Foxes
It’s not a metaphor, or other kind of symbolism. They are little urban survivors, existing someplace on the fringe of society, but thriving, these days. Another, similar critter, a raccoon made nest in the attic — briefly — before I had to pay out-of-pocket for “critter mitigation” services. Using a live trap baited with marshmallow, one morning there was small fox in the trap. Let him go as he wasn’t tearing up insulation and roofing tiles.
Years go by.
The backyard has a floodlight that is motion activated. Like most old men, I woke up in the middle of the night to — at the urging of an aging bladder — I was awake, and I heard scampering across the rooftop. More than a squirrel, and in the middle of the night, briefly dreading a return of a raccoon. About two slow heartbeats later, the backyard light comes on, triggered by motion within a certain parameter. I look out the window.
Foxes
I don’t think that foxes are herd creatures, but there were two, trotting along and almost playing with each other, then a third, slightly smaller, cutting across the back porch. Aging gray hair, tipped with red highlights, a distinctive bushy tail, sleek bodies, and a pointed face with clear triangular ears: foxes. The whole family, possibly, three cruising through the night, pausing, scavenging.
My current “backyard” is a carefully collated collection of crushed pecan shells and gravel, Live Oak, and whatever plants I can maintain in pots on the patio. “Darwinian Gardening” (see Sagittarius). There’s one spot along the back fence, previous tenants let a vine grow, and I’ve left that. There’s another spot where a particularly heinous bramble tries to sprout, and I’ll yank it out and spray weed killer in its place; the thorns are painful. About all I do. There is a small animal scat, littered amongst the leaves, and now I’m guessing this is from the foxes.
One time I did find the partial remains of a bat, the skull and wings were just sun-dried bones with precious little meat, guts, leather, or flesh left. I wasn’t sure who scrounged that. Now I have a clue.
Foxes
It’s easy to recall, some years back, a distinct memory from behind the store fronts, in the alleyway, in the pre-dawn twilight? Used to get up and walk to a coffee shop, get that morning brew, a couple of miles, round-trip, perfect way to start a day, back when getting up at 5 AM was a thing for us.
In that urban setting, against a concrete drainage catchment tank, along the walls, skirting the fencing, I remember a large grey fox, slightly dished-in face, and at first, I thought it was a giant tomcat. The relative stealth with its inherent irreverence, though, and a clear look under the alley’s safety spotlights, it was a dog, or dog-like critter: an urban grey fox.
That happened in October, because it was right on my father’s birthday. Sister always claims animal communications with our dad, and while I’m less understanding, the point was clear, old grey fox on his birthday?
Make of it what you will.
That sighting prompted a quick little look at material about urban foxes, and there are two varieties that flourish here, the aforementioned grey fox, and the smaller, more lithe red fox.
The one caught in the live trap, when we were hunting raccoon? That could very easily be one of the bigger ones, now, and the coloring is consistent with the tinges of red along with the sharp face, pointed ears.
Haven’t seen the grey fox, and I am rarely up that early to walk, these days. Just, you know, not a thing anymore.
Foxes
After working through several layers of coyotes and their ilk, both academic and in myth? I briefly wondered if the critters were really foxes or maybe inner-city coyotes.
Definitely foxes.
Is the spirit world trying to communicate with me? Are deceased relatives messaging me from beyond the veil?
I’ve watched as the various foxes take a running start at the fence, grab a foothold halfway up on the crossmember, and then vault along the top, with much cat-like precision. The low rooftops, the various fence lines, none of this poses a challenge, more like a springboard, for the lithe, little creatures, really, more feline than canine.
Over the years, neighbor across the street noted how the foxes used the rooftops more than the street, easier to cover ground?
Fox, along with Raven, and Coyote?
These are natural tricksters of the animal kingdom, and symbolically, the best political operatives.
In the past, and in the future, I have a simple request, if the message isn’t clear? Please, clear it up. Make it simple enough that I can understand it.
Or maybe it was just suburban wildlife.
Shrug.
the Portable Mercury Retrograde
