Village Squire, 1975-11, Page 15He flopped down, curled himself in a tight ring, swung tail over
nose and went to sleep.
inch by inch he topped the ridge, sure enough there was the den
and there the pup still sleeping.
He rose carefully, there must be no sudden movement but the
last few yards would have to be a rush. He would just have to
chance one of the old foxes being near and giving the alarm. Step
by silent step, he moved. Only Running Dog could move like this.
Now was the time. Three swift strides and a pounce. He
sprawled full length and the jacket was over the pup.
Excitement rose up in this throat and almost choked him. He
smelled the pungent fox smell close under his nose. The puppy
cried out and somehow he became J immy Parsons again. The fox
felt small and fragile under his hand. He mustn't hurt it. He
relaxed his hold just a little. There was a sharp pain in a finger
and for a second he pulled his hand back. In that second the pup
was gone scuttling for the den.
The boy lay there almost crying with disappointment. He had
held the pup and now it was gone. Blood dripped from his hand
and the pain was sharp. He stuck the finger in his mouth and
went home.
Grandma ripped a piece of cotton and wrapped the finger. She
poured turpentine on the cloth.
"Ow Grandma that hurts worse than the bite."
"Well don't go sticking your finger in a fox's mouth then.
Goodness sake you men beat everything, always pestering the
poor wild animals."
He told his grandfath. r about it. "There's three pups
Grandpop, do you think we could dig them out?"
"You and I would take a week to dig that den out. It will run all
over the top of the hill, but we may have to get them some way.
Looks like it might be a bad year for poultry. If we get the pups
the old ones might leave. We could keep them until pelting time.
Grandpa Parsons was officially retired. However, he kept a
little of this and that in the way of livestock. There were a dozen
ewes and whatever lambs they raised. There was a cow, a goat,
some geese, and a small flock of hens.
He bought a little pig every spring and fed it all summer on
something out of a barrel that was called swill and didn't cost
much. In the fall there were sacrificial rites and the pig became
meat and lard.
Grandpa did everything the uneconomic way. According to
farm experts he was losing a great deal of money just keeping
these bits and pieces around.
In defiance of all this well informed opinion the two old people
lived well. They even saved money. They put it in a bank.
The farm was in a comfortable state of disrepair. The fences
could have been better, the barn lacked a few shingles. There
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VILLAGE SQUIRE/NOVEMBER 1975, 13