My Encounter With A Red Fox Plamen Vasilev   © Copyright 2025 by Plamen Vasilev

Photo by Mashin Rostislav at Wikimedia Commons.

It was early autumn, a time when the leaves turned from vibrant green to a patchwork of fiery reds and oranges, carpeting the ground in a soft, crunchy layer. I often found solace in these woods, a refuge where I could escape the chaos of daily life and immerse myself in nature’s beauty.

On that particular evening, however, I was about to have an encounter that would stay etched in my memory for years to come.

As I ventured deeper into the thicket, the air grew cooler, and the earthy scent of damp soil mixed with the faint sweetness of decaying leaves.

I paused to admire the last of the setting sun as it painted the sky in shades of pink and purple. In that moment of tranquility, a rustle in the underbrush caught my attention. Instinctively, I turned my head, heart racing with curiosity.

From behind a cluster of ferns, a flash of orange caught my eye. A red fox emerged, its glossy coat shimmering in the fading light. I stood frozen, captivated by its presence. The fox was slender and agile, its long bushy tail trailing behind as it cautiously made its way towards a nearby thicket. Its piercing amber eyes locked onto mine for just a moment, and I felt an unspoken connection with this wild creature.

The fox, sensing my stillness, seemed to relax. It paused, sniffing the air, its ears twitching as if tuning into the symphony of the forest. I could hear the soft crunch of leaves under its paws, and for a brief moment, time stood still. The world around us faded, leaving just the two of us in our own realm. As it moved with grace and elegance, I marveled at its natural beauty, the way its fur glistened like fire against the backdrop of green.

Then, as if it had decided I was harmless, the fox approached cautiously, darting from one patch of brush to another, drawing closer with each silent step. I felt a rush of excitement mixed with awe, knowing I was witnessing a rare moment of wildlife intimacy. The forest, usually filled with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves, became a stage for this solitary fox.

With bated breath, I watched as the fox began to play, pouncing on imaginary prey among the fallen leaves. It was a performance of instinct and joy, a display of the wild that was both mesmerizing and humbling. I could hardly believe my luck; here I was, a mere observer in the life of this magnificent creature, experiencing a connection that few ever get to share.

After what felt like an eternity, the fox finally caught sight of something interesting—a small movement in the grass. With a quick lunge, it pounced, and for a moment, I thought it had caught its dinner. The thrill of the hunt was palpable, yet it was just a stick, which the fox seemed to find amusing. It tossed it into the air, catching it in its mouth with a playful yip.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly, and as if it understood my amusement, the fox paused and turned its head towards me once more. Our eyes met again, and in that instant, I felt a sense of understanding between us. It was as if the fox recognized me as a fellow inhabitant of this wild space, one who appreciated its existence and respected its territory.

However, as quickly as the moment had begun, it ended. A sudden noise—a crack of a twig, perhaps—startled the fox, breaking the spell that had enveloped us. In an instant, it turned on its heels and dashed back into the underbrush, disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared. I stood there, still, heart racing, replaying the encounter in my mind.

Days turned into weeks, but that encounter remained vivid. Each time I returned to the woods, I found myself searching for the red fox, hoping for another glimpse of its beauty.

Sometimes I would catch sight of a flicker of orange in the distance or hear the soft sound of paws padding on the forest floor, but it was never quite the same.

Each encounter in nature holds its own magic, and while I longed for a repeat of that moment, I also understood that such instances are fleeting and precious.

One late afternoon, I decided to take a different path, a trail I hadn’t explored in years. The air was crisp, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, rustling the branches above.

As I walked, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. But as I rounded a bend, I was greeted with an unexpected sight—a small family of red foxes playing in a sun-drenched clearing.

There were three young kits, their coats a patchwork of rust and cream, tumbling over one another.

Days turned into weeks, but that encounter remained vivid. Each time I returned to the woods, I found myself searching for the red fox, hoping for another glimpse of its beauty.

Sometimes I would catch sight of a flicker of orange in the distance or hear the soft sound of paws padding on the forest floor, but it was never quite the same. Each encounter in nature holds its own magic, and while I longed for a repeat of that moment, I also understood that such instances are fleeting and precious.

One late afternoon, I decided to take a different path, a trail I hadn’t explored in years. The air was crisp, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, rustling the branches above.

As I walked, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. But as I rounded a bend, I was greeted with an unexpected sight—a small family of red foxes playing in a sun-drenched clearing.

There were three young kits, their coats a patchwork of rust and cream, tumbling over one another. Their vivacious energy was infectious; they chased each other in circles, nipped playfully at their tails, and rolled in the fallen leaves.

A sense of awe rooted me to the spot. The mother fox was close by, reclining with a watchful eye. Her fiery coat glistened under the dappled sunlight, each hair blazing with a life of its own. She seemed unfazed by my presence, acknowledging me with a brief, knowing glance before returning her attention to her frolicking offspring.

The kits' uninhibited joy in such a simple act as playing was a gentle reminder of the innocence and delights of life. I watched as they discovered the world in their own ways, occasionally pausing to inspect a rustling leaf or a new scent carried by the wind.

Their laughter—a series of high-pitched yips—echoed through the trees, a melody that sang to the unspoiled wilderness surrounding us.

As minutes stretched beyond what seemed possible, I found myself enraptured by the scene, my heart beating in time with the rhythmic dance of nature. Each fox seemed to possess a distinct personality.

One of the kits, slightly larger than the others, had an adventurous streak—bounding away from its siblings only to return in a playful dash. Its antics were observed patiently by the mother, who exuded a serene elegance in every movement.

The clearing felt like a sanctuary. In that moment, it was as if the gurgling creak, the whisper of wind, and the foxes’ frolic were all orchestrated into a perfect symphony.

This family of foxes had unknowingly granted me access to a hidden world, one that continued its ancient rhythm despite our modern chaos.

A solitary bird called in the distance, stealing back some of the serenity I had borrowed from the kits. I realized hours had passed; the day’s warm hues began to give way to the cool grays of evening. Reluctantly, I knew it was time to leave.

As I turned to retrace my steps, the mother fox met my gaze once more—this time with a silent nod between kindred spirits. I left quietly, the weight of their presence etched into my heart.

That encounter, unexpected and unforgotten, added yet another page to my compendium of wild stories. In the days that followed, the family of foxes lingered in my thoughts, their vibrant dance reflecting the essence of nature’s purity and echoes of familial bonds.

Whether I returned to that glen in physical form or through memory alone, the spell of those moments would remain—an enduring testament to the unforeseen magic found within the wilderness.