Do you like close up footage of tiny, fuzzy, adorable endangered species in the wild? Then this is the video for you.
No larger than a kitten, these two curious San Miguel Island fox pups gambled into camp during a recent camping trip out to the rugged and remote San Miguel Island. Growing up far from the influence of people, these baby foxes don’t know that humans are supposed to be scary….Until their mother shows up and teaches them a lesson.
Move over, WildDog…. a new pup’s coming to town!
So, here’s my take on what it’s like to stand in the middle of a massive corn field.
I’ve had a couple of “wilderness experiences” this month — times of protracted solitude away from phones, emails, computers, and the demands of daily details. Thank goodness. One of those experiences was on a farm in Nebraska along the banks of the Platte River. There were good times with my friend Sam and his family and with my friend Eddie as he drenched me to the skin with his wild driving (see the video below). But the best time was with Sam out in his fields.
Space and solitude have always spoken to me, and I’ve been thinking about finding a way to express what happens when you’re all alone in a big place.
Next week I’m going camping. And not the Texas variety of camping where you stay in a cabin and everyone thinks it’s “rustic” because there’s no internet and the TV is smaller than the one you’ve got at home.
No, I’m talking about real camping. Seven days on a desert island. With no snack bar. The kind of camping where you pack in all your food and water, sleep in a tent, and eat dehydrated food out of bags.
The kind of camping where you leave your phone behind because there’s not even a slight chance you’ll have cell service.
These endangered foxes are curious little creatures about the size of a house cat.
The kind of camping where you won’t hear the ping of incoming email or the rush of passing cars, but where you might see things like this little island fox I ran into on my last trip out there.
In other words, I’m doing the perfect kind of camping. I’m going off the grid. I can’t wait.
What a wee little part of a person’s life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself. All day long, and every day, the mill of his brain is grinding, and his thoughts, (which are but the mute articulation of his feelings,) not those other things, are his history. His acts and his words are merely the visible thin crust of his world, with its scattered snow summits and its vacant wastes of water – and they are so trifling a part of his bulk! A mere skin enveloping it. The mass of him is hidden – it and its volcanic fires that toss and boil, and never rest, night nor day. These are his life, and they are not written, and cannot be written.
– Samuel Clemens, Autobiography of Mark Twain, Volume 1
It’s new because I just made it. It’s old because we ripped it out of our downstairs bathroom. And it’s “old” because it’s been through a 7-step process to make it look like it’s been hanging in a barn for a few decades. It’s a new, old, “old” mirror. photos & video on the flip side… Read more