Anyone who grew up in the North knows all about snow fences.
Road crews install the flat, angled wood or metal partitions 50 yards or so off a road as a wind-slowing buffer to encourage snow to drift or pile up against the lee side of the fence rather than spill across the road. The fences can be lengthy too: up to a couple of hundred yards.
There’s a parallel in terms of wind-blown trash down this way. The South employs its own warm weather version of the snow fence, aka street medians. Even though medians are intended to separate lanes of traffic, these low profile barriers collect their share of litter, too.
Most of what is pushed to the base of medians is of the small but visually annoying variety; cigarette butts (the cursed things!), bits of plastic, bottle caps, drinking straws, flattened plastic bottles and the like.
This jetsam may be small in stature but it presents big headaches when it comes to trash. It’s just plain urban filth. I see the problem from a safe distance but don’t work the lane dividers as religiously as I should since afternoon traffic wouldn’t tolerate some yahoo darting about in the tight confines between the median and cars.
Now, Saturday and Sunday mornings are a bit different. With almost no traffic buzzing by in the early a.m. hours, it’s safer for me to tote the bag to clean up along these dividers. And that’s just what I’ll do at intersections of Colony and Sharon View and Colony and Fairview and Sharon and Sharon View Roads.
What I wouldn’t object to on steamy mornings, however, is the cool or cold breeze that necessitates the northern version of these trash trappers.
One of the joys of my early morning weekend litter walks is a chance to commune with nature – such as it is in an urban area – in relative silence. That quiet is broken, welcomely so, by the glorious sounds of birds and the routine sight of deer prancing across the street.
And then there was this.
About 15 feet in front of me along Colony Road, a fox nonchalantly stepped out of underbrush and in it’s mouth dangled the lifeless body of a large rabbit. The hunter had found its prey.
Aside from a quick glance my way, the fox was oblivious to my presence as it trotted across the four trafficless lanes. Then things got a bit odd.
After it reached the other side, it didn’t automatically disappear among the trees and bushes, rather it continued southward on the sidewalk for more than a full block. It was just another pedestrian out for a stroll on a quiet weekend morning. If it was returning to feed a litter of kits, then that forest family had something to celebrate. It’s a sight I wouldn’t mind seeing again.