Spotted at UTSC: A Beast

Reading Time: 2 minutes

The path from MW to HW lays between undead Sakura trees. The schoolyard is empty – it’s spring break, though you could hardly call this mash of chills, mud and greyness “spring”. The winds have been continuously blowing for a few days now, and the snow that covered the old, grey buildings has melted away. There isn’t a soul around, and I walk slowly, enjoying the surrounding peaceful silence.

For a second, with the corner of my eye I notice an orange figure trotting past me. At first I give it no attention – perhaps it is a mid-sized garbage bag that has found its way to the University’s grounds, supposedly, where it belongs. But it keeps moving, and as I turn my gaze to follow this strange orange ball, I see that it’s a fox.

The fox looks sick, perhaps undernourished after struggling to find food this winter. Its white fur looks sticky and thick, and it’s missing half of its tail. Its eyes are covered with clumps of fur. But it hastily trots past me, its body lowered to the ground, cautiously passes the nearby grazing geese, slithers between the undead Sakura trees, until it reaches the one it trots for, and starts to dig.

I look around to see if there is anyone else who stands witness to what I am seeing. The University seems dead, oblivious to this occasion. Right now I am the sole witness of this awe, except for the geese, who stopped grazing and stare at the fox as well. I can’t believe my eyes.

The fox digs out a small black corpse and greedily starts to chew. I hear bones cracking. Although I cannot see the fox’s eyes, I notice how its brows pull together in satisfaction of devouring yet another scarce meal. Now it is the fox that’s oblivious to the world; the world can wait while the hunter eats.

I see the HW doors open and another student comes into the garden. He notices the fox, and now he, just as I am, stares in awe at this creature casually chewing up its food in the middle of the undead Sakuras. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. I think that observing the fox with my eyes is more satisfying than taking a picture and moving on. He notices my contempt and approaches me.

We share a few words about the fox’s health and the scarcity of something like this happening were it not for the spring break. He starts to take off, and mentions calling the campus police to deal with the situation. I dumbfoundedly look at him. What the fuck will the campus police do to a fox peacefully having its meal?