ways of seeing: fantastic mr. fox

Taking advantage of slightly warmer, but still wintry, temperatures, Bonster and I visited World's End in Hingham, MA, a 251-acre "coastscape" maintained by the Trustees of Reservations just 15 miles south of Boston.

I had high hopes for the sunset and the light it would cast over the frozen land and water, but alas, the sun retreated behind thick clouds two hours ahead of schedule, never to return. I managed several photos that capitalized on the clear, bright afternoon, the firmament just beckoning for images created in its likeness. Mere steps from Boston's urban sprawl, our eyes drank in the vistas and the rich scenes: deep blues with scattered puffs of white painted across the sky, reflections in the liquid mirror below, hardy gulls and ducks slowly treading water in search of food.

Ascending from The Bar up toward Planter's Hill, we spotted a red fox out for lunch. A bold fellow, he did not mind our presence at all, allowing me to get relatively close. I'm pretty sure he cast several looks in our direction, contemplating us as a potential meal. Then he began trotting in my direction, muscles tensing up. I lowered my camera, readying myself to flee this carnivorous beast. And in that instant, he pounced upon a field mouse. I heard the dying squeal of the unfortunate rodent, the cracking of bones as our fox devoured his prey. I knew at that moment that any hope I had of becoming a National Geographic photographer had vanished: I had failed to capture the kill. Not an event for the queasy-stomached, it definitely made our trip more than worth it.

The rocky coastline, icy coves, and distant views offered by glacier-carved hills offered beautiful views of the water and surrounding terrain. I marveled at the sheets of ice that had collided with one another, rupturing the icescape and creating frozen fields that sat in disarray. It required only a small leap of imagination to envision myself alongside Amundsen, Peary, Shackleton, and Byrd, the great Arctic and Antarctic explorers.