Friday, August 10, 2018

Come at me bro

I live near a lot of woodland creatures.

On the nights when I walk the dog, I generally see deer, fox and rabbits. All of these creatures excite the dog. I should, perhaps, write incite the dog.  For several nights in a row, said dog has either tried to add resistance training to my walk or just doesn't care if he pulls my arm out of its socket.

So far, I still have an arm, actually two. I am sore, but not broken.

The interesting part of the encounters is how the parent woodland creatures behave with the dog.

At first, I noticed one deer stationed in full view. Standing stock still and eyeballing both me and the dog, the deer seemed to say, "Chase me!" but not is a playful way.  It took me a few minutes to really be present enough in my surroundings to see that she was trying to pull all of our attention her way.  On the other side of the street were the juvenile deer and fawns, probably with a mother standing guard.

Once we were safely past, with me holding the dog back and the mom finally running off in the opposite direction of the deer family, the rest of the family leaped across the street.

The other night, I had a similar encounter with the fox. I have always called the fox, Mr. Fox or Fox in Socks. [Yes, I speak to the creatures when I see them. No, they do not speak back, at least not in words.]

The dog had been trying to pull me all over the place that night. When we were approaching the corner to cross the street, the fox streaked by. Usually, the fox would dip into the trees, but this time, it (he/she?) stopped. Staring down the dog, who standing at attention but not pulling at me, with an expression that really read, "Come at me, BRO!"

It wasn't until the fox dropped its gaze and slipped into the trees that the dog remembered he wanted to chase a fox.

I wasn't sure what to make of the encounter except maybe the fox was tired of being chased.

The very next night, in the same spot, we saw TWO small foxes run across the road. Neither of these two stopped to stare us down. I decided that they were babies, or juveniles. And so not Mr. Fox but Mrs. Fox who had dared us to chase her.

Guessing that like her deer counterparts, she was standing her ground to give her babies a chance to get home safely.

Motherhood... apparently not easy for any species.

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