Thinking that it might be an intruder, I peered through the kitchen window, but saw nothing. Of a sudden, a strong gust of wind swept by, rattling the roof of the old farm house. The tall juniper trees in the yard, bent forward, almost to the point of breaking, and then upwright again, That was when the lights went out and everything went black.

The winds calmed down, then, came back in much stronger gust, moaning in the trees, like water cascading from a water fall, like a mounting crescendo of waves crashing against a sandy shore. By now, the chickens were screeching with such urgency that I decided to investigate. Grabbing my flashlight, I opened the door with much care, and stepped out into the darkness. The wind had died down completely.

A twig snapped in the undergrowth to my left and I stopped in my tracks. Carefully I moved foward. Suddenly, a patch of hibiscus plants rose up in front of me; I crouched behind them. A slight movement near the chicken coop caught my attention. I pointed  my flash light in the direction, flicked the switch, and watched its beam pierce through the darkness, capturing an unusual sight..a bushy tailed fox.

We  stood there looking at each other for a while. Slyly, it  lowered its head, smelled the ground. as if it didn't care whether I was there or not. Then, its head came up, ears pricked. hair bristled, as if it would attack. I stood still, my heart pounding, my mouth dry as thoughts of being attacked by a rabied fox, flushed my mind. Without warning it stepped off to the left side of the chicken coop, stopped, and then looked at me. It walked off again, cautious but unafraid. That was the last time I saw my accidental visitor.

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