I dunno....maybe he's just, different.

Just your daily fox entry for you to enjoy-

     I get home from work tonight pretty late on Monday night, and I usually spend a half hour just unwinding and talking to my husband about his day.  The conversation usually ends with, "have you seen Ash tonight?" This particular night he hadn't so I grab a bag of cat food to go outside and put some in his dish. Yes cat food. I figured, he has eaten it before since there was nothing else being offered, and since he has been hiding his food (poorly and in plain sight for the past two weeks) I guessed it was worth a shot giving him something that would be more difficult to hide.

     You see I haven't written much about this "new behavior," quite yet until I had something to really validate it with. Tonight seemed to be the validation.  The validation was the continued behavior of hiding his food and not eating a single piece of it- and time.  Its been two solid weeks of us watching him each night gracefully grab his food, look at us with his red eyes, and then run and hide it.  As the the first week grew into the second, the "hiding," of his food became more or less "hand it to me and I'm going to burry it in the pile of leaves next to your feet." At first we laughed. Telling Ash he was getting lazy and pretty uncreative in his hiding spaces. Usually the bird feeder, our pine tree and the chicken coop (yes the chicken coop) are laden with hotdog pieces the following morning. But seeing a hotdog piece the next morning in the corner of your driveway seemed to be his new half assed thing.

Well, as I went out to put food in his dish I gave him his whistle call to let him know supper was ready, and proceeded to go to the chicken coop to collect the girls work (eggs.) This time paying more attention to little pitter patter of feet as to not scare the pee out of myself again if he ran up to the coop.  I did what I had to do at the coop which included putting a tarp over their fenced in yard. (Its going to rain pretty heavy in the morning so I didn't want the girls to be stuck inside all day - The tarp will allow them a little protection from the rain) As I was out there for a while I got used to the dark and shut off the flashlight I was holding since it was just in the way. After finishing I thought to myself I better put the flashlight back on so I don't trip over a fox on the way back to the house. Good thing I did cause sitting in the middle of the yard was that pretty little red coat.  He started to follow me back to the house- gleefully running in front of me and behind, and stopping for a quick minute to - take a pee. "Hmm." Once again a new behavior I have yet to see from him. He is a rather- polite- fox but I figured I'd let that one slide as I have more of a sympathy lately to having to pee at all inconvenient times. 

He waited while I minced his chicken and put it in the dish. But before walking over to it- he rubbed up against a tall log we have sitting near the steps, and then did what just made me laugh out loud. Or "lol," for all you hepcats out there.

He put his front paws on the log- sniffed- then jumped up on it. He got a good look into out house, the dogs watching him, and his dish before jumping down. He walked to his dish- grabbed the tiniest piece- dropped it back in- and then ran to watch the dogs. Sat in the yard, and groomed himself rather, intently.

I came back inside laughing and telling my husband of the "new thing Ash did." And then quickly ran back outside to see what he was now up to.

I saw him out by the chicken coop just a little into the woods. He was rubbing up against a tree stump and watching me. While I sat there watching him back he climbed onto the stump, used it as a scratch post, and then laid down to groom himself more.

Here's the coolest part. While I sat (at the chicken coop- oh the irony) watching this friendly fox, I heard in the distance the unmistakeable mating call- of another fox.

(On my days off I study these mammals- mating calls just happens to be a part of that. But hey, when your a geek, geeky things interest you. What? I'll own it.)

We've had a hunch that this "behavior," of storing food, and coming in to check on us, had something to do with "coming into season," for our foxy friend.  This does happen for them at the onset of winter, with kits being born anywhere between February and May.  But after tonight and seeing the "almost catinheatlike personality," come out of him we now question more, if the he is really a her:)

Loving being a fan and following Ash's tweets.

Well! You made me shake a lil in my muckboots!

About a half an hour ago I went out to collect the rest of the chickens eggs, while their coop lights were still on.
Knowing that our little red coat comes running when he hears us in the yard I kept my ears open for his little fox-trot. (pun intended)
While I had the coop open and talking to my lady friends about what a great job at work they did today, I heard my buddy come running out of the woods.

