Part 1

June 2, 2018.  Sometimes the Lookie Here is mediated by ripple of water, an unexpected splash. Sometimes by a flash and flutter of wings or unfamiliar birdsong. Sometimes by the sight of something totally peculiar and without any sense-making context for understanding it.

And sometimes by one strange, high-pitched, sharp bark, demanding “Lookie here!” in bold letters.

So it was, in early June, late afternoon, as we worked in the yard, we heard a sound we had never heard before.  Not quite a dog bark. Unless the dog was trying to cough up a chicken bone stuck in its throat. We turned to look and saw there, standing in the driveway, looking right at us, a Fox! We stood still and stared at it and it stared at us.  A couple of scrubjays flew down to harass the creature with their raucous cries. Fox didn’t budge. Wow. Totally unbelievable. We were struck with awe. And shock, really.  Shock and awe…. In a most wonderful, beautiful and totally surprising way!

Too soon the spell was broken by mosquitos and heat, and Fox had moved a little bit away.

Though I had recently spotted Fox in the orchard a couple of times—resting under the apple tree and, once, leaping up into the apple tree—I had not had such a close interactive encounter, only quick and blurry glimpses.

I rushed inside to find my camera, then carefully, quietly crept out the door to see if there would be any opportunity to take a photo if he was still nearby. I heard that strange bark again! When I had walked out far enough to look where we had seen him, there he was. And he barked at me! And, trying to imitate his sound, I barked back—my version being a high-pitched rough throaty “FOX!”  That exchange went on for a few rounds. I wanted to get closer.  With each step in his direction, he barked and I barked. He didn’t quite run away, he just kept moving as I moved, barking as if to have me follow, not to scare me off.

Eventually he went through the fence to the neighboring property and into the cedar thicket where I could not see him anymore, though he kept up his singular bark.

Never having had a conversation with a fox before, I walked around in dazed amazement the rest of the evening, feeling oh-so-lucky to have made his acquaintance, and happy to have snapped a few photos as evidence of the encounter.

Part 2

June 6, 2018.  A couple of days went by with no further meetings or conversation with Fox. And on the fourth morning, about 8, I went out for a look-about to enjoy the summer morning. And just as I begin my stroll, I see Fox on the driveway, greeting me in our now customary “Hello, You.”

And the game begins. I approach, he moves a little bit away, gives me a bark, and I move closer and he moves a little distance away…and he eventually goes through the fence into the neighbor’s property. But he doesn’t hide or run away. He poses, handsome devil that he is. He barks as if someone taught him that that’s what he’s supposed to do, but it doesn’t seem to mean much. There’s a certain nonchalance to it. But it holds my attention. Which I later understood was the point of it all.

He barks, he poses in the morning sun. The harassing blue scrub jays fly in, squawking, and one sits near him.

He reclines, he closes his eyes, he puts his head down. He gets up to bark again and we share a few more words as I walk back to the house. I’ve got to sit down.

He couldn’t have been more that 20 or 30 feet from me! He was so handsome and relaxed, even as he barked. He is missing a lower canine on the left side and he has a little nick in his ear. And he’s beautiful.

The morning’s encounter left me dazzled.

Part 3

June 7, 2018.  With all that,  I still wasn’t prepared for what happened next. On the morning of the following day, I went out with my camera as usual, to see what I could see, not daring to hope for another fox experience. Still, I went out the door quietly…and through the gate slowly…and stepped out to where I could see the big rock pile.

And there he was, sitting on the top of that pile, with his back was to me. He hadn’t seen or heard me. I called out “FOX!” and there was no response. I “barked” again…and he turned around.  This wasn’t Fox. This was Baby Fox! I just could not believe my eyes!

When I went over to the rock pile to investigate, the little fox scurried into the pile at the same time another fox came out barking quite seriously at me.  Turns out it was Mama Fox and she was on a mission to distract me and draw me away from the rock pile. And that worked! I couldn’t stop watching her—so beautiful, so focused, so deliberate and urgent in her distraction.

Alas, we haven’t seen or heard the foxes since then, though we could hear the rough raucous calls of the scrub jays in a copse of cedar and oak across a field in the neighbor’s property. I think they were not happy to have had the fox family relocate there. And then, after a few more days, we didn’t hear the birds there anymore.

I’m guessing that their hanging out at the big rock pile was a temporary sojourn. It seemed to me that Fox had brought food for the journey: I found the head of a young deer there near the rocks…and a turkey vulture waiting for it. But a short time later, the head was gone. Pretty sure the vulture didn’t carry it off. I don’t think they do that. They just eat where they find the food.