Amid the honking of geese and the feeder chuckle of hungry mallards, a dozen tundra swans were clustered together on the low ground of the massive grain field. Unlike the ducks and geese, the swans were silent, content to rest, preen and forage in the murky field runoff.
Given a choice, I would have preferred to capture the swans flying in formation against a backdrop of blue sky. Unfortunately the sky was overcast and the swans were already on the ground. Beggars can't be choosers.
Normally I would have been happy to hunker down and watch the ducks and geese. Myriad waterfowl were dropping out of the sky nearly nonstop to feed in 80 acres of recently cut corn. There's something graceful in the method ducks and geese employ on their descent, the symmetry in their cupped wings, tipping slightly one way then the other while zeroing in on a potential feast -- especially when arriving in such large numbers.
On this day it was the swans which had piqued my interest and while I considered the opportunity a sheer bonus, I had no way of knowing the situation would soon take an interesting turn, courtesy of one furry predator.
I had been watching this pair of swooners for several minutes when off in the distance I noticed an orange blur of movement moving rapidly along the ground. It was a red fox, slinking its way through the cut corn, moving in for what appeared to be an easy meal among the hundreds of waterfowl ... all the fox had to do was select a target.
Naturally, I figured one or more of the feathered critters would sound the alarm, thus causing a mass exodus of both ducks and geese. I readied the camera, hoping to get a photo of the southeast horizon as it turned black with hundreds of panicked waterfowl. But things didn't turn out exactly as I expected.
The fox alternately skulked and scurried through the cut corn, paying no mind to the ducks and geese. The geese, in turn, paid no mind to the red fox slipping through their midst. In fact, there wasn't the slightest sense of urgency, no rise in the crescendo of their two-tone honking as is usually the case in times of apparent danger. Instead the geese merely raised their heads to keep an eye on the intruder.
Not as confident as the geese, the ducks took wing and circled the field several times before alighting farther away.
With geese on every side, the fox crept forward. He appeared to be focused solely on the swans. I couldn't help but wonder what caused this obviously healthy and robust-looking red fox to pass up an easy meal. Was it curiosity?
After all, tundra swans do pass through, but they are not something we (or a red fox) see every day. On the other hand, when confronted, a lone goose can and will give a good account of itself, inflicting damage with its wings. And the fox was certainly outnumbered. Maybe he thought the guys in white were easy!
The fox came to a stop at the water's edge. There he simply stared at his intended quarry, sizing them up for several moments. Either he didn't want to get his feet wet or he realized the swans were considerably larger than the geese -- and perhaps more formidable.
Eventually the fox left and judging from its exit, it either winded me or spotted me. It turned tail and fled, darting through the corn the same way it came, putting to flight two or three geese that happened to be in its path. By that time on a dead run, the fox still paid no mind to the honkers, instead high-tailing it toward the distant woodlot from whence it came.
