Sneaky little fox

This morning sitting on my meditation cushion, a fox ran through the back yard and under a hole in one of the bushes. There was no hesitation. It was just like she had done this plenty of times before. I had no idea that she was trotting through that opening under the forsythia bushes.I'd seen birds nesting there in the past.

This fox fascinates me.

The first time I saw her, she batted at the lower beech tree leaves passing by. Trot, trot, elevate, bat, pause, drop down, trot, trot. What was that about?

Then the fox trotted over to the bird feeder. Oh, bird seed for the birds, bird-as-food for the fox.

In the morning, I will occasionally see the fox trot by going west to east, or, east to west through the back yard. Some evenings it will cross in front of the car as I come up the driveway.

But the maddening thing is that the fox never comes by when I am near a camera.

I often take photos of wildlife and birds drawn to the back yard. The camera is often perched on our kitchen window table ready for those opportunities to pick it up and capture an image.

The fox will have none of that. It only comes by, or I only notice it, when the camera has been put away in another room.

This morning the fox came by again as I was talking to my daughter.

"Wait," I whispered. "Let me go get the camera."

I put the phone down, practically crawled under the kitchen window. Stood back up and walked down the hall. Checking through blinds, the fox had moved under the beech tree and was licking its fur.

Great, I thought. I grabbed the camera - still there, but the screen over the window would render the photo useless. I needed to get back to the picture window in the kitchen.

By the time I eased myself back to the window, the fox was gone.

I'm sure there is some moral to the story or a metaphor for my meditation practice, but I can't think of one. It's like my neurons have blocked any significant connection.

I vaguely remember thinking that the fox darting under the bushes during meditation was akin to my sneaky thoughts that flit in and out seeking to flush out the succulent bird or finding temporary cover on my way to going somewhere else with a thought. But I can't hold on to those thoughts, either. Yet, if I am trying to make some meaning out of this, isn't trying to find meaning an attachment?

Peace little fox. Even though I never saw you catch a bird, you sure do look healthy.

Oh, I am sorely tempted to bring my camera to my morning meditation.