Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Body Of A Light Brown Fox



Dog scuffles the lane, looking for the pale fox; the almost strawberry blonde fox; that stopped and stared at us last time we walked here. After assessing the situation fox decided to skittle up through the undergrowth. Dog gets twig-tangled trying to recreate the scene. I call her back and unpick a half metre of hawthorn from her tail. She darts into the quarry in case fox is digging an escape tunnel. She runs round and round, in constant motion like a river, the spaniel embodiment of an eddying river. 
At first I think there is a pile of fluff at the field gate. It is the body of a light brown fox. An intact forepaw reaches out, as though it had one clever line to die with, and needed to still the audience. The rest of it is a city of maggots. I’m fascinated by the commute lines that wriggle the length of an exposed rib; by the patterns of undulations as they swiftly recycle the fox flesh. We walk on; Dog keeps up the scuffling. 

Until stilled at home, wondering where the fox went.


3 comments:

  1. Nice post. I think you have more foxes there than we have here across the pond. To see a fox is rather rare in my part of the world. It sounds like you are getting to know your knew turf--as is dog--and dog enjoys it much--with the exception of that wiley fox that seems to get away :-)

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  2. We have oodles of foxes here, not always a good thing- one has recently nipped off with two of next door's chickens. Dog is entranced by them. Loving my new turf!

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  3. 'the spaniel embodiment of an eddying river.'

    Instantly present, Lils. Gorgeous hit coming out of the gate.

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