Run with the Wind (14 page)

Even in her terror, Vickey had run away from the evergreens in the general direction of Beech Paw, and the two dog foxes knew better than to try and reason with her. At least, they thought, they might be able to keep her out of trouble and help her find a safe place to rest. Suddenly, however, they found themselves being mobbed by a number of rooks. They were trotting along under a row of beech trees that had once sheltered the lonely homestead of a sheep farmer. Perhaps the rooks had memories of foxes or stoats preying on young squabs that fell from their nests. Or perhaps they knew something was wrong. Creatures of the wild are quick to sense when other creatures are in trouble.

Whatever the reason, the rooks continued to mob them until they were well away from the trees. Black Tip thought of how he and Skulking Dog had caught one of the magpies when they were out hunting, and wondered if he might do the same now. The rooks, however, wheeled well out of range.

In a rocky depression some distance away, other eyes looked up at the rooks and wondered what they had found so interesting. The fun dogs had been resting after a sheep-hunting escapade, and sensing from the action of the crows that a stranger had strayed into their territory, they rose to investigate.

The first the foxes knew the fun dogs were searching for them, was when a snipe rose with a shriek from a marshy patch of hillside and spiralled into the sky. Looking back they immediately recognised their old enemies, the Alsatian and the three smaller dogs. They were fairly close, and whatever about Black Tip and Fang, it was obvious there was no way Vicky could outrun them.

‘There’s only one thing for it,’ Black Tip told Fang. ‘I’ll draw them off. You look after Vickey.’

Fang shook his head. ‘Your place is with Vickey. I’ll go.’

‘But your leg,’ Black Tip protested.

‘It’s as good as new,’ Fang assured him.

The two dog foxes looked at each other. They had become very firm friends since that day they had fought for the favours of Vickey back at Beech Paw. It was strange how jealousy had turned to resentment, resentment to admiration, and admiration to friendship.

‘There’s no other way,’ added Fang.

Black Tip nodded. ‘I wish I could go with you.’

‘So do I, but Vickey needs you.’

‘You must take great care,’ warned Black Tip. ‘You’ll be up against greater odds than you’ve ever faced before.’

Fang laughed. ‘They’ll have to have their wits about them if they want to catch me.’

Black Tip knew Fang was trying to make light of the danger. Then a familiar bark of excitement told them the fun dogs had picked up their scent.

‘I’ll be off then,’ said Fang.

‘Take care,’ cautioned Black Tip. ‘And don’t forget, run with the wind.’

A short distance away, Fang stopped and looked back. He saw Black Tip leading Vickey to the shelter of some rocks. The fun dogs hadn’t seen them, but their barking was getting louder now. Fang knew he must show himself, otherwise the scent would lead them to Black Tip and Vickey. He made his way across a stony slope. Small stones began to roll down the hill, taking others with them in a noisy stream of rubble. The fun dogs looked up. They saw him. They squealed with excitement and bounded after him. Pausing only long enough to make sure they didn’t abandon him and return to the stronger scent of Black Tip and Vickey he turned and sped in the general direction of Beech Paw.

Man wasn’t to be seen much in this hill country, and Fang was glad. It was bleak and sparse, but it enabled him to move fast. It was so long since he had been on his own, he was reminded of the days before Beech Paw when he had
hunted by himself. Those were good days, he thought, but so were the days with Old Sage Brush and the others. He had enjoyed those too. The adventures had been good, and he had learned a lot. Now they were depending on him. He must not let them down.

The fun dogs were barking loudly as they launched themselves into the chase. How, Fang wondered, was he going to out-run them? What if the old fox was right and he couldn’t? If they killed him, they would surely get the others. Yet he did have the advantage of being on his own. On the way from Beech Paw, they had been delayed by Old Sage Brush and Hop-along, and there was no way they could have out-run the fun dogs. Black Tip’s unfortunate tussle with the choking hedge-trap hadn’t helped either. Dogs with a taste for blood could read the signs of a tussle like that. It was just as well they hadn’t seen Vickey. They’d have sensed she was in trouble, and that would have been the end for her. He had never said it to Black Tip but he still had a great liking for her, and still wished he could have had her for his mate.

