Leaving our farmhouse early this morning, I was taken by the shadows on the snow-covered ground, produced by the waning Wolf Moon. Just as I climbed into my pickup, our resident red fox trotted across the property, oblivious of my presence.
Absent for some time, she was clearly out for a pre-dawn hunt. Now that she has returned, our cottontail population will crash once again, a cycle I have witnessed over the past two decades.
I'm rather fond of both species but nature has her hierarchy and, on our farm, the fox is at the top of the food chain (unless, of course, a coyote wanders in). Though she may have a suitor by next month and cubs by spring, she appears content to live in peace for now.