The fox visited us this morning. We hadn’t seen it in a few months. It trotted into the yard, crossing the side flower beds coming toward the house, apparently having seen a squirrel. The quarry (which I did not see) was hiding somewhere, and the fox turned and began moving off. Then, suddenly, it heard something and turned again, running toward the back corner of the house. Sure enough, a squirrel raced from under the bushes there toward the tree and scampered up the trunk. The fox stopped, looked up, and trotted off again, looking for breakfast in another yard. 

The animal had a lovely reddish coat and a bushy tail nearly as long as its body. It was lithe and limber. The reddish fur on its back and legs burned black towards its feet. It is an elegant animal, and it moves gracefully. 

It struck me that the fox moved in exactly the same way as do hunting dogs on a nature documentary, just as house cats prowling move in the same way as lions and tigers. 

In the spirit of An Exaltation of Larks, I thought about each species’ unique ways of moving:  

Foxes don’t only trot (hmmm, could be a dance ... ), they also prance and glide. Whatever they do, they’re always light on their feet. 

Squirrels bounce and race and scamper and leap. They also chatter and gnaw. 

Groundhogs usually lumber . . . or is it ooze? There’s a fair amount of body fat they heave along the ground. When startled, though, they speed in a beeline for cover. 

Deer amble and lope. They also change directions a lot. Their long, thin legs with bony joints make them look with a very tall, thin pitcher (think Randy Johnson), gangly and somewhat awkward looking but with underlying power and grace. 

Cats stalk and prowl. 

Hawks soar and wheel and dive. 

Chickadees flit and dart. 

Robins, on the ground in rows, patrol, like the skirmishers sent in advance of the main body of troops. 

Starlings, on the ground, waddle. 

Blue jays flash through the sky.

Geese, on the other hand, labor. 

Turkeys bob along the ground and rarely reach the sky. When they do, it isn’t far, and they simply puff. Then the air goes out, and they return to earth. 

Herons and egrets, hunting, slowly coil and then quickly unwind. You almost expect to hear the “sproing” of a cartoon spring being released. 

Bunnies don’t just hop. They also wiggle and stretch. And they eat dandelion stalks just as Lady and the Tramp munch pasta. But without the romantic music.  

How do the animals that you see move?  

Words © 2009 AtHome Pilgrim.

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