Let’s not save the best till last. Let’s shove the fox to the top and celebrate weeks and countless hours of waiting and trekking and hoping to catch a sight of this beautiful animal.
It was a Saturday morning, coming up 10am, and Britain was still in the icy clutch of The Beast. My cold was still very much a sap on my energy but not on my resolve.
This was one of those moments that make it all worth while. Patience, perseverance, and a sprinkle of luck. As I trudged down towards where I had spotted it in January (January Post) I saw what I thought was a dog, 40ft or 50ft away. (My eyesight isn’t great!) I had my 55-300mm on and my camera in hand, and when I lifted the viewfinder to my eyes, I thought, “OH MY GOD, IT’S THE FOX!”
It spotted me as I fired off a few shots and for a smidgeon of time, I was face to face with The Fox.
It was a magical moment and one that will always remain special.
Once the fox had scarpered, I made my way along the line of trees and bushes where it had disappeared and attempted to penetrate the undergrowth. It was unforgiving, but I managed to make my way beyond the initial barrier and discovered several holes in the ground within a small clearing.
The pawprints were very fresh. Had I stumbled upon a fox hole? I planned on re-visiting the spot later in the year, and I did, with no results. In fact, come spring I discovered a fox corpse within 5 minutes of this spot 😦 One must assume it was the same, for I haven’t seen another fox in this location since The Beast.
I mostly used my old Manfrotto monopod for some extra stability for walking in the snow, since I didn’t have any heavy lenses that required it. A robin paid me a visit and appeared jovial whilst also being happy to pose for me.
Closer to home, as I made my way back to warmth and civilization, I spied more robins along the treeline of the farmer’s fields and they too were eager to participate in a quick photo shoot.
Farewell snow, my fox and my little red-breasted models.