The fox screams. Cries out its shrieking warning, come hither call. An eerie sound, breaking the drone of cicadas and crickets, the occasional coyote yelp. Here I am, she says. I have been hearing a fox nightly the past few months. I know there are babies in the den down the road. She seems to be coming over the ridge the past few nights behind our house, crossing thru our garden plot, over the road and down to the next ridge. Id like to see her, gaze upon her as she observes me. I think we could have something in common. I dont know if shes feral. I assume she is who has stolen the duck eggs out of the backyard though. I dont know if i want her inside the fence, might not be good to fence her in, in case she got disorientated, and couldnt get back out the way she came in. Need to fix where shes been getting in if i can figure it out. I thought at first we had a mountain lion roaming the woods after hearing her yell. I was a little, well, a lot nervous while walking after dark. But now i feel a kindred for her. I spoke to the neighbor about keeping my ducks, as they have a large pond. She mentioned her husband had missed the fox several times, hes trying to shoot her when she crosses his pasture. Shes on her way to her babies, they are but less than 50 yards from there. I hope he misses everydamn time. I see her eyes in my mind. Shes just being herself, doing what she must, what is natural. This is more her land than ours. I remember red foxes once living in that same den when i was a child. Funny commentary coming from a foxhunters daughter, its a family tradition. But i feel her need to survive when i hear her cry. That need to move, to run, to find what she needs.