The barking of the fun dogs brought him back to reality with a jolt. They were gaining on him. Black Tip’s parting words ran through his mind. ‘Take care,’ Black Tip had said, ‘and run with the wind.’ It was the same advice Old Sage Brush had given them when they had set out from Beech Paw. The problem was that unless the wind changed direction, he must run into it to make sure the fun dogs followed
him. On the other hand, he couldn’t risk letting them get too close to him, so he circled with the wind to slow them down and give himself time to think. He wished Black Tip was with him. What would he do if he was in this situation? He’d do what Old Sage Brush had taught him to do — use his cunning where courage wasn’t enough.

Thinking of Black Tip made Fang wonder if the choking hedge-trap had been re-set. Surely it would, since it would have been obvious that a fox had been caught in it. This gave him an idea. He would now use the wind to even greater advantage.

Turning into the wind again. He headed for the area where Black Tip had been caught in the choking hedge-trap. He could hear from the barking that the fun dogs had picked up his scent again and were gaining on him. That was what he wanted. A short time later he found the field and then the hedge where he had struggled to free Black Tip. Just as he had anticipated, the choking hedge-trap was back in position. He paused and looked behind him. He could hear the fun dogs crashing through the gorse at the top of the field. Then they burst out into the open, and on seeing him began barking with greater excitement than ever. Quickly he hopped over the hedge-trap and disappeared from their view.

Unaware that they were running into a trap, the dogs careered down the field and into the gap in the hedge. A
loud yelping told Fang his plan had worked. Looking back, he saw the Alsatian struggling to free itself. However, he could also see that because of the dog’s height, it wasn’t its head but its forelegs that had been caught. This meant it would soon free itself and come after him again, but at least he had earned himself a breathing space. He chuckled. Old Sage Brush would have liked that one.

Back at the hedge the Alsatian was still struggling on its hind legs to try and free itself from the snare. The smaller dogs were running around, barking, but not knowing what to do.

The snare had tightened at the Alsatian’s knees. It wrenched its forelegs again. The snare slipped over its knees and down to its paws. Dancing back on its hind legs, it gave a final wrench and was free. Immediately it turned and sped away in pursuit of the fox, followed by its three smaller companions.

Fang knew that the fun dogs wouldn’t give up so easily. It wasn’t long before he heard them on his trail again, and he was glad. The last thing he wanted was them to give up and turn back. At the same time he realised that he would have to use every trick he had ever learned if he was to stay ahead of them. He circled, doubled back, laid false trails, used streams, everything in fact he could think of. However, as the day wore on, the dogs grew closer. He was wondering what he was going to do, when he came across a badger set. If there were badgers in the area, perhaps there were foxes too. If not,
maybe an empty earth where he could take refuge. Desperately he scouted the fields, but search as he would he could find no trace of either fox or earth. Then it occurred to him that the badger set might be empty and he could take refuge there. Again his luck was out. The set was occupied.

Fang was turning to go when he remembered how he had gone into the set back at the evergreens and to his embarrassment and Hop-along’s amusement had been booted out by an angry boar. He wondered. The fun dogs were closing in on him. Now they had spotted him. Well, he thought, here goes. Plunging into the set, he whizzed past a badger who had been awakened by the barking of the dogs. The boar was so surprised that Fang was past him before he realised what was happening. Turning around to give chase, the boar found three small dogs piling up at his hind feet. Furious at this invasion of his home, he did what the other badger had done to Fang. He pulled in his back feet and unleashed them with all the power he could muster, catapulting the small dogs clear out of the set to land yelping at the feet of the Alsatian.

Fang, meanwhile, had skidded past the boar’s mate and her cubs and had gone out a back way with the speed of a scalded cat. By the time the dogs discovered they had been tricked again, he had gained another head start. He was, however, far from happy. They had come close — too close. He might not be so lucky next time. And he still hadn’t succeeded in drawing them away from the path to Beech Paw.

