In my time spent capturing images of wildlife, some of the most fun I’ve had came from observing babies at play. From mountain goats and bighorn sheep, to foxes and elk, it is incredibly endearing to watch these tiny new lives frolicking and interacting with one another as they learn their way in the world and their place in the herd or litter. Play is play no matter what species is enjoying the activity. As with any babies, humans included, the activity is usually doubling as exercises or games that develop basic socialization skills as well as general standing among the greater group.

Baby goats can be seen “riding” each other, which often translates to early establishment of dominance in herd hierarchy. I’ve enjoyed watching baby bighorns “squaring up” with a gentle head butt just like their fathers. Foxes tend to spend a good bit of time “wrestling” around outside the den entrance as the alphas of the litter make known their place at the top. Sometimes though, it’s just play, as all babies tend to get the “zoomies” and run around pell-mell with no agenda other than getting out some pent up baby energy.

All of that said, it is not nearly as common to see moments of play from elders, which is why in all my experiences of watching animals at play, this encounter from the vaults sticks out so endearingly.

Six years ago I was wrapping up an afternoon photo walkabout, heading home as winter’s early dusk stole the light. I was making my way past the Nederland RTD Park and Ride when a little bur of motion caught my eye. I gave pause to see if my eyes were playing tricks on me in the dimming light. Sure enough one of the resident foxes of the Wolftongue mine buildings was making its own way along the hilltop parallel to my own path.

Typically I would have given the neighbor a brief passing greeting and kept on my way, but my curiosity got the better of me. I watched the fox round the “corner” of the hill crest where the ridge of West 1st Street meets the sledding hill, and make its way towards me. Foxes are typically a bit skittish of humans, so it’s choice to head towards me held my interest. It walked to about the middle of the hill, then sat down briefly, watching me to assess any possible danger. Then the fox began to roll about in the snow like any canine delighting in the merriment of the winter blanket.

The next bit took me aback. While I typically would have considered it too dark to photograph, I couldn’t help but raise the camera in the dim light to see if I might get lucky with the action. The rolling about sent the fox over the edge of the hill, and sure enough, down it came sliding on its back, coming to a stop (with a little more rolling) at the bottom. Normally I would have laughed it off as a funny sort of mistake, but the fox got up, shook off the snow, gave me another look then headed back up the hill for another go.

I would imagine that after watching so many humans, big and small, playing and sledding on the hillside, it was time for its own fun session. The next trip down it stretched out fully and slid down on its side, taking advantage of the slick path left by so many sled runs to gain a little speed. Once at the bottom, it again scampered back to the top, reveling in the pure and simple fun of the ride.

It’s third trip down, seen here, brought it skidding to a halt a bit closer to me than previous runs, and it got up a little nervous, gave another shake, then looked at me seemingly with a bit of a smile and wink and happily trotted off across the road and into the dark of the evening. A beautiful and comical lesson from nature that no matter how old we are, we should always take time to play, even if only for brief moments.

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