By Peter Anderson
The black fox, which is really a red fox, came by again this morning. Members of the red fox species – a misnomer as it turns out–may be gray, silver, sometimes tinted blue, and, most dramatically, moonless midnight sky black. I know the black fox is a red fox because it has a white tip on the end of its tail.
I also know why the black fox is here and why it keeps coming back. This fox smells duck. On previous visits, it may have spied its prey, potentially a very succulent prey at that. Our ducks were a gift from my wife’s brother, a rancher in the Animas River Valley, who worried, quite frankly, if they would survive our ignorance of fowl behavior. But they managed well here, setting up house in the relative safety of our growdome greenhouse, while Uncle Johnny’s ducks north of Durango met with misfortune via several red-tailed hawks.