Pausing briefly to take his bearings, Fang could see he was now on the land of the farmer who had fired at Skulking Dog and himself the day they had stopped to feed on the sheep that had been killed by the fun dogs. He hadn’t realised he had circled back so far in his efforts to keep ahead of them, and he knew he would have to be very careful. They were familiar with this territory, probably more familiar with it than he was. He’d also have to keep an eye out for the farmer’s dogs and a very hostile farmer.

Thinking of these things, it now occurred to Fang that if he was on dangerous ground, so also were the fun dogs, and he wondered if, perhaps, he could turn that to his advantage and get rid of them once and for all. He looked back. They were closing in on him again. It would be dangerous, he thought, but what had he to lose? It was worth a try.

In a field not far from the farm buildings, he could see a flock of sheep, and he streaked towards them. In a moment he was in among them, sending them running, bleating, first as a flock, then in all directions. A few seconds later the fun dogs were in there too. Now they could see him, now they couldn’t as he ran hither and thither among the sheep. Not surprisingly, the sheep panicked, and the more they did so, the more excited the dogs became. In their excitement, they soon forgot all about Fang, and their lust for chasing and killing sheep, their pastime for so long, took over. Throwing all caution to the wind, they proceeded to indulge themselves
in an orgy of destruction.

Having lured them into the field, Fang now slipped away from it, and when next he stopped it was to listen to the sound of shots from the direction of the farm. He waited to see if the fun dogs would reappear. There was no sign of them, and he turned to go back for Black Tip and Vickey and the others. The way to Beech Paw, he knew, was now clear.

Fifteen

When the Hogweed Blooms Again

A
late snowstorm was swirling around Glensinna, turning the meadows an unseasonal white and giving an edge to the wind that ruffled the rooks in the beech trees. However, the foxes that made their way doggedly along the dry ditch beneath the long row of beeches scarcely noticed it. They were back in their beloved Land of Sinna, and they knew a disused quarry where the snow wouldn’t reach and the wind wouldn’t worry them.

It seemed a long time since they had left Beech Paw. But the quarry was still unoccupied, the den dry and undisturbed.
There they would rest a while before going their separate ways.

As they snuggled close together for warmth, they thought of all they had seen and done. They were tired, and because of their tiredness they wondered among themselves if it had been worthwhile.

Old Sage Brush sighed. ‘Why do you have so little faith?’ he asked.

They lowered their heads, not knowing what to reply, and the old fox went on: ‘Where is the determination that defeated all who opposed us? Where is the courage that drove back the fun dogs, and where is the cunning that destroyed them? Have you learned so little that you falter now?’

‘But have we learned enough to survive the attacks of
man
?’ asked Vickey.

Knowing this was what they were all wondering, Old Sage Brush answered with one of those wise sayings that had so often given them courage before.

‘Tell me this,’ he said. ‘If the lowly beetle can overcome the mighty elm, however tall, cannot the cunning of Vulpes overcome the work of man, however great?’

‘There are many beetles,’ remarked Black Tip, ‘and there are only a few of us.’

‘True,’ replied Old Sage Brush. ‘There are few of us, but we are wiser now, and very soon we will be few of many’

The others were silent, and as always, sorry that they had
once again doubted the old fox. They knew this was his way of reminding them that cubbing time was almost upon them, and that the lessons they had learned would help not only themselves, but their cubs, to survive.

Soon they drifted off to sleep, and for the first time in a long while, it was a peaceful sleep. Some of them dreamt of hunting in the fields around Beech Paw again, and some of them dreamt of the cubs they would soon have and how they would teach them to hunt.

