My Florida

Falling For Foxes (Fox Fables, Vol. 2)

By Melody Murphy [melody@ocalasgoodlife.com]

Foxes and the holiday season—both can be magical. Here are the final fox fables I promised you last time.

Seven years ago on the night before Thanksgiving, I went outside to find the most gorgeous, brilliantly red fox I’ve ever seen. It was a cold evening, with a hard freeze predicted. The sky was on fire with a glorious orange-and-purple sunset. The setting sun lit up his coat like a scarlet autumn leaf the wind had blown out of the woods. A rose-gold glow illuminated the trees.

We took a leisurely walk together. He stayed a few paces ahead, looking back to make sure I was following. He seemed pleased to have company. “Aren’t I beautiful?” his expression said. We circled the house three times. And then, poised at the edge of the woods, he looked back at me, sprang into the shadows, and disappeared. It wouldn’t be the last time I would take a walk with a fox. I sang gospel to a fox on a December night four years ago. I was driving home with the windows down on a chilly evening, the full moon an ethereal pale gold. Christmas lights illuminated my neighborhood and Christmas music filled my car. I was singing alto harmony to a bluegrass version of “Beautiful Star of Bethlehem.”

A creature crossed the street in front of me. From its shape and movements, it was not a cat—but almost—yet it was not quite a dog. It was a fox.

He stopped in a yard to look at me, cocking his head with interest. I sang a little more. He sat down on his haunches and swished his tail with a satisfied expression, and I thought, “My word, I have found a red fox that likes bluegrass gospel. Truly this is my spirit animal.”

I sang another verse. He listened, then got up and headed north, still watching me. I drove alongside and sang the chorus to him. He seemed to enjoy the music. We cruised the block, the fox trotting beside my car and gazing up at me for the rest of the song. And with the last “shine on,” he gave me a look of approval and faded into the shadows.

Last December while walking in the cemetery behind my house on a cold golden afternoon, I came upon a pretty little fox, reddish-grey with a sweet face.

Grey foxes are notoriously secretive and elusive, most often seen at dusk. Yet here was one standing under an oak tree in the bright light of day like he was waiting for me.

We observed each other for a long moment. He seemed young and curious. Then he trotted south, looking back every few steps to make sure I was behind him. He even sat down under a tree to wait for me to catch up.

He looked back at me and leaped through a hedge. I followed and wandered quietly through the shadows and sunshine until I found him waiting. We regarded each other, then he sprang through another hedge. He seemed playful, not frightened. We repeated this pattern until I realized we were playing hide and seek.

The last time, I found him sitting in a grassy plot. I sat down on a bench on one side of a low hedge and he sat down on the other. We looked at each other for a long time. Then he curled up like a dog, lay his little head on his paws, and took a nap. It was like he wanted me to keep vigil so he could rest easy. I obliged him.

When he woke up, he stretched, yawned, and gave me a nod. Then he bounded through the hedge, vanishing for good and leaving me dazed with the wonder of this fairytale fox encounter.

Have a magical holiday season!