Episode 2: Skulkin with the Foxes

Weary to the bone with the woes of the days, out for a midnight snowshoe and renewal.  An encounter with a pair of foxes who are out hunting at Oxbow Bend on the Snake River, unlocks  treasures of the night in the bleak midwinter and renews the magic of wonder for an old heart out in the Tetons.

A midlife crisis, an answer to prayer, inspired by two decades of solo night adventures in the Tetons of Wyoming.  These are the tales of this woman's journey, seeking hope in the darkness and finding a childlike heart renewed in the night...in my wilderness sojourns with God.
So listen, relax and perhaps...find a place of peace to dream.

Transcript

Skulkin with the Foxes

So tired, no money… so weary, lost all hope

Exhausted, too many graveyard shifts worked at the hospital, too many

things still left undone, but I am driving north to Oxbow Bend, as fast as I

can…I need to escape….

So tired, no money… so weary, lost all my hope…

The words spin round & round in my head, so often that my hands slap

their rhythm on the steering wheel. as long as I’m in my old silver bullet

flying down the highway, all my familiar demons have my full attention as

they mumble their complaints of each and every one of my failings… I’ve

listened and sung this song to myself for so many years…that even though

I’m driving beneath the silhouette of the Teton range to the East,

Introspection consumes me, and all I see, like the headlights on the

snowbound highway, is a tunnel of emptiness in front of me…with no end

in sight. Same old same old… the only way to get the weight of my self

condemnation off my soul and the crush of the words out of my head, is to

go out into the vast dark wilderness. Where I’ll be distracted by real wild

things…& my fears and worries and all this self condemnation can just get

lost in the night. So I push on…my only hope far to the North & into the

dead of the night.

When I finally reach the turn off for Oxbow Bend & The soft amber lights

burning faintly above the kiosk of Moran Ranger station. They beckon like

votive candles flickering in a wilderness cathedral and voices in my head

are replaced by silence.

It is midnight as I follow the white ribbon of road woven through the pines,

and I’m looking out instead of in for the first time tonight.

Moonlight drapes the trees in shimmering lace. Evergreen spires pointed to

a sky of polished onyx as I pull into the Oxbow turnout, snuff the headlights

and cut the engine.

It takes a moment for the stillness to settle over me. The car’s movement,

the mechanical noises, constantly rattling during the journey, all grating at

my senses until I stop, and find myself suddenly embraced in the

comfort of silence. Peering out at Oxbow from the confines of the car, I

finally see Mount Moran and the other peaks glowing

with the full moon’s silver light that pulses between granite shadows and

snow.

Anticipation, first glimpse of hope, arrives with the stillness, broken only by

metallic clinks and pings as the cold hammers against the car’s hot engine. I

sit quietly for a moment, There is so much color dancing at the edge of the

moonbeams. The whole night holds a sense of promise.

I sling on my backpack, I pull on all my bulky layers for the negative

temps…stuff gloved hands in bulky down mittens and reach for my poles

leaning up against the car. I shut the car door and then realize my

keys are tucked in a deep pockat in a deeper vest.

Unwrap, dig through, find keys, lock door and I was finally ready to go.

I paused to take a deep breath,

The best part of the adventure had finally come. It always happens when

I’m out alone. this time when I am in the present, looking forward, with my

cares drifting into the past and my curiosity finally awakens.

Time to execute plan A for this night’s sojourn….

I will follow the moonbeams where ever they lead…

I glance north, three stars glitter like a crown over Mt Moran, so I point my

snowshoes north..when suddenly an arrow of darkness streaks through the

moonlight below.

A shadowy wraith comes flying down from the rim of Oxbow Island. It

skims across the frozen river below me and pulls me with it ..away from Mt

Moran and down to the beaver dam at the bend of Snake river. I make my

way to a clump of willows near a ridge above the icy tail of the Snake and

tuck behind some bare willow branches aglow with fairy lights, ice crystals

that burn with color when sparked this deep cold. Then another shadowy

form sprints silent as the first beast as it races over the snow. The night air

dances with color, but not even a breeze stirs as the light plays across it.

And yet in all that silence, I can’t hear the sound of the

paws or the huff of the breath of either phantom as they sail over the river

ice.

An owl hoots from a tree just behind me,

mocking my efforts at any hide and seek in the willows.

Moonlight touches the pair of shadows and melts over them.

They shed light like water. They are both about the same size and they run

with the stealth canines on a hunt, their shifting shadows remain a

mystery. but with the full moon and my binoculars white tipped tails come

into focus and my wraiths transform into a pair of foxes out on a hunt.

