I baby-sit chickens, OK, I chicken-sit, no, I chicken-care.
Guess there are no precise terms for the vigilant feeding of fowl. So, here I
was last night, all hens in the coop-condo and time enough to check the
self-feeder and water-warmer. I placed a rock across the critter lane under the
wall to block passage to the nightly convenience store that was kitty-corner to
the roosting perch, just within reach of leaping rodents and flying squirrels.
Doors and gates duly locked, I scanned the horizon, no
traffic in town this frosty night. Then I saw a red fox coming up from the
creek three blocks down. Tail held straight behind his long body, the
magnificent animal did not break stride as he walked up the street. His pelt would
have been a trapper’s prize. His image could have graced nature magazines. I
was busy making memories to soothe the savage within.
Then he spotted me, nose to breeze, eye alert to human, he
listened for far away vehicles. Resuming his rhythm, with thin legs limber
under floating shape, he peered both ways before crossing the highway. His white
cheeks disappeared into long black stripes along his imperturbable snout. The
bright tip flashed behind his fluffy dark tail. I remained transfixed for the
privilege of meeting this handsome specimen of local fauna.
After starring into the anonymous darkness of the woods, I
remembered the solitary night calls of a yipping fox chasing lawn rabbits. A smile crept
along my lips under the woolen scarf. I crossed the ‘fox’ highway, looking both
ways, of course. Reached into my pocket and found a viscous mess. three casualties of haste must have
been smashed while attending to chores. Sticky yolks, snotty whites and
sharp eggshells met bare fingers. This would surely enrich the composter.
I felt content enough to let the sight of a free animal guide me between the day and the omelet in my pocket.
I felt content enough to let the sight of a free animal guide me between the day and the omelet in my pocket.