Fox Trek

By Cheryl Lee

A young fox is cruelly separated from his family, still ringing in his ears is the last words of his father,'Go West,To Find A Better Home'. His struggle: alone, traveling across the nation searching for that special place. A curious kit, he gets into and out of tricky situations, sees the wonders of the wild. Escapes death on many occations and yet his spirit pushes him to fulfill the dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Lee
• Release date: Apr 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476343822

Cheryl Lee

A retired educator now living in the Pacific Northwest.Traveled through and visited forty-eight of the fifty United States, summered in Mexico, Canada, Great Britain-England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, visited western France, written plays for elementary, middle, and high school, taught classical fencing, volunteer reading, teaching puppetry, international artist with work displayed in greater London, Scotland, Wales, mid-west and western states.I will also go by my late husband's title name, Cheryl Lee DeLighton, to honour my late husband, C.N. Lee DeLighton and the stories he dictated to me. See zazzle.com/CherylLeeDesigns or contact:[e-mail]

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Cheryl Lee

Copyright 2012 by Cheryl Lee

Cover: Photobucket

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Chapter One

Canadian Rockies - Fall

The trees picked up the slight breeze and waved gently as the sun rose behind them. In the air, a faint odor of newcomers in the area around the lake piqued the red fox's nose. A long red stream reflected on the water's edge where the hunter stood drinking. Otherwise, the mist on the lake made a perfect cover for the predator. He crouched in the grass, wet with the morning dew. Poplar trees snapped in the distance, but no matter to the hunter, his ears shifted towards the sound only. His flashing eyes spotted the cause of the new scent- a family of fighting skunks! Ever crouching in the silence and hidden by the tall foliage of wild rice, buffalo grass and cattails, the hunter observed this curiosity.

The trees had just changed colours so the red-coated hunter was camouflaged as he slowly crept up to the activity near the water's edge. Blending skillfully on the fallen leaves he nestled into a pile of wind swept colours. The skunks moved erratically, none drunk the liquid in which they fought. The fox was hungry; his search for food was nil since last sunrise. Snow came early in the upper region and cut off his chance at easy game. The hunting had been difficult at best, prey had disappeared from his hunting ground and an ever-expanding search kept him away for longer periods.

Rabbits, squirrels and mice had gone into deep cover days earlier. The rest of his natural food hibernated. Curiosity arose in him; the skunks usually hibernate, too.

Scarcity was the order rather than the exception within the hunter's food supply. Increasingly driven to expand his territory, far beyond the usual and he rarely saw other predators, in order to feed his own. The summer was difficult, he had watched the other fox leave the area, but his mate had difficulty with the births and they chose to stay behind instead of answering the call to move to new land. He needed this large size of catch in order to feed his own and this kill would give them strength to do just that. Snow patches hid the burrows of his easy prey. Icy ridges of the rivers' edges and the quiet lakes put the fish capture into a difficult adventure at best and dangerous at the least. The other predators had left the area as well. Soon, he and his large family will migrate to the lower region still unaffected by the approaching winter.

An alarm sounded in his cunning brain, but he ignored it the drive for food was too strong to have him heed the warning. His family's survival depended on him. His haunches rocked in anticipation, his muscles wound tight as he prepared his launch. His dash was swift and before an owl could blink, all of the stripped animals lay dead. Barely had the skunks had time to react to the pounce of the cleaver hunter. They had been stupidly fighting amongst their own, not for their survival against his skill.

Only a small nip on his left, hind leg - quite a hunter he thought to himself. Ever watchful as he satisfied himself he then picked up the extra to take back to his mate and nine kits. Now he had the energy to travel as well as enough food for his large, young family. He would relate this tale of his good fortune today repeatedly he thought. To pass on to his kits the training of such a kill would give them all pause to believe in him once more as a good provider. Teaching those awaiting offspring his skills for their own hunting adventures gave him pause. He was truly a fine provider for his family. In the morning they will travel down to the lower region and start afresh. What a lucky catch he kept thinking.

##

Few Days Later

Poor creatures, voiced a park ranger standing over two of the hunter's kits he just shot.

Rabies drove them crazy, said another voice as the two bodies were being tossed into the pickup truck's cargo bed, along with three other dead family members newly shot. The rest of the family lay dead as well, thus wiping out the total family unit.

Looks as if we had better trap and rid ourselves of the infected fox hereabouts, the first added as he entered the park truck still shaking his head at the fox’s losses. Knowing full well the consequences of that find and the eco-system that evolved around them, both rangers merely looked at each other as they drove off.

October the entire fox population either was exterminated by the rabies; or left in such low numbers and or thought of as not a threat to their normal prey. Mice, rabbits, squirrels, woodchucks, and other annoying rodents would run amuck and damage the ecological balance of nature in the territory. Thus, a plan was decided upon; transplant a healthy populace of fox elsewhere to the now void woods. So along the central woodlands of Canada and northern America, with regions across the latter's nation the round up would begin.

The combined efforts of both nations searched for an area or areas desirable group of fox for such movement. Three possibilities were found, one in particular was more than ideal. Quebec territory was the first choice, the second was the American Southwest, and finally, the upper mid-west states where the worrisome large fox population to the ranchers and farmers, threatened the livestock there. The plan was to take effect the coming spring before the pest became a hazard to farmers and livestock ranchers alike.

##

Chapter 2

Lake of the Woods - Spring

The rain fell softly. Scattered clouds heavy with rain let go of their last holdings. The mist was rising just as the sun broke though the patch of clouds. The air charged with new freshness. Buds were greening the gray-blackness of the woods. Only in the shadows of great evergreen trees sat clumps of snow doggedly staying on. These pine trees stood proudly green, beckoning the birch, maple, and poplar to match the above mentioned life colours.

Bobolinks land in flocks that blacken the snow patch and then eagerly dine on the newly sprouted grass and seedlings. They were chirping happily to themselves. The forest resounded with their songs. A quickly running stream breaks free of the icy grip to give drink to the thirsty flock merrily pecking at the new growth. Some of the birds bathe the winter off their wings and squawked happily. In the cedars flying squirrels peep from their holes awaken by the noise, eyes rubbed as if to wipe the sleep from them. These small, black, shinning beads peered down at the chirping group. An adventurous one climbs up onto an overhanging branch and chatters to those numerous black caps below.

Seeing another hanging limb across the way, several yards distance, the squirrel leaps and spreads his arms, thus opening the fur-coated flaps of skin. The air held between his 'wings' and he soars effortlessly to the other branch. As he does his 'flight', three more comrades' scramble to the lift off point and follow suit. Two Jays joined in the festivities and laughed at the acrobatics.

Where the meadow opened the white, sweet blossoms of the wild strawberries shone with the dew. The breeze rushed over the grasses in waves. Trotting purposefully through the underbrush caring a freshly killed grouse in his mouth the fox moved to his mate's den - a lightening struck tree with a burned hole used as a nesting place. He had done this ritual for several weeks now - leaving the food at the opening of the den, and then backing off. Not seeing his mate immediately, he sat with ears up turned towards the hole. He listened intently, but only the rustle of the trees and brush met his ears. Moments passed ever so slowly - it seemed the sky had gone from morning to midday when, now laying down and just starring at the opening. Softly tiny whimpers sounded and up he jumped. Then another yelp came, followed by a squeal. The dry leaves placed in the 'earth' as the den of a fox crumpled, a gentle cry from his mate beckoned him to enter.

As he went in he picked up his kill and placed it now in front of her. She whimpered. Soft eyes of the female meet his anxious ones. He blinked at her asking the question. She lifted her bushy, gray tail