So, instead of a motorcycle adventure story, I'll show you a photo of a fox:
One night, about a year ago, we heard what we thought were the screams of a woman being stabbed to death out in the woods beside our house. I'll be honest and tell you that those blood-curdling screams could have made a grown man pee in his pants -- not that I did, of course.
Come to find out, it was a fox, and the screams probably had something to do with kinky fox mating rituals, which we'll not talk about here because this is a Rated PG site.
Anyways, that's when we knew we had foxes.
Yesterday, as I was waiting to see how the weather was going to be for the Saddle Sore 1,000, I saw the fox heading down our driveway, away from the house. I'd seen him the day before, wanted to take a photo of him, but he was gone before I could grab my camera.
A few hours later when my wife left for work, she hollered at me that the fox had just jumped into the woods right in front of her. So, like a good photographer, I grabbed my camera and waited on the front porch with hopes that the fox would return.
I count myself as a photojournalist. That's what I did in the military for five years. And every good photojournalist follows one truth -- do whatever it takes to get the photograph.
So I waited. Waited and kept as still and quiet as I could.
I didn't have to wait long.
These two guys never even saw me.
As I was sitting there, snapping photographs, I kept thinking what a wonderful gift it was to be able to even see theses guys. It doesn't happen every day, even in the country. I also kept thinking about how some people would have grabbed their rifles instead of their cameras and engaged in a bit of target practice on these two pups.
I'm just glad I was able to shoot these guys the way I did -- before someone shot them the other way.
And that's my Fantastic Mr. Fox story. It isn't as good as Roald Dahl's story, but I've got better pictures!
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