You need not wonder why

Silent walking with the foxes

The new kid in town.

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A slight chill has visited Fox-a-Lago, the field near Washington Park where my friend and I watch wildlife, especially the wild red foxes that live in the adjacent shaded woods and sometimes come out to say hello. It’s a sign that the brutal summer has reached its end and a reminder that change is the one constant to which we all must concede.

Crows greet us daily to munch on the peanuts with which we tempt them. We eavesdrop on the conversation between two owls. But we’ve not seen our foxes lately, at least not in person.

About five weeks ago, one of our trailcams revealed that Jesse, one of this year’s new kits, had contracted the mange that sometimes plagues foxes. We began medicating food — raw chicken and eggs — that we’d leave on top of the log he uses as a forest express lane. We were happy when we saw him chowing down.

Jesse takes his medicine.

But a couple of weeks ago, he vanished.

These cameras aren’t extremely reliable. Someone is still eating the food, but we’ve not seen who. So we worry. Mange is deadly if not treated.

In the meantime, a different trailcam has revealed a new fox with a trim summer coat rushing around at night, taking turns with a family of raccoons to scour the field for whatever peanuts the crows have missed.

His bushy tail often sticks straight out behind him, as if to wave at us. It’s just about the prettiest brush we’ve ever seen.

He’s not yet told us his name.

He isn’t as bold or curious as some foxes that have preceded him: Red or Blondie or Sally. We’ve only seen him in person once, peering at us from behind a fallen tree, scampering off once he saw that we saw him.

Foxes eventually grow big enough to seek their own Fox-a-Lago, which largely explains our changing cast. But no fox-worthy territory remains empty for long. As British wildlife researcher Les Stocker notes in his 1994 textbook, “The Complete Fox,” short-sighted farmers sometimes try to clear their land of foxes, but all they accomplish is to open the territory for new residents. Our red-headed friends fill whatever vacuums exist.

They’ll continue to find this allotment to be worth working, with its mice and squirrels and access to running water; its shade trees and dirt soft enough for digging dens.

But even without their daily presence, sitting in this isolated field for an hour or so a day has its benefits.

Earlier this year I wrote about the anxiety that was making my life more complex. (More on that in the “overflow” section.) At first I thought it set me apart, but now I see it as a circumstance that I share with many, maybe even with you. We live in an age of anxiety, one formed by legitimate fears and stresses: young people fearing the school shootings that ruling Republicans refuse to address; working people carrying heavier workloads; rising prices straining our wallets; and, among our rural brethren, a deadly plague of despair, exacerbated by opioid addiction and scarcity of opportunity.

We face climate change and the economic impact that comes from ignoring it for too long; a pandemic that seems on the verge of resurging; political threats to our nation’s democratic traditions; a major political party whose platform seems to consist of nothing more than burn it all down; and madmen like Russian President Vladimir Putin and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un, along with too many fools in the U.S. who somehow justify their murderous actions.

These problems are not going to be solved by shoving trans kids into closets or literally white-washing our nation’s history. They’re not going to be solved by putting more guns on the street. But those are appealing distractions to desperate people. Until society wises up and votes for solutions, we’ll have to cope as best as we can.

So let me tell you:

No matter the level of anxiety I feel during the day — it varies — it has always vanished by the time I leave Fox-a-Lago. My days end with a sense of calm and ease.

Various media outlets have been reporting a new health trend called “silent walking,” which is essentially going for long walks in the woods while leaving conversation and/or ear buds at home. It follows the “forest bathing” trend, the idea that abandoning screens and news sources for slow, quiet walks in the woods can heal what ails us.

Singer James Taylor knew this decades ago and just called it “walkin’ on a country road.”

Fox-a-Lago is my silent walking. My forest bathing. My mindful meditation.

My friend and I sit facing the forest, with sunlight filtering through the leaves to create a tapestry, a mosaic of green and gold, bordered by the blue and puffy white overhead. Traffic noise meshes with crickets and birdsong to form a pleasant ambient soundtrack. Nothing presses; nothing interferes; nothing interrupts.

And every now and then there’s a beautiful fox.

It’s not the sole practice I use to alleviate anxiety; I’m hitting it with pretty much everything I can.

But nature can heal much of what ails us. More reason to preserve it, even if doing so is costly.

My friend and I have been visiting this retreat nearly daily for going on three years. We have no plans to abandon it anytime soon; it gives us too much.

Friends, there’s plenty more where this came from.

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Overflow:

Silent walking explained:

https://www.today.com/health/mind-body/silent-walking-rcna101793

Ditto, forest bathing:

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/forest-bathing-nature-walk-health

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A bit over a month ago, my wise medical professional, a nurse practitioner, ran some blood tests and discovered that I was suffering from a B12 deficiency. This, she felt, was causing the acute muscle soreness I was experiencing as well as quite a bit of the anxiety. Something between 5% and 15% of people over 60 experience this, she told me. It’s not a matter of having enough B12 in one’s diet; it's a matter of the body’s inability to absorb it.

I began a series of B12 injections that have made a world of difference.

If you’re suffering, have your B12 checked. It wouldn’t hurt.

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My thanks to those who came out to the Art Crush Friday night. These third-Friday events are so much fun! They’re also a reminder that our city deserves its nickname.

Incidentally, some volunteers from the local chapter of Red Wine and Blue were there, fighting book censorship. Proud to be in their crowd.

https://www.facebook.com/RedWineBlueUSA/

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Sing it with James:

Thanks again for joining me here; it’s a privilege to be able to speak to you. I appreciate your feedback.