As for Old Sage Brush who was dozing beside Vickey and Black Tip, he dreamt they were on their travels from Beech Paw again, and when he awoke he began to think about them. The little brown hen, he recalled. That was their first adventure. He chuckled now as he thought about it. It had worked well, hadn’t it? Then he found himself thinking about Lepus, the leader of the hares, and how Hop-along had fooled him. He smiled. That was a good one. So was the way the horses and the howling dogs had been thrown into confusion at the hunt. That was when Skulking Dog and Running Fox had brought his daughter Sinnéad back into his life. Sinnéad and She-la would be telling their cubs about the great raid they had made into the Land of the Giant Ginger Cats with Scavenger. Ah, Scavenger, thought Old Sage Brush. He was a great little fox. In a way he reminded him of Whiskers, the otter. It was good that they had been able to help Whiskers put a stop to the greedy mink. Then
the fun dogs had almost put a stop to them. That was a great fight. It was Fang who had finally put a stop to the fun dogs. Faithful Fang. He would be heading off now, but the young foxes would hear all about him. They’d also hear how Black Tip had saved Vickey from the stoat hunters. Vickey, content now to be back in Beech Paw, would be turning her den into a nursery, and the other vixens would be looking around for dens of their own. It was time.

In a snow-white dawn, Black Tip and Vickey stood with Old Sage Brush on the rim of the quarry. The others had gone their separate ways, and the old fox, back again on familiar ground, was going his. Silently they touched noses, and then he was away.

As they watched him go, Vickey said: ‘Do you really think we found the secret of survival?’

‘I think so,’ said Black Tip. ‘Don’t you?’

Vickey smiled and nodded.

‘But we never did find the Great White Fox,’ said Black Tip.

‘Maybe not,’ Vickey replied. ‘Then again, maybe we didn’t look hard enough

Snowflakes were swirling across the fields, and as they watched Old Sage Brush make his way along the hedgerows, his coat soon became white and he disappeared into the snow-clad countryside.

A gentle breeze, softened by the late onset of spring, ruffled the sparse hair on Vickey’s underside as it rose and fell with the breath of contentment. Her two suckling cubs were at one with the world, and so was she. One cub had died within her during the fight with the fun dogs, but the other two more than made up for it. From where she lay she could see that spring had brought forth from the moss, the first fragile shoots of wood-sorrel. Three heart-shaped leaves on a slender pink stem; larger than a shamrock, yet light green and delicate. By the time their small white flowers appeared, she knew her cubs would have opened their eyes. Shifting her gaze to the top of the bank immediately opposite, she could see that while she had been having her cubs, young ferns had been pushing their way up into the world. The ferns now stood with heads curled, like notes of music while overhead in the brambles, small birds were singing. Nature had written her own symphony to the new life that was springing up all around.

Vickey was contemplating these things when Black Tip arrived. He had caught her some food in the meadows, and as usual she would bury it in a hiding place nearby and eat it later when she was hungry and the cubs were full.

They were both amused by the little dog’s black tip.

‘No need to ask you what you’re going to call him,’ smiled Black Tip. ‘And what about the vixen? What’s her name going to be?’

Vickey caressed the little she cub. ‘Running Fox,’ she announced. ‘We’ll call her Running Fox.’

‘Why Running Fox?’ asked Black Tip.

‘Because we’ve stopped running, that’s why’

Black Tip was perplexed. ‘Why then call her Running Fox?’

‘What else?’ smiled Vickey. ‘It was the great running fox in the sky that guided us in our search for the secret of survival. And I’ll never forget little Running Fox in the Land of the Howling Dogs. That was his home and he wouldn’t run away from it. And now that we’ve returned to Beech Paw, we’ve stopped running, haven’t we?’

‘We have,’ said Black Tip. ‘Now, take good care of little Black Tip and Running Fox. I’ll see you later.’

From the rim of the quarry, Black Tip surveyed the valley. It was quiet and peaceful. Soon white blooms of cow parsley would spread along the hedgerows like spiders’ webs, but not for long. In no time at all they’d give way to the flowering hogweed. And then what? Black Tip smiled wryly to himself. He knew only too well that when the hogweed blooms had come and gone, man would hunt the fox again.