Sunday morning when I awoke, I peered out into our back acre and saw "our" Momma deer with her precious spotty-skinned twins and another female deer. We've been watching them grow up all season, keeping them well fed with high protein pellets and chicken scratch, and keeping plenty of water in their bucket.
As I watched the babies frolic about in the field, I glimpsed something else moving amongst them. It was keeping a low profile, slipping through the tall grasses and nearby brush. Finally, it showed itself: it was a beautiful fox. Its face was white and its eyes were outlined in thick black lines making them stand out as if it were dolled up for an evening out on the town. Its tail was thick with red and black fur; its body was a smooth blend of brown, beige, and black fur. This fox was an absolute beauty.
The deer weren't too concerned with it; the adults continued to eat and the babies continued to play, yet they all seemed to keep half-an-eye on it. The fox didn't seem interested in the deer at all. It was roaming through the grasses and brush as if looking for something, yet I'm not sure what. That might explain where the chickens went; there was a Momma hen with five chicks out there until about a week ago...
I walked out there to put some protein feed and chicken scratch down for the deer, and added some dry dog food for the fox, though I think the deer ate it all anyway. As I was putting out the feed, several adult deer (two young bucks with small, fuzzy antlers; two pregnant females; and a number of does) emerged from our bamboo forest and stood before me, staring, waiting. A couple of the more brave ones approached and began to eat while I was still pouring feed into small piles about the bare patches of dirt in our field. Once I moved into our nearby shed, the rest approached and all of them ate in silence for several minutes, completely engaged in their munching.
When the deer finished their meal and retreated once again to the cool shade and dense coverage of our bamboo forest, the fox appeared in the open field looking for leftovers. It was as if she'd just teleported herself to that spot; one minute the field was empty, the next minute she was there, sniffing about. I'm not sure she found any chow but I was heartily impressed with her ability to hide herself as she moved. Before I knew it, she was hidden again in the nearby brush...sly as a fox.
I don't know if she'll stick around and I'm not sure I want her to. Our cats might not appreciate that either. In fact, I went looking for the smallest of our two cats after I lost sight of the fox, having seen our bigger cat already that morning. As I scanned our yard for her, it occurred to me that the fox just might have eaten her for supper that night, although she is a fabulous hunter and climber herself, and generally easily eludes any predators.
I was surprised to notice that as much as I love my precious "Tooter" cat, the thought of her becoming fox food did not disturb me as much as it once would have. "Hmmm. That's odd," I thought, "Something like that would have set me into a panic before." As I looked about the yard, I imagined that I might find signs of her carcass there, so I prepared myself for such a discovery; yet I was not upset by the thought. What arose for me instead was, "Well, that's the natural cycle of things. A fox has got to eat!" And I knew that my little Tooter would have given that fox a run for its money, so that if in the end she'd "lost" the chase, she would have done so with vigor, pride, and honor. What an amazing role model for this journey - to live with all the fullness you can muster up to your very last breath...
I'm not sure why this beauty showed up in our yard Sunday, yet I am grateful for it. This fox showed me three things: First, how far I've come on this journey with Lady Death, as the thought of losing what I love no longer distresses me to the degree that it once did;
Second, how comfortable I'm becoming with the natural flow and cycle of things - that infinite rhythm of arising, existing, and falling away again;
And third, how unattached I can hold to the things in my life - even those things that I love with all my heart - unattached, yet fully committed and in deep, intimate relationship with them. That's a good thing, I think. It's something I've been striving for... to live with 100% passion and commitment to the gifts in my life, yet with 0% attachment to any of it. This beautiful fox gave me an opportunity to see how important that is, and how natural it feels, too. My body can feel the fluidity of and freedom from such a rhythm, though at times, part of me still wants to rebel against the letting go. Anymore, I ultimately pull in tremendous gratitude for those things that come and go from my life, for all of them are powerful teachers if I invite them to be.
And so this adventure though A Year To Live continues to roll forward, leaving me with only a few more months to learn and prepare for my very last breath.
Will I be able to live with all the fullness I can muster right up until that last breath releases my body?
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