Conversations with a fox

Milkweed pods sail over the bay as three mute swans descend onto the stillness. The shine on the lake captures a dozen more of the birds at rest; merganser ducks fly above; Indian Island drifts in the hush of Indian summer.

I lean against the steel railing anchored into the concrete piers that extend out into the Bay of Quinte; my image adrift in the water below. Twelve O’clock Point; the Quinte entrance to the Murray Canal is silent and removed.

Swans hold a prominent place in mythology and folklore, maybe because of their size and plumage. Engravings and designs originating in the Stone Age show the swan and other long–necked birds in symbols that include the sun disk. It suggests that these birds were linked with solar mythology from early on. Today, people living in Northern Asia erect poles holding effigies of flying swans, under which they place wooden models of fish, symbolizing the powers of sky, earth and water. I can feel all of it from where I stand.

Symbolism associated with the natural world holds fascination for me. I try to pay attention to creatures big and small that come my way. It deepens my appreciation when I begin to understand the messages animals, birds and insects can offer. And so it is on this Wednesday early day, as I walk the former tow path along the banks of the canal that I venture upon a fox.

Well, Fox is taking in the sun and appears to be nicely set up on a heavy nest of leaves. A shiny red coat and a big-hair tail light up like a campfire on a moonless night. The thing that is unusual here is that Fox doesn’t run. It’s comfortable where it is and it seems like I’m not a bother either. So I stand three bed-lengths away and wonder: “Are you alright?” I ask. Well, Fox is untroubled; licks a front paw; has sort of a curiosity in its eye. So I figure if Fox is not in a hurry, neither am I. I’ll take the opportunity to stay awhile and…well. Yep! You know the way we do it, sense the soul of another being and want to…well…know more. Talk to the animals, right? Not the first time I admit.

Fox has many opposite interpretations, a paradoxical critter that has taken the rap for a number of things. Think of the stories. Fox in the hen house and all of that. Considered a nuisance by many farmers, in fact Fox helps out. They mostly hunt alone on a diet that includes a variety of bugs, mice and other rodents. And when it comes to religion, well, Fox has the whole gambit covered. Fox will tell you it has the honour of meaning something to everyone. Considered a negative symbol in Christianity, representing cunning, stealth, cleverness, and deceit, Fox was the image of the Devil himself in early mythologies. Yet in older indigenous beliefs Fox was a positive symbol. In an interesting way, it is all of the above that has allowed Fox to survive. Little Fox escapes notice of more powerful predators. In fact, in hunting Fox, man enlists the creature’s cousin, Dog, to help decipher Fox’s talent for invisibility.

So I study Fox: may as well take a few pictures while I’m at it. Fox pokes its ears up like pyramids in the desert. I admire its tail. Considered to be one of the most sacred parts of the animal, there are also practical sides to it: like using it to balance oneself when you’re up on your hind legs peering over tall grass; or when the snow flies it becomes a traveling blanket you can throw over your nose or cover your feet with. And if Fox feels small on certain days, why, its over-sized tail can still give the impression of big.

Red Fox is associated with the freeing of the life force. Fox’s use of smarts suggests that we consider using our own smarts in different, creative ways; try a new slant on the everyday, being mindful of some of our habits. In Fox’s case, habits can cost a life. Another message is to utilize all of our resources (seen and unseen) toward our goals. Fox is an example of how to stay unnoticed, how both a fox and a person can learn much by just standing in the shadows, observing and listening. Invisibility is a powerful medicine to cultivate, Fox says.

And so, after a few lessons it’s time for us to part. I bid Fox adieu. Considering its want to be private and inconspicuous, I feel privileged by our rendezvous and I say so. Fox carries on with her/his (I never did ask) nap and for me, well, the trail home feels lighter having met a newfound friend. And so please remember, if you’re ever by that way, you know, up the path ‘by the top of the clock’, be sure to tell Fox I said hello.