Fleet of Fox

A photo of a fox farting behind a tree on a woodland path.

It seemed purposeful. Looking straight ahead the fox strode onto the path from the left as though to cross. I stopped. It stopped. Not seen, but sensed. It first looked to its left, down the path ahead of me. Then, quickly twisting its head in my direction. That moment then when we connect, man and beast, a frisson of eye contact as we weigh each other up. Then it turned swiftly and trotted off down the path, sleek and trim. I waited. When I followed, it was nowhere to be seen.

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