Tuesday, July 28, 2009


One of the things that I've learned by living on -- and paying attention to -- this one little piece of land for a number of years: the crows always crow for a discernible reason. Months can go by and I neither hear nor see a crow. But when a murder of crows shows up and the crows make their insistent caw, there's a reason and I'll be able to discern it.

This morning, when I came out onto the porch with my mug of coffee and my bacon sandwich, the crows were in rare form, flying amazing formations through the sky above my yard and my next-door-neighbor's yard, and cawing up a storm. I waited and watched, but I'd almost decided that the warning was about something to come later today when: There. She. Was.

The fox.

I've seen her, or, given their life span in the "wild," it could have been her grandam, a few times before. And, lately, my neighbors have been seeing her and worrying. She's "wild" after all, and she could "go after a dog or cat, you know." But my relationship with her is different. She doesn't show herself to me very often. But, when she does, she tells me the same thing that G/Son and I tell squirrels and birds and does: I would never hurt you.

The land here roils in odd hills; my yard slopes downwards both from South to North and from East to West. It's part of what made landscaping here a special problem. And the two yards behind me to the South have steep, sudden, odd hills, held back by cracked and crumbling retaining walls, curtains of ivy, and the roots of white crepe myrtle, covered now in blooms. And that's where I saw her, leaping from retaining wall to crepe myrtle steppe to high hill. She paused upon the high hill, displaying herself to me, ignoring the crows as a star ignores paparazzi. She looked at me across the valley of my neighbor's yard, across the plateau I've made of mine, through the screen porch, into my soul. And, then, she disappeared behind the retaining wall, though the ivy, to what I hope is her v secure den. Benediction delivered. Thank you for alerting me, Dear Murder.

All day, all day, all day, I remembered her, her calm repose under pressure, the silent message of her lovely long body displayed from East to West, standing secure upon a broken ledge.

I am blessed. May it be so for you.

Picture found here.


Rhode Island Rules said...

I was blessed with several visits this spring from a vixen with an absolutely beautiful coat and her kits. She sat serenely on a boulder in my yard supervising the kids at play. Unfortunately they fished very well and I lost most of the koi from my pond. Ah, but that is nature. Once the kits moved on my daughter saw her one more time hanging out quietly on our deck with our cat. I am restocking the pond.

crowsfoxes said...

Thank you, dear Hecate, for sharing this. My totem animals are the crow and the fox, hence my name. They both have appeared in my dreams and in physical world. Crow and Fox are shapeshifters, that dance between the worlds. Your post made my day. Blessed be.

Anne Johnson said...

The fox is a stunning animal. It's always a treat to see one. Crows also alert one to eagles, hawks, and owls. I like that about corbies.

mamiel said...

I grew up in suburban N.J. and never saw foxes. I have seen them a few times recently, though, when I hav gone home to visit. My father reports regular sightings a well. I think the population is really rebounding.

Livia Indica said...

Once upon a time years ago at our old house we had a fox family living in our barn. The mother and, I assume, the father would come close to the house and eat cat food. We would sit out at our picnic table and watch the foxes eat not 20 feet from us. It went on that way for weeks and it was amazing and magical. They were so beautiful.