I have never drop the coop door closed so fast before in my life.

I don't know what I was expecting- maybe Ash would suddenly become the Chupacabra and violently jump into the coop door and reek havoc on the 41. Maybe he would pull out nunchucks speak to me in the language of ninja's and fight me for the hens? Maybe he was just wondering if I was cooking up eggs again for him tonight.

Either way- he trotted back with me to the house (while I was still shaking) and ran in front of me about three feet as if I was another one of his fox buddies going out together to the Golden Coral.
He waited as I went inside and got him some leftover -ahem- chicken (store bought) and cut it up for him. While he waited he groomed himself and pulled ticks off his shoulder. Somehow it was the cutest tick pulling experience I've had yet. He grabbed two pieces and hid them (poorly) in the middle of the yard and came back to the steps and just looked at me.  There is something about looking into a wild animals eyes that is like no other. Its not that of a dogs- where you know that a loyalty and sweetness reside behind them. And its not that of a cats, where the look they give you says "scratch under my chin please." No its different. When those red eyes look directly into your eyes- not to the side- not at your nose- but at your eyes straight on, you have to look away.  His eyes are as red as his coat. I know I have said it before- but really red. I would pay money to understand his thoughts.

So, uninterested in his chicken (phew) he became interested when I took the trash out. Following me while I filled the bucket and rolled it out the driveway. He followed me back and gave me another minute lookover, grew bored, and left.



He always leaves me grinning.

A Hefty Bakers Dozen

After cleaning six and a half dozen eggs- I only dropped four. (Eggs that is not dozen.) Which is pretty nobel for a clutz like me, considering just this morning I dropped a beer glass from the cabinet on my head, and got a nice egg growing out of it. Oh, the irony.

The gals have stepped up their game in the last couple of weeks. 

For awhile it was getting a little frustrating, having 41 chickens and getting four eggs a day.  Our Amish friends who gave us the hens said they should be ready to lay within a couple weeks- but that was back in August. And in a impatient society all of my own I figured these hens would be as punctual as our little fox.  A couple weeks pass by in August and still no 41 eggs a day. The question marks grew a many around my nogan as each day passed with only four eggs to gather. I have since learned that you cannot rush a lady into laying an egg until she is darn well ready. And a "couple weeks," in the sweet society of the Amish who are sans alarm clocks might actually mean four months. After some researching on this vast innerwebthingy I found that some ways you can tell a hen is ready to lay is by the color of their cheeks, the size of their combs (the little red hat ontop of their head) and the feathers on their butt.  I have spent many a nice fall days comparing my hens butts to one another as they run around the yard. The softer the feathers are on the butt- the less likely they are to lay. The paler the cheeks (on their face this time) the less likely they are to lay. No comb? No eggs. We installed some lights for the ladies as well in their coop. The lights come on at 6 a.m. shut off at 9 a.m. and come back on around 4 p.m. then shut off at 7 p.m. The extra light helps to keep them emotionally well. Being happy hens they are more likely to want to pop eggs out. Chickens are weather friendly animals. Winter time they slow down on their egg laying. Summertime they step up their game. Some of our gals happened to begin their molt phase of life as well too. When the chickens molt (lose their tail, wing and top of their head feathers) they don't lay. Who would want to anyways? If your not feeling yourself, having a bad hair day and are bloated, do you really want to get gussied up and go clubbing? Prob not. Either way- the hens the Amish gave us are beautifully healthy with their feathers all a shine and their red combs growing so large that they flop into their faces. They squawk eagerly when they see me come across the lawn in the morning, and all jump into harmony.  It is a pretty cool sight to see all these hens pop out of the coop just to say good morning......and to get their scratch and feed.

as for the four cracked eggs-- they will be cooked up and fed to our foxy friend. Nothing gets wasted on our farm:)