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A lasting memory of a red fox in the rain in Asheville

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In the pure world, there are particular visible pictures that rivet the consideration of human beholders. One such is that of a timber rattlesnake abruptly encountered in the wild. That sight actually galvanizes the senses. The vibrating rattle-tipped tail sounds its uncanny almost-musical warning. And you freeze in mid-step, holding your breath however unaware you’re doing so. The hair on the again of your neck stands on finish. The occasion stays imprinted in your memory financial institution.

Another type of picture—that of a red fox abruptly glimpsed—is one of pure delight. Elizabeth and I’ve encountered a red fox with some frequency by the years. But, an encounter I had in the mid-Nineteen Nineties registered with me in nice element.

I used to be driving alone south of Asheville on the Blue Ridge Parkway. A gentle early morning drizzle was swirling in my truck’s headlights. As if from out of nowhere, a fox abruptly appeared, transferring throughout the roadway with nimble toes in a dainty trot. On the roadside embankment, it paused, lifted a entrance paw, and turned to look at my oncoming car.

For a second the animal’s eyes seemed into mine with out concern. It was merely curious. With heightened consciousness, I may see drops of moisture clinging to the hairs that outlined the creature’s silhouette. It is that picture of a red fox in the rain that is still with me. With a single catlike certain, it disappeared as shortly because it had appeared in a sleek movement of motion.