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By GERALD S. HAWKINS
Rappahannock News Contributing Writer
When we bought the farm, my wife, Julia, and I did not know there were foxes living on our property.
Actually, it was really the other way round. The foxes were there long before we came, and, since we intend to keep th^fjelds and woods as close to nature as possible, the foxes will probably be there long after we.
From the foxes’ point of view, it was we who were on their property.
I first spotted one of the foxes in April, when the grass was turning green, and the animal ran along the edge of the stream like a giant Irish red setter dog. In fact, that’s what I thought it was, and I was just about to send it off when Julia stopped me, and we watched its behavior. It wasn’t running or walking. Like the name of the modern dance, it was \ “fox trotting.” The front paws were ''held high like a pedigree trotting horse, and the tail was held straight up, bushy and red against the newgreen grass.
The more we looked, the more we realized (hat it hadn’t seen us and was going about its usual routine of looking for food. Every few steps, it would freeze and then make a high pounce, presumably on a frog or small mouse. Not every pounce was successful; he or she did not seem to connect with those snapping jaws more than once or twice in the whole run along the stream and back again.
It was on the return journey that I got the camera out. After six or so clicks of the shutter, the fox heard me, stood looking for an instant, and then ran in a wriggling fashion up into the woods. I know it is not correct to attribute human reactions to the animal world — biologists tell us
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