This morning, as I was dressing for work, I noticed the cat staring intently out the window. I looked out to see what he was looking at, and saw a young red fox in front on my storm- and rain-damaged shed.
I watched him (or her) for a while as he (or she) played around. As soon as I rattled a door knob, though, it darted underneath the shed through a small hole in the latticework.
Cool. Wild foxes living in my backyard. I feel somehow honored that wildlife has chosen my property in which to make their home. I also realize that this is going to make the eventual repairs to the storm- and rain-damage that much more complicated.
Juvenile foxes also mean that larger, adult foxes are (or will soon be) around, and that Eliot the cat is never going to get outside again.