My, I was surprised yesterday morning to glance out the living room window and see a fox trotting across the yard. Who knows what drew the critter–the first of it’s kind seen on our property in the 21 years we’ve lived here–to grace our snow covered lawn with it’s dainty feet. Perhaps the fox is as enamored with Hiram’s cross country ski trail as the squirrels are. Those bushy-tailed rodents zip down the man of steel’s carefully groomed trails like they’re on the interstate.
But I digress.
Back to yesterday morning’s bushy-tailed non-rodent. The fox. It was trotting toward the edge of the yard at an impressive pace, but just as I grabbed the camera, our visitor struck a majestic pose. I managed a few shots through the window–hence the blur created by the screen–and then followed my model’s gaze to see what it was staring at.
It was another fox.
Just as big as the first, but quicker on its feet. Much quicker. Frisky. Really frisky. Like I-just-got-wheels-and-you-can’t-stop-me teenager frisky. So frisky that when I swung my camera to digitally capture the visitor’s image, this is what I got.
Like I said. Frisky.
The more sedate older fox, who gave the distinct impression of the tired parent of an impulsive teen, joined its frisky counterpart, and they rounded the side of the house. By the time I made it to the dining room and looked outside, the foxes were on the far side of the hedge. They crossed our driveway without looking both ways, slipped through the fence, and disappeared into the neighbors trees.
Easy come. Easy go.
I put the camera away, thankful for the pictures I’d taken. Thankful to be inside on a winter day instead of outside trotting across the snow. Thankful I’m no longer the tired parent of teenagers. Thankful for the unexpected beauty of one fox, two fox, old fox, new fox on a winter day.
Thankful.
