West Edge mounts a charming forest fable

[...] by situating these timeless themes in the context of life in nature — the cycles of the seasons, the peaceful and not-so-peaceful coexistence of animals and humans — Janácek creates a tale that is at once breezy and profound.

The piece’s three acts (condensed to an ill-balanced two in this production) really amount to a collection of vignettes from the Czech forest, in which huntsmen tipple in bars with their neighbors, wild animals court and marry beneath a semi-enchanted moon, and the boundaries between species come to seem ever more porous.

With its rhythms based in Czech speech, its brilliant orchestral writing and its sudden bursts of Straussian reverie, the music encompasses both the sentimental and tough-minded strains of its source material.

[...] even though “Vixen” has all the makings of a nursery story or Christmas pageant — kids dressed up as little animals, sylvan settings that shift magically, a blustery but good-hearted human lead — that’s only part of the piece’s charm.

The company’s home in the cavernous, decrepit 16th Street train station in Oakland calls for a forest setting that is more an act of will than a natural environment, and Sarah Phykitt’s stage set conjures that up with a witty blend of cardboard tree trunks, hubcaps and spray paint.

Christine Crook’s costumes — bright yellow tutus for a band of jittery chicks, red leather with furry tails and ears for the vulpine lovers — were a deft feat of imagination.

The Forester, who captures her and brings her home as a sort of pet — only to lose her and chase after her for the rest of the opera — was sung with robust splendor by the great bass Philip Skinner, whose mastery of vocal shading and dramatic nuance never fails to amaze.