TTHE LONG AND SHORT OF IT

I was arriving home close to midnight the other night when, as I pulled my car up in front of the house, I notice a moving figure in the driveway. It was long and short and in no hurry and at first all I could out was its silhouette. As I continued looking, it stepped into the light thrown by a nearby streetlamp and revealed itself as a young fox. I fumbled for my camera, still amused by the fact that everyone nowadays carries a phone, and therefore also a camera, and therefore also a calculator, a music player, a library, a tv, a sender and receiver of instant mail and messages, and access to the web, which means access to everything. The little device I carried in my pocket was way smarter than I was. I jumped out of the car and pursued Mr Fox, camera in hand. He did not wait around to pose but instead led me on a merry chase, at first not bothering to hurry but then as my presence grew more imposing, moving with a brisk pace. I soon found myself tromping through deep cakey snow, sliding and crunching over both smooth and crusty ice, struggling to keep my prey in sight. But it was no use and I soon felt very alone, stumbling like a fool over the northwest tip of Nicollet Island. But then I realized that it wasn't very cold out, that it was rather delightful, in fact. So I slowed down and enjoyed a leisurely stroll beneath the stars that shone clearly from on high, while smiling to myself at a song popular in my youth, in the mid-1970's, called 'Fox on the Run.'