If Dixie is by herself, I often won't even know she's here until I go outside for some reason. But Jimmy is a barker so, even though I'd just turned my electric blanket, which had automatically turned off, back on and was snuggling in for a little more sleep, I was unable to ignore them for more than 15 minutes.
Then, Jimmy, who is usually more than happy to be on his way after a quick hand-out, wouldn't leave. He didn't want to stay in the cabin either, but if I closed the door, he'd start barking again. If I'd open the door, he'd sit there on one hind leg, reminiscent of a snail's foot, looking expectant, but wouldn't come back inside. Finally, I told him, in no uncertain terms, to go home and he did.
Dixie, too, couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to be in or out. First she was in but couldn't seem to find a place where she was comfortable, then she was out, then she wanted in the car, then she clambered out over the dirty laundry spilling it all over the ground.
I kept expecting the fox, waiting on tenterhooks for Dixie to start that recognizable barking, to go out and get her back in the cabin so the fox could eat unmolested.
The vixen had eaten last night then returned, making that strange little squeaking noise at the partly opened door, with a male in tow. I guess this was the same fox that had accompanied her here after that one big snow we got in February, but it was too dark that night for me to be sure this was the same fox. At that time I thought the larger of the two was the female. At any rate, Vixen seemed happy and proud to be showing her date this wonderful food source. He was much more skittish than her, keeping my car between himself and me.
I was impressed by how different their features are. He has these wonderfully large, dark Valentino eyes.
Even though she seemed to have made an effort to bring him along, Vixen was very competitive about the food and even started eating from my hand. I had stopped at the grocery store and got one of the $4.99 Cheap Chickens and between the three of us we almost polished it off. I was forced to throw Valentino's chicken to him far from her in order for him to get any and it took him a bit to realize I wasn't throwing the chicken at him.
So, this morning I thought he might come back with her. I think either Vixen or the two of them might have come to be fed while Jimmy was still here, because I heard some barking, but didn't see any sign of foxes when I went out to check.
It wasn't until about 3:30 p.m. that I looked out and saw Vixen solo. I had put out her kibble and gone to the woodshed to get an egg out of the cooler when here came Apollo, the black bulldozer, full speed ahead, around the south side of the cabin, seemingly even more motivated to kill the fox because his owner has put him on a diet and I've not been giving him hand-outs. We'd been blessedly free of him for the most part the last couple of days. Vixen kept ahead of him, leading him through the cabin yards and up the mountain to the north, with me yelling at him and calling him at least one foul name, only realizing I'd done it after it was out and wondering what my neighbors, if they heard me, must think about their quiet, reclusive neighbor's language.
When I came back in, Dixie had thrown up, something she's never done, about a half gallon of water in which I stepped with my bare foot. I don't know what that was all about, and I'm still waiting, kibble and egg in hand, for Vixen to return.
While all this was going on I was: 1) Trying for the second time to get through by phone to the manager of one of my storage units in Phoenix to alert her that I'd lost my debit card a couple of weeks ago and that I'd provided my new number on line after receiving a snail mail letter indicating my payment had been rejected; 2) Making my third call to the Boulder Housing Authority, for which I had completed forms in March for possible senior housing, to try to determine why they had sent me the 17 pages of forms again, asking me complete them once more and attend a second meeting next week--during my first two calls I'd been told in recorded messages that the most recent packet of information had been sent to me by a woman who was now working part time and I should call another employee and then when I called her number I was told she was on vacation for a week; 3) Making a follow-up phone call to an e-mail I'd sent to the ecology center in Nederland yesterday, to which I'd received no response, inquiring whether, with a 29 F degree low being predicted and a high chance of rain/snow, I should perhaps wait to put out my hummingbird feeders. In the last case the young lady I spoke with was very encouraging about going ahead and putting out the feeders indicating, "They're here!" I said I knew they were here, that was why I was calling, but I'd had locals tell me they'd found hummingbirds frozen in place in late fall so was she sure this was sound advice during equally changeable spring weather? Would she please check? 4) Phoning the Denver office of Fish and Game or whatever it's called in Colorado with the same question and getting another young girl on the line who was equally enthusiastic about putting the feeders out, concurring the hummingbirds "might die" in the severe weather, but acting as if that was just the way it sometimes went. Both young women urged me to bring my sticky, dripping hummingbird feeders inside at night to discourage bears! Right. I finally nabbed my neighbor and he suggested that since the only thing blooming at this altitude right now is dandelions, by refraining from putting the feeders out, the birds would probably at least go down to Nederland and that might save their lives if the weather gets really bad over the weekend. I think it was the first sensible thing that happened all day.
I'm getting too accustomed to being retired. I felt as if I were back at work. Teddee
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