THE OTHER FOX
On the second night the snow stopped falling, but the icy northwest wind
came in shrieking blasts, whirling the flakes in every direction. It was
a terrible time for any creature without a snug home.
Red Ben's snow covering was whipped away; in the height of the storm he
floundered through the drifts until glad to stop behind a pile of brush
which offered some shelter. Here he came across a mink, also snow bound
and also half famished. There was an ominous glitter in the old mink's
eye. Hunger was making him dangerous. Red Ben crouched warily at the
edge of the brush. The mink curled up inside it, fairly bristling with
bad temper. Each hungrily watched the other. If the storm kept up there
would be a cruel fight, and one of them might never be seen again.
They were still watching each other when morning came. Both had made
short trips into the deep snow, only to return disheartened. But the sun
at last appeared and turned the world into a shimmering wonderland. It
warmed the air and melted the top of the snow so that it would pack
under the feet of the small woods creatures. The squirrels came out of
their holes in the hollow oaks and rushed to the nearest places in which
they remembered having hidden nuts. Crows cawed and walked along the
edges of the streams where the water had melted the snow. Wherever tall
weeds grew, there was great feasting. Flocks of little juncos and
chickadees were picking the seeds out of the dry tops.
The sour old mink slipped out of the brush pile, gave Red Ben a last
wicked look, then went bounding away. Now that the snow was melting and
heavy, instead of powdery as at first, his wide spreading toes kept him
from sinking out of sight.
Red Ben was much heavier and could not spread his toes. He therefore
sank up to his middle at every step. The squirrels laughed and barked at
him from safe perches; the little birds flew away ahead of him; the
crows set up a great racket and swooped at his head as if to pick out
his eyes; but still he kept on, hunting for something to eat. Following
the bed of the nearest stream, he escaped some of the deepest snow and
went a long distance before night. Never before had he travelled so long
in daylight, but never had he been so hungry, nor found so little to
eat.
The snow froze as soon as the sun sank. Where it had been thawed on top,
a hard crust quickly formed. On this, Red Ben could walk cautiously, but
not run, because it broke with him so easily. Again and again he saw
rabbits and tried to catch them, only to find himself floundering in the
snow at the first big jump. After losing one particularly fat one, and
seeing its white tail go bobbing away, he suddenly noticed that
something was following his own trail. There were shadows that slunk
about wherever he went.
Quickly slipping behind a snow covered holly bush, Red Ben waited. A
gray form, and then another, came cautiously along, nosing his tracks
and looking ahead: a gray fox and his mate. Red Ben sprang up, and the
pair floundered back in a panic. But every time he looked around again,
they were still following him, watching his every move with a hungry
gleam in their eyes such as was in those of the old mink, such as,
indeed, was now also coming into his own eyes. Were they hoping he would
catch some creature which they could share in eating, or were they
hoping to eat him when his strength gave out and he dropped helpless in
the treacherous snow?
When hunter grimly hunts hunter in the woods, it is indeed a time of
starvation. Not for years had there been such a snow in the Pine
Barrens. Red Ben longed for the country he had learned to know so well,
the Ridge, Cranberry Swamp and the edge of Ben Slown's farm lands. There
he would know just where to dig for mice under the snow, or to hunt for
frozen apples. He stopped every now and then to rest and to flash his
keen, white teeth at the two grays. How he would punish them when the
snow went away!
Suddenly he found that the grays were slinking nearer. They were lighter
than he and could walk much more easily on the snow crust. When he
growled, they growled back. Their sharp teeth and hungry eyes showed
plainly, when they were close. It was two against one, and Red Ben was
no longer the tireless, iron muscled fox which had so often outrun the
hounds. His limbs ached, his empty stomach burned his very heart, his
tail dragged through the snow. And yet he was as proud as ever. He threw
up his head and stood his full height. The grays shrank back, just a few
feet.
They let him plunge further into the woods; their time would come, they
could wait. They had not travelled a long distance and were not yet
weakening from the hunger.
Red Ben felt the ground slope sharply; suddenly he slipped headlong into
the bed of a stream. He knew the grays would come now. If he would only
get up quickly enough to meet them both! With a great struggle he threw
off the masses of loose snow and stood with feet wide apart, waiting.
Every hair stood on end, his big tail waved menacingly, he was for the
moment as formidable and wonderful as ever.
The grays stood cautiously watching. Why did they not give him a chance
to fight? He would show them! But it was not he they were watching. A
shadow was stealing along the stream bed--a shadow like Red Ben's. He
saw it and whirled around. The shadow stopped. Facing him, at a little
distance, stood a splendid red fox.
Red Ben noted the perfect form, rich fur and fresh look of this
newcomer. Three against one it would be now! The grays waited
expectantly. Red Ben and the new fox looked at each other. None moved.
The wind sighed in the pines overhead and beat brittle oak twigs against
each other. The grays circled suspiciously; something was wrong. Red Ben
watched them out of the corners of his eyes. The wind had brought to him
clearly the scent of the red fox. His nose was telling him more truly
than his eyes that this beautiful creature was the same as the mangy,
wretched little red fox he had once seen in the Barrens months before,
when Ben Slown's hound had driven him some distance from the Ridge.
He walked slowly towards her. There was no unfriendly snarl at his
approach. Her eyes sparkled; she frisked up to him, shyly, indeed, but
quite as if he were an old friend who had come back after a long
journey. She had not forgotten him. And Red Ben? His big heart began to
pound against his ribs. Long ago, in his loneliness, he had looked for
her--one of his own kind--a red fox like his mother.
He looked around for the two grays; the cowards had already gone, taking
for granted that the newcomer was Red Ben's mate. Would she be his mate?
How pleasantly different the bleak woods seemed all of a sudden as these
two wandered away together to food stores the pretty she-fox had
collected in times of plenty, just as Red Ben had collected and hidden
the first fish he had found on the beach. First he would follow her,
then she would follow him, and so they broke a new path into the silent
woods.