The text at 7:07 a.m. read, “Hey, are you up,” the start of my introduction to one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.
The text was from Medora Plimpton, a Starksboro nurse and wildlife rehabber I’d become friends with after she raised a posse of opossum babies I’d found in the road a couple of years earlier. We share a love for animals, and I knew immediately that this wasn’t a simple social message.
It was a plea for help for at least one little life, probably more.
I called Medora immediately, and learned a Springfield woman had a baby animal — a coyote or fox — that needed help, and a ride from Springfield to Plimpton’s nonprofit, Howling Mountain Wildlife Rescue.
I was on my way to Springfield within minutes.
The woman had purchased the animal, which she thought was a coyote, from a guy who hawked it via Facebook. She knew wild animals were not pets, and wanted to help it and its siblings.
The woman, living in a walkup apartment accessed via outdoor, rotten-wood steps, a couple of which nearly broke as I went up them, clearly didn’t have a lot of money to throw around. Yet she’d shelled out enough to get one of the puppies — they turned out to be gray foxes — and figure out where they were.
She reported the seller to authorities, which lead to a call to Medora, and her text to me looking for a ride for the one pup — its eyes not yet even open — that had been recovered at that point.
To say this animal was cute would be like saying the sun is bright.
Her tiny, dark-gray snout was tipped with a black button nose, and wavy, light-gray fur starting just behind her eyes gave her a look of speed and action. Her canine teeth were barely sticking out from her gums.
Her body fur was clean and thick, and hung smoothly along her body to the base of her tail, which stood up like a 2-inch antenna.
It was love at first sight.
Wearing heavy leather gloves, I slid the pup into a small animal crate, thanked the woman, texted Medora that I’d made the pickup and was on the way, and headed north to Starksboro.
The little pup was tiny, weighing only about 6 ounces, but she had a big appetite. Medora started feeding her from a bottle as soon as we arrived, which made me smile and washed a warm feeling through me as I watched.
Later that morning, a game warden recovered the pup’s three siblings from the guy who was trying to sell them, and they were reunited at Howling Mountain.
Throughout the next few months, I visited the quartet every week or two, enjoying the privilege of watching them grow up in a modern Eden. The one I picked up was the only girl in the litter and the only one with blue eyes, so it was easy to pick her out of the jumble of tails and snouts to watch her antics — while helping ensure she maintained her wildness.
Medora restricts human interaction with her charges, so though I could see them occasionally, I kept my visits short, and the pups and I maintained a safe distance from each other. They maintained their innate and well-founded fear of humans other than Medora.
As summer turned toward fall, the pups became stunningly beautiful animals, with thick, flowing fur, playful “personalities,” and fun-loving attitudes.
As they grew and became capable of feeding themselves, they gained the ability to come and go as they pleased. They’d roll in the grass, catch prey and chase one another up trees and through the woods, but they regularly stopped by Medora’s place for a free meal — until they didn’t.
They successfully made the transition from would-be pets back to what they always should have been — stunning, wild animals.
My little travel companion maintained her blue eyes all summer until she disappeared, leaving a tiny feeling of emptiness and touching a special spot in my heart.
Steve Costello is a former Rutland Herald and The Times Argus reporter and editor and Green Mountain Power executive, now retired and focused on wildlife photography.
