On the way home today, I saw a fox. He stepped tentatively out of the underbrush that lines the strip between the sidewalk and the railroad, between the Southfield Freeway and the first building. He appeared to want to cross Michigan Avenue, but with the traffic noise, he didn't notice me until I was a few feet away. He ducked back into the brush. I couldn't blame him -- heck, I would not try to cross Michigan Avenue at that spot at rush hour.
I did not recognize it as a fox right away, but for its size and gait. Its face was whitish, and its tail was bushy only halfway down its length, with the last half nearly bare of fur. It was the rattiest, mangiest-looking fox I've ever seen. Maybe he fell into the Rouge River. I felt sorry for him and did something you're not supposed to do: I dug out a stale doughnut from my lunchbag and left it on the path he took into the brush.
Another adult bicyclist appeared suddenly next to me -- no wonder I snuck up on the fox, as I never heard or saw this guy, either -- and he slowed and asked whether it was a fox, and I said yes. Then he was gone. Although I live and work in a highly populated area, I see more wild animals along my commute than other bicycle commuters. Fancy that.
Temp was 68 degrees, overcast, calm, dry. But it's raining now and forecast all day tomorrow.