Like some vulpine apparition, seeing a fox in an unexpected place is equal parts mystery and magic. Long enough to give you a stoic glance, fleeting enough to leave you questioning whether it happened at all.
On one of our many walks, Locksley and I spotted a fox. We’d see her several more times until we spotted a rustling in the underbrush. Kits! It was impossible to tell how many baby foxes there were–they were well hidden in all that greenery–but it was a pleasure to know they were there all the same.
But with a little thoughtfulness, a little observation, their presence was still evident.
I hope we’ll get to see our fox family again, but even if we don’t it’s a pleasure to know something that enchanting was so close to home.