I saw a fox this morning.
I have never seen a live fox before. He was skinnier than I thought a fox should be, and his tail wasn’t quite as plumey (if that’s not a word, it should be – describing the condition of being plume-like) as I would have expected, but he was definitely a fox. Or she was. Not sure which.
What was odd was where I saw it. To get to the loading zone at Pauline Johnson I have to go along behind the school, between the school’s playing field and a random farmer’s field. I saw Mr Fox crossing the road that leads to Mohawk Park, heading in the direction of the farmer’s field. He wasn’t in a hurry, just ambled along like he had all the time in the world. And in a way, I guess, he did.