We saw the fox behind the house this morning and for the first time he posed for his picture.

We had searched for nine months for the house we live in and I had little heart left for the enterprise. After eight months, even Carol began losing hope we’d ever find what we were looking for. It had to have a view but it had to be close in. Just one more month, she said.

We walked into this house — in Maryland just six blocks over the District of Columbia line — and looked out the huge living room windows. At that time the woods were a solid wall of green summer leaves. It took just 10 minutes to decide.

In 1981, when we bought the house, the woods stretched 3-4 blocks, all the way to Wisconsin Avenue. Since then three large luxury condominium buildings have been built on the so-called Bergdoll Tract, the 67 acres that once fronted on Wisconsin. But the creek and its small canyon still separate us from the big buildings and these acres are parkland, never to be developed. When the trees go into full summer leaf, 1-2 weeks from now, we won’t see the condo buildings again until November.

We first spotted the fox maybe a year or two after we moved in. He was on the far side of the creek, so distant we weren’t sure we actually were looking at a fox. Since then he’s showed himself about a half-dozen times. The most recent time, we were both standing in the family room downstairs. Two streaks of fur shot past. It was the fox chasing a rabbit — right on our deck, 10-15 feet from where we were standing. The show lasted a split second but we both saw it.

This time, though, the fox remained still for 5 or 10 minutes. When Carol first spotted him, he was in repose, probably still asleep, curled up like a bushy red dog. It was just past 8 a.m. There’d been a little rain during the night but now the sun was burning it off, leaving a faint mist rising off the forest floor where he was laying.

I shot pictures through the windows. Then I opened the door to the upstairs deck, as quietly as I could, and went out to shoot more pictures without the glass in the way. The fox opened his eyes, startled, then glanced around casually. He didn’t look directly at me but I am quite sure he knew I was there.

Yet he stayed there, turning his head occasionally, alert, for at least 5 minutes while I photographed him. Then he got up and trotted off leisurely. Yes, foxes trot.

I say “fox” but obviously there must be more than one fox in our woods. There also are great big turtles, once-in-a-while hummingbirds and a plethora of spiders, including the occasional wolf spider. Wolf spiders make great pets. They are enormous, for one thing, and their behavior is fascinating. Sam kept one in a jar for months when he was a kid. We called him Wolfie. There aren’t as many bunny rabbits as there used to be. I think we have the fox to thank for that.

There are whitetail deer too. When I first moved to the Washington area from Chicago in 1969, it was a thrill to spot the rare whitetail in Rock Creek Park, in the city. The moment they sensed you, they fled. Now the deer have utterly lost their fear of people. I am not a biologist nor an animal behaviorist, but I find this remarkable and scary too. It’s obviously learned behavior. It obviously overrides these animals’ instincts. It now characterizes every deer, at least those that live in this urban area. And it occurred over a time period of just 20 years. This goes against everything I thought I knew about wild animals.

I am happy to have communed with the fox today. Thanks, Mister Fox, for gladdening my morning. But please don’t do it again. If you become as bold as the deer, I will be troubled indeed.

Frank Joseph
www.tolovemercy.com

P.S. The Summer of 1787 is David O. Stewart’s new book that brings to vivid life the creation of the Constitution. David is one of the stalwarts of the Holey Roaders writers group, of which I am also privileged to be a member. We read Summer in draft a year or two ago and now it’s published. Last night Simon & Schuster hosted a book party in the lovely Georgetown home of David’s friends Michael Nussbaum and Gloria Weissberg, where I had a grand time and drank way too much white wine. This is all by way of urging you to buy David’s fine, eminently readable new book, the ISBN number of which is 0-7432-8692-8.

P.P.S. Happy Pesach! Happy Easter! Happy Russian Easter!