wotiwrote

It was surprisingly mild this morning. I had expected a chill in the air as I took to the road but there were cooler mornings during summer, I'm sure. As if to underscore this fact the two foxes I met on the Common were lying down, as though basking in the rays of a warm afternoon. Alerted by the industrial revolution impersonations of my approach they rose to their feet insultingly slowly and then moved off.

It looked like an adult and youngster and it was interesting to see their different responses to my arrival. The adult moved away at right angles, heading for a small copse. "You stay here, I'll go for the copse," she probably said to her young one. The youngster headed off directly in front of me, as though acting as a pace man. After a few minutes of nervous glances behind and noting my resolute and continued approach, he veered off into a garden.

Maybe they do that instinctively, one trying to lead danger away from the other. If I'd been a pack of hounds, perhaps, I would have followed the larger of the pair into the trees.

It was a first run for a couple of weeks because I've been suffering with a sore achilles (as Homer might say). Feet, legs, and lungs all held up remarkably well. So much so that I plan another run this time next year.