warily at traffic for a moment, and then it began nosing the ground, finding and crunching little snacks. Occasionally it would sit down on its haunches, then get up and keep foraging.
It was just as you imagine red foxes: rusty red fur with darker legs and tail and a white tail tip. I worried that it was here, across the wide, busy road from the safety of the brush and woods. Crepuscular (active at twilight). Was it independent from its mother already? I almost wanted to go downstairs, stop traffic, and chase it back across the road, but I knew that kind of interference was more likely to be tragic. At one point I noticed movement at the top of my vision: another young fox, just managing to get across the road and into the brush without being hit by a car. So there was a littermate! Back in the winter, I saw one of the parents a few times, far below and across the road. They were much more discreet than these foolish children.
I watched my little fox for twenty minutes or so, until the lightning bugs were blinking and the bats swooping near my head and the light was almost gone. Then I waited another couple of minutes and finally, to my intense relief, I saw my fox lope safely across the road and into the brush.
And that's June.