Village Squire, 1975-11, Page 17"Well, we'll see, have to get a permit to keep them you know."
Jimmy brought bread and milk but the pups wouldn't eat.
Everything was so strange here, the sights, the sounds, the
smells, a new world. The; saw the kennel entrance and retired
hastily from view.
"Never mind J im, they'll eat tomorrow, leave them be, they're
pretty upset."
When night came both foxes visited the Parsons farm. It took
no great amount of sleuthing to discover the pups. The frantic
scent of their fear was wafted half a mile on the evening breeze.
There was a brief conference partly grunts and moans but
mostly mental telepathy.
"Get that fool hound out of here and I'll see what I can do."
Reynard flashed across the door of Bozo's kennel and both
departed...Bozo splitting the night air with his bellows.
In the moonlight Rowena made a swift survey of the pen. The
pups overjoyed, wagged tails and crawled on bellies.
The mother tore at the wire, it was still strong. She tried the
door, it was secure, she dug frantically but the ground was hard.
A door opened and Grandpa appeared on the porch. There was
something in his hand that looked like a gun. The mother slipped
away, a small almost imperceptible shadow in a world of
shadows. She slid behind a clump of thistles and waited.
The old man knelt behind a watering trough and rested the gun
across it. He was out of sight there or thought he was. The tox
was not fooled, she could not see him but the scent pointed out
Grandpa to her almost like a beam of light.
The pups whimpered and cried, wriggling along the pen wall
and standing on their hind legs. One crawled up the wire as far as
the overhang then fell heavily. The moon went behind a cloud
and came out again. Bozo gave tongue from far away and a
breeze brought chill air from a swamp.
Grandpa shifted uneasily, his knees were sore and the breeze
lifted his shirt tail. Grandpa slept in his shirt only. This would be
bad for rheumatism. He went back to the house.
Rowena slipped back to the pen; a quick circuit confirmed the
former inspection. Some thing more was needed. She went up the
pen wall to the roof; here she found the weak spot.
To save money Grandpa had roofed the centre of the pen with
chicken wire. Long ago it had seen its best days. Rowena went
through it easily. The pups squalled with excitement.
Here was a problem now, there was no going back through the
roof; there was an overhang of tough wire. At any moment now
that old man would be out again with his gun. Round and round
the pen went the mother in a frenzy. She dug, she tore at the
wire, she hurled herself against it. Suddenly a gap appeared in
the wire of the pen wall. Some staples had pulled out of rotting
wood. The four were out in a flash moving as one.
Grandpa appeared in his shirt tail. He fired a futile shot gun
blast, a gesture only.
The four fugitives sped through the night. They reached the
den and the pups wanted to stop. Rowena nudged them on
squealing and protesting. A mile away they found another den.
Here they stayed, and the pups were exhausted.
Reynard had led Bozo far away. He circled and cut a figure
eight. He ran up a small creek. He reached a pasture farm and
rushed into the centre of a sleeping herd of cattle. He pranced
and leaped about in their sleeping wondering midst. It was a kind
of hypnotism. Just as the cattle finally full awake rose to consider
this phenomenon he shot out to one side. Bozo entered the
aroused circle moments later. He was met by lowered horns and
bellows of rage. He preceded a speedy young heifer with a sharp
pair of horns, by only a few feet to the nearest fence. He returned
home disgusted; one got into the oddest predicaments chasing
foxes.
When Reynard found the family he looked for some praise.
There was none.
"What took you so long, you could have helped with the
children? I had an awful time to get them this far."
J immy had slept through all the disturbance. In the morning he
was shocked to find the pups gone and all his plans upset.
"Whatever happened Grandpop? I thought I heard a gun shot.
Did you hit any of them?"
"Never touched them Jim, the old one got them away clean
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VILLAGE SQUIRE/NOVEMBER 1975, 15