I know there is a fox who lives in a small wildlife garden in the City of London. There are telltale signs—leftovers from a recent meal scattered on the grass…a hole in the foliage leading to a den by the pond…trodden down trails through the wild flowers…fox scat…and evidence of take-aways.
Leftovers from a recent meal…
A hole in the foliage leading to a den…
Foxholes revealed after late summer scything…
I photographed this fox scat (reckon scat is about two days old) when flies were having their lunch! The flies help show the scale and average size of a fox faeces.
My first sighting of the fox was when he poked his head out from a bush—making me gasp and almost drop my camera! He withdrew his head back sharpish into hiding in a flash of red. I am sure it was the involuntary gasp that made him scarper. Drat! It left me standing holding my unused (poised in hope) camera. He was too quick ‘quick runs the fox’ for me. I should like to have caught the fox on camera! What a photo it might have been! To capture its beautiful face framed by the leaves round the foxhole lit by a ray of warm sunshine. Ah, another great shot missed!
The second time I saw him. I was strolling round a corner along a narrow path and we met unannounced within a yard of each other. He was sitting in a pool of golden sunshine nuzzling a wildflower. Yet again, my exclamation of surprise and delight startled him. And he bolted! The disappointed camera lay limp in my hand. I dwell on how the shot could have won the next ‘Photographer Of The Year Award’! (it would surprise you the award-winning photographs I almost get! haha) . But the image of him sniffing a wildflower is burnt into my retina forever.
I feel sorry for disturbing his reverie.
Third Time Lucky?
The third sighting came today. Third time lucky don’t they say? Will I get the photograph I long for?
I am sitting on the bench reading a detective thriller in fading summer light, when a movement in the undergrowth draws my attention. I hold my camera up in hope. He disappears. Hmmm, third time might not be so lucky afterall…
I go back to reading my book.
Then, I sense him.
He is close. Very close. I turn to look behind me. He is a breath away. I rise slowly and point my camera (controlling my gasps of excitement this time!). He hasn’t seen me. I turn on video mode.
The fox was sniffing the ground… at the base of a tree… and then he came right up close to me…
1 minute film of City Fox (and poem!)
The fox is sniffing the ground
Moving through the leaves
Walking silent with no sound
Sifting slow below the trees
City fox all bright and good
Hunting for his tea
He comes straight toward me
Where I’m stood
Beside the bench
Beside the tree
I hold tight my breath and dare not stir
I stay in shadow out of sight
Not wanting to scare him or affright
To make him flee
dash off, take flight
He doesn’t know I’m here
He’s stealing by
Then stops so near
But does not see me yet
When I catch his eye
Our eyes are met!
Away he flees
To the fence
Beyond the trees.
The aim of being a member of the #WATWB writing group is to share a good story in no more than 500 words on the last Friday of each month—with no story being too big or too small, as long as it isn’t about politics, religion and doom mongering.
I hope my poem of City Fox has the required feel good factor and fulfills the #WATWB happy story mandate.
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