In my last post, I established that cows make a great jazz audience. Given their rapt enthusiasm for my saxophone playing, I might even opt for a roomful of them over people, provided they pay at the door, order a few drinks, and tip the waitress. Then again, cows are notorious for hygienic indiscretion, so I guess I”ll go with people after all, at least until the day when Depends for cows hits the market.
So much for cows. On to foxes.
Early one morning on my way to work, driving through the countryside near the airport, I pulled my car onto the shoulder by a broad meadow. With half an hour to kill, I assembled my horn, figuring I”d get in a little sax practice to start the day off right.
As I stood there serenading the sunrise, I noticed a riffling motion in the weeds a hundred feet off to my right. Out of the tall grass emerged a red fox. It edged closer…closer…to within maybe sixty feet from me. Then it sat, its head cocked, watching intently as I played. After a minute, apparently deciding I was safe, the fox moved closer still, then sat again and listened. From the studious look on its face, I figured it was analyzing my licks, absorbing them for possible use in its own playing.
Hard to say how long the little guy sat there–maybe five minutes, maybe even longer. Eventually he got up and, casting a couple backward glances, trotted off.
What a gift! As much as I love the countryside and as much time as I”ve spent in it, I nevertheless have seen foxes only a handful of times. They”re retiring creatures which prefer not to be seen. But like many other animals, they seem to have a fascination for music. That one would allow its curiosity to overcome its natural fear of man in such a way, for what strikes me as a pretty lengthy amount of time, is something I consider remarkable–or at least, very, very cool.
On a fishing trip in Ontario several years ago, I packed in my soprano sax. In the evening, after a full day of fishing, I would sit on the rocky shore of the wilderness island where my buddies and I were camped, playing my horn and listening to the loons call back from across the waters. The antiphony was haunting and beautiful. Those were magical twilights, filled with loon song, the scent of white pine, and the voices and laughter of friends.
What a rich creation God has given us! And what an incredible treasure is music, connecting humans with the wild things of the earth and giving us glimpses of how things were meant to be–and how they once were long, long ago, back in the Garden.
