Winter. A time to hibernate. Waiting for spring to appear. Diminutive hints, blooms attempting to unravel from shrubbery, show themselves but the weather itself does not always cooperate. Each day remains the same, the hope of changing seasons idles itself. Then, suddenly, a portend of what may become will appear, a moment’s glance at the future even as that future darts past in the present. While there is no real advantage to grasping at whatever that glance shows, the ability to see it at all is so much a fulfillment of the constant yearning for sunlight and warmth that anything leaning toward such an outcome absolutely cannot be ignored.

One such moment happened just a few weeks ago. An expected cold morning, while having an early cigarette and standing outside the kennels, as usual a forgotten few minutes of the day was suddenly shattered by the sound of screaming. What would be making such an outcry? I unlatched the gate and rushed outside. While glancing around for the source of the noise, I had my hand on my gun, always concerned that I might need to immediately take care of a problem. Thankfully, that was not the case at all. I turned the corner around the six foot chain link fence and the situation presented itself. One of the outside cats, usually lounging about in the driveway, was apparently safe, as she was nowhere to be found.

Yet there was one animal in sight – a fox. Here stood the fox, red bushy tail and pointy nose, staring at the concrete steps leading to the front of the house, the fortuitous escape route the cat had just wisely used to her advantage. The wild intruder stared at me as if I were the interloper, the trespasser, the vagabond who showed up for no other reason than to rudely interrupt the fox attempting to dine on the cat (and indeed that interruption was exactly what I was attempting to do). The situation was understandable but multi-faceted. The fox is a predator and our cat could be the prey.  Or, the fox was quite confused and didn’t perhaps see the signs demarcating the property lines as no trespassing zones. The ability to read “No Trespassing” signs likely is not one of the fox’s strengths.

It was well before time to go to work and I found myself staring at the fox, mentally deciding whether this could in any way represent a threat. I could come up with no such reason. Quite strange, the fox and I gazing at each other no more than 15 feet apart before the fox darted away. It was several days later that I realized sometimes what is observed is what is and nothing more – the fox was no threat, the fox was a sign of  the change of seasons as foxes appear around the house early in the spring. The red furry tail was not expected but I realize that concept works in either direction, as neither of us expected the other. The cat is fine. Presumably so is the fox. Regardless of the weather, I hope I see that fox again. I have no plan to shoot it. But, it’s not invited to dine on our cat.