Silent as thought he came and went. I glimpse him only a few times a year. But this morning the world was all cloudy white with an inch of fresh snow, and his warm-red fur stood out. I was snapping snow photos and got the barest glance at him: the fox.
After a single breath he vanished into the woods. I studied his footprints. Note the Greek cross in the middle. That's how you'll know a fox's tracks. Lucky you if you ever see a fox. They're so quiet, intent on business. Look for a den within a hundred feet or so of a creek. You'll know it for sure by the mess out front of scattered bones and fur and feathers.