Actively Frozen

Wild encounters in the snow

Last week I left you with this indication that I was not alone out on the snow-filled trails along Goose Creek.

Something WAS here, at least

It’s been quiet for more than a week here. Both visually and audibly. The snow absorbs sound, and there have been fewer sounds made. People are staying inside. No distant mechanical noises, and not a single soul out along the creek with me. The surface is frozen over, shoreline to shoreline for long stretches, and many animals hide when the temperature suddenly drops. I can hear my own footsteps, or nothing.

Herons can’t fish through the ice. At the beginning of the freeze they just stood and looked at each other. Later they would take to the trees and disappear from view.

The ice also blocks ducks, geese, and kingfishers; all have been absent from the freeze zone. Squirrels have put on their jammies, warmed up the fire, and set about snacking on roasted nuts inside their trees and burrows. Or so I’ve imagined.

But for every one of those who’d gone into hiding, there was some little kid playing in the snow.

Digging for rye

Ice hopping

Needing a napkin

I love the transformations that happen from season to season, or sometimes day to day. I’m happy to stand and watch. Even when it’s just an ordinary songbird like the dark-eyed junco, above.

But of course, I’m rarely only watching. I’m usually finding something to photograph, too.

And sometimes I’m searching for a specific something. This time of year is no different. My favorite subject¹ is elusive, though. When I named this weekly letter Glimpses and Visions I could easily have been describing my quest to photograph foxes. Sometimes visions are all I have. Sometimes I find a mere glimpse.

The foxes are always here, somewhere. I know this. I’ve seen individuals and pairs in various moments over the last couple of years. But when the snow falls I get a reminder of just how active they are, every day, all around here.

Fresh fox prints

I know if I keep going out looking, I’ll eventually find one. Typically it’s only a flash of fur to one side, through the woods or along the shore. A red sliver of movement, suddenly visible as it glides along, then as quickly, disappearing. They generally see or hear me before I see them, and they prefer to keep their distance. My best chances, as happened a year ago, often occur when they are already busy and/or far away.

But the quiet of last week helped me, and I was able to watch one of them hunting in close proximity for little while, from between trees and branches. I brought the camera to my face only when its back was turned, so there would be no visible movement from my location. Hoping it wouldn’t get spooked.

Several times this fox nearly looked in my direction, but I did my best impression of a tree trunk. I barely moved my right index finger, enough to press the silent shutter. My camera’s silent setting is a friend.

Generally my view was blocked or partially blocked, but that’s ok. I was happy for being able to watch for as long as I did, and to at least get this:

And then it ended. The fox glanced at my location, noticed I was not dressed like a tree, and swiftly moved along the embankment and beyond my view.

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I had the good fortune of seeing several foxes during my recent excursions. It was interesting to learn from all the tracks just how often they crossed the frozen surface while they could. New trails appeared each day, criss-crossing up and down the creek. My imagination translated this as a tiny version the Bering Land Bridge, the migration route from thousands of years ago connecting northeast Asia to North America. Here now, soon to be gone. Cross if you like, but you may not be able to return.

I have no idea which side contains their permanent homes. It’s possible the ones I’m showing you today are the foxes I photographed about a month ago, but I know that foxes live on my side, too. I’m curious, but I’ll never know.

I’ll leave you with an image of a second fox from further away, the only one I was able to witness in the act of crossing. To my eye, she’s as beautiful as any other animal on earth.²

Next week at this time I’ll be en route to another magical place, and gone through the month of February. I’m not sure how much I’ll write each week, but you’ll hear from me as I go.

Until then,

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This is an Extremely Limited Edition of prints for the series called Seas and Skies. I’ll make just five 16x24” archival, Numbered Prints (and two Artists Prints), each with associated certificate of authentication.

These are going fast and *Closing Curtain is Sold Out*

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1. My favorite furry subject, that is. You’ll recall another love affair as described in Angelic Wings.

2. This one’s a confirmed “she”. I don’t know the sex of the other one. And yes, cat lovers might disagree about what the prettiest animals are. The eye of the beholder, and all that.