They race towards a hole in the snow bank downriver..

like arrows shot with purpose towards their mark.

nary a foundering step, light as feathers…about to descend ferociously

upon their prey..

No lurking or skulking about…

harrowing and flushing out their meal

like …hounds on a fox hunt.

The pair run twenty feet apart along the same set of tracks.

Black booted paws scuff chips of moonlight off the snow behind them.

Tails unfurled and poofed as their dainty legs spin over the ice.

One breaks trail while the other follows. The first one occasionally falters

as it hits softer snow and sinks for a fraction of a moment before springing

to the next crust. The second one races unhindered, tracks already pressed

into place and ready for its paw.

When they reach that first hole, the trail breaker dives

into it and disappears to the tip of its tail. The bit of white waves above the

hole like a pirate’s flag.

I wonder what the sleeping otters and restless beavers burrowed in that

labyrinth of snow tunnels hear and sense when the fox yak, yak at their

doors

In the past, I’ve skied close to those hollows at the edge of the beaver den,

I’ve heard the mingled huffs and chirrups from both beaver and otter, that

echo beneath the ice.

This pouncing, digging low growling and the fox yakking must bounce all

through the tunnels threats coming from everywhere all at once.

Suddenly, the fox in the hole shoots back out, tail first, like a

champagne cork launched from its bottle.

He hasn’t caught anything.

He doesn’t stop to dig, he just races on downriver towards the next opening.

Second fox arrives at the abandoned hole, sniffs about, digs for a bit, races

around it, then dives, and disappears into it as her mate reaches the next

hole.

She gives a few yaks into the burrow.. then out she pops and races

after her partner …as if they are a tag team hunting down the holes of their

trap lines.

One fox ready to pounce, as the other drives the prey

from behind. Occasionally, I hear the high excited yaks echoing through

the gurgle of water as it sloshes out against an ice hole.

But most sound is muted and this hunt, is like a shadow puppet show;

with all the noisy havoc and terror of it imprisoned in the icy depths

below..The pair race further down the river slip and behind a curtain of

white mist that is slowly rising from the warmer waters and disappear from

view.

I tuck binoculars back into my vest, throw on another down jacket, stuff

my hands back into my down mitts.. pull out the thermos for a quick sip of

hot tea and a cookie.

Overhead, the deep throaty hoot of that old owl drifts over me, as another

hunt takes place in the forest tonight.

Time to head home.

Stiff with cold, I move clumsily out of the willows, north along the river

bank, then the curtain of mist melts in the moonlight

Oxbow appears along with one fox he is trotting across the ice heading

directly towards me. Head held high jauntily prancing,

the hunt over for a bit, the night still young…

His silhouette seems to dance in the moonlight until he is just below my

shadow on the ridge

A sharp stop, a tilt of his head, suspicious, waiting for the pause of several

heartbeats. Then with a sudden flick of head and tail, he spins round and

races back to Oxbow Island, jumps up the snowbank and stares over at me,

his stance a teasing dare.

The scene reminds me of those cartoons, where the little scamp calls out in

a foreign accent, “You are lucky that I did not tear you to pieces.

Scram, get away from zees river.”

He turns with a flourish of his tail and melts into the brush.

I scan the river looking for the mate, she is approaching, intent on the holes

in the ice as she follows his tracks..still unaware of my presence

She suddenly stiffens, at his tracks that have spun around

and raced back to Oxbow, her head up as if sniffing…and then she spots me.

She doesn’t spin and race for safety…

She gazes steadily in my direction making sure I have seen her

then she slowly turns a pirouette casually sashays back to the island with

her tail still waving in full fluff behind her.

A few short bounds up to the little ridge and then tosses a look back over

her shoulder in my direction. and gives me the yak yak yak …

laughing in my face.

Off into the brush and back to the hunt for her mate…

and maybe a romantic dinner by moonlight .

The river mist churns and rolls in towards me

It’s cold wet touch pushes me homeward…

Like the fox, I pirouette & step back into my tracks that lead to the night’s

beginning.

The last of the moonlight flickers over the snowy peaks…

I’m tired and content, the fox antics…fill me with a smile.

I’ve seen a fox hunt and had a pair of foxes yak yak at me..

Something I’ve never seen before, maybe never to be seen again, by me..

I feel like the richest woman in the world tonight.

And as for those old demons ..begging for a ride back…

well…I just gave them the cold shoulder and a yak ..yak… yak

and left them down by the river as I headed for home!