Everyone
has experienced moving, either to a new apartment or home. Those who
live in large cities know how different areas of a city can be and if
you desire to get closer to nature, you need to do a little research
before moving. We moved into a new home a few years back and
immediately fell in love with the location of our property. It’s
in a beautiful area of our city, with a creek running along its
boundary and it sits next to a densely wooded area. There are also
two beautiful man-made lakes at the entrance of our subdivision
adding both beauty and habitat; they are alive with all manner of
wildlife, which is exactly what we wanted.
The
large parcel of land on which our new neighborhood was built was once
a tree nursery and as such, fostered many mature trees scattered
within its boundaries. These were obviously trees which never sold,
but now offered an array of charm and beauty; they included elms, red
maple, pin oak, southern magnolia and many other varieties. In fact,
all the beautiful trees were the feature that attracted us to the
neighborhood to begin with; we wanted trees in our yard and we’ve
got plenty of them.
The
land where our neighborhood sat for several years prior to
development, with all the trees, the creek and of course, high
grasses and weeds, created an abundant space for wild life. For
several months, our house was the only one in the immediate area and
we were treated to encounters of all kinds of God’s creatures,
roaming right around our new home. Sure, we enjoyed watching the
builders erect new houses where new neighbors would soon live, but we
enjoyed the animals much more. I recall one morning when we awoke
early and looking out our bedroom window, we saw five deer grazing on
the new lawn of a house which had recently been completed. I could
not help but feel a pang of guilt; it was not they who were
encroaching, but rather it was us humans who were spoiling they’re
habitat. We were slowly driving them from this plentiful wild life
sanctuary.
I
know this is not uncommon. I have read numerous stories from all
parts of the country; is it any wonder we see so many animals killed
on our streets and highways? Still, many of these beautiful
creatures seem to refuse to be driven out and who can blame them?
Raccoons aplenty still live in our neighborhood and I suppose they
always will. Possums are common place as well and our dog gives them
wide berth, even though they truly are very gentle creatures. They
sure look menacing when they bare their teeth and if I were a dog,
I’d not want to get into a fracas with them, large or small. In fact,
all our dog Missy ever did was bark at creatures, except for
squirrels of course, which seem to always want to play. She wisely
avoided extensive investigation of the animal population and I’m
happy for that, believe me; there are many skunks in our neighborhood
and we often smell their spray on warm summer evenings. Apparently
some of our neighborhood pooches were learning the hard way.
Naturally
our lakes draw the attention of ducks and geese and they have
apparently become a favorite summer home for several flocks, but I
suppose the funniest thing that happened to us occurred one warm
summer evening. We had gotten into the habit of taking our dog out
to our front lawn, off leash, letting her do her final bit of
business before bedding down for the night. Although it was often
midnight of after, she couldn’t resist walking down our
sidewalk, going several houses away from us. She seemed somewhat
leery of going beyond a certain border, simply because she thought
one of us should be right beside her before she could safely
continue. She would often stop and look back as if saying, “Hey
guys, what gives. Come on, can't you catch up?” This
particular evening Teresa had taken Missy out and decided to stay
close to her as she roamed and sniffed. We always dutifully used a
plastic bag to pick up the presents she left on our neighbors lawns,
so Teresa wanted to stay close so she could spot the inevitable
remains. They had gotten to the corner of our yard, when Teresa
noticed a dark figure on the back of our neighbor’s driveway. Later,
she said she was sure she had seen the outline of a fairly
good size dog, standing about sixty or seventy feet away from her.
Darkness covered the creature pretty well, but doing what she thought
was needed, my bride scolded the animal; “You go home now. Do
you hear me? You go home,” she instructed. But the creature
just stood and stared at her as she spoke. Fearing it might run and
attack our dog she picked up our little cock-a-poo and continued
telling the unwelcomed animal to “go home.”
I
was inside on this warm summer evening; it was Teresa’s turn to
take Missy out for that last potty run and suddenly I heard a scream,
certainly loud enough to wake the few neighbors we had. I rushed to
the door to see what was happening. Amazingly, none of our neighbors
heard Teresa let out that ear-piercing scream, but the poor animal
she saw heard it and finally reacted as any creature would. He (or
she) took off in a flash. By this time I was standing next to
Teresa, asking her what the heck happened? The creature was nowhere
in sight. She said, “We saw a wolf, or something and I yelled
at it, ‘go home,’ but it didn’t move and I began to
see the outline a little more clearly. It was a wolf, or a coyote,”
she said. Well, I knew it wasn’t a wolf. We live in a superb
of Louisville, Ky., nowhere near wolf territory. However, I thought
it could have been a coyote and although we had never seen a coyote
anywhere near our place, we had heard reports of someone spotting one
on a road near our house. We headed back inside to talk about it
and as Teresa continued describing it, I began to think, “She
saw a fox.” That made sense; they love fowl and our lakes are
always full of the delicacies foxes naturally crave; plenty f geese
and ducks. It was that little bit of “red” she said she
saw, or maybe it was “orange,” she said. Although it was
too dim for her to get a perfect view, it was sounding more and more
like she was describing a fox.
The
next day, as I sat in our family room talking to a friend on the
phone, telling him what Teresa had experienced, I was looking out our
front window and suddenly the most beautiful red fox came running
down a neighbor’s driveway from across the street. It crossed
our street on a dead run and headed down the sidewalk in front of our
house, headed right toward our lakes. Maybe the sidewalk seemed like
a convenience to him. It was just so funny seeing him use it much
like a human would, as his means of conveyance. I was sure his mind
was set on making the four block trek to the lakes to see what was
available on the lunch menu and this appeared to be the perfect
pathway. Could he be thinking, “Wow, this will take me right
where I want to go.”
Talking
to myself, I said, “I have to tell you, Mr. Fox; you were a
pleasant interruption to my otherwise lazy afternoon. Your beauty is
astounding and I feel a bit of pride that I was right about you. You
would never attack humans and you really want no part of a dog; you
don’t need the annoyance.” So now we could add a red fox
to our growing neighborhood of wild life and of course now add a red
fox in the number of critters for which I felt sorry. Oh sure, I
could see he was adapting; maybe even teaching others how to cope. He
used man made walkways for movement and it was not in the dark of
night, it was early afternoon; he seemed to prefer daylight hours now
and perhaps no longer felt the need to lurk in the darkness. I’m
pretty sure Teresa will be glad for that.
We
later learned that our new neighbors were throwing out corn and bird
seed on their driveway and geese and ducks were landing there to
partake. Our Mr. Fox was merely scoping out the area, determining
where he might hide during a future hunt. “Well Mr. Fox, you
need to know this; it is I, we, who are encroaching more and more on
your home and I sure hope we can be successful co-inhabitants. I
marvel at both your beauty and your stamina and I would love to have
the opportunity to talk with you one late evening, just as Teresa
did, or perhaps a special lazy afternoon like this one. One thing
for sure; I promise I will not tell you to go home. No, no, Mr. Fox;
instead I will beg your forgiveness for moving in right next door to
your banquet table. “
