Fergie

No, not that Fergie. In fact, we’re not even sure if our Fergie is a male or female. I came up with the name of Fergie for alliteration purposes. Fergie the Fox seems right, whether it’s just Fergie for a female or short for Ferguson for a male! I’m beginning to think, because of size, this incredible specimen is a male.

Every now and then, this wondrous creature crosses at the front of the yard, just along the tree line and I always stop whatever I am doing to watch. Until Fergie started showing up in the yard, my experience had been limited to seeing Nat Geo television renditions of frisky Arctic foxes scampering in the snow. I had no concept of how large a red fox can grow. I also didn’t have a concept of how stealthily they can move. I’ve found myself fascinated by the slow, smooth movements as he/she makes their way from the driveway down to the northwest corner of the yard.

Sometimes, Fergie will stop about two-thirds of the way across the yard, look up at us sitting on the front porch, and then continue. Occasionally, however, we are treated to the magnificent sight of much more than a quick turn of the head. Fergie will, with slow, languid movements, settle into a very regal sitting position, holding the head up high, and barely waving the tail. It’s almost as he is sitting for a formal portrait – letting us enjoy him in all his/her resplendent glory. When the sunlight bounces off of fur that is the color of burnished copper, it almost looks as if he carries his own aura. Truly a wondrous and much-appreciated sight on the ridge.