Foxy Magic

Dusk was closing in as I headed home from work that evening.   It was cold, and all I wanted was to stretch out in front of a warm fire.   I was driving on autopilot, my mind on Marie’s beef stew.

Suddenly, there were two red eyes in the middle of the road, caught in the glare of my headlights, and closing rapidly.   I stamped on the brakes, pumping hard.  Then I felt the impact.

God, I’ve hit something!   It looked like a dog, somebody’s pet maybe?  I pulled into a lay-by to view the damage.  My front bumper was shattered, that would cost me a pretty penny.  I walked back to the still form lying in the road.   It was a fox.  

I could see the headlights of another vehicle approaching, so I grabbed its ruff and the root of its tail and dragged it onto the grass verge beside the road.   I sat on the kerb, shaken, and angry with myself.   My inattention had cost that fox its life. 

What if it had been a child?  I thought.

I heard rustling in the bushes and turned, to see two pairs of tiny eyes looking back at me, burning brightly in the glare of the passing headlights.  The car roared by and I sat motionless for several moments.  I watched as two tiny cubs waddled from the trees to nuzzle the dead vixen.   They started to suckle and I felt a lump in my throat.   My eyes filled with tears, what had I done?   I’d killed their mother and they probably wouldn't survive without her.

I pulled myself together and took out the remains of my lunch, a corned beef sandwich.  With trembling hands I broke off pieces and threw them towards the cubs.   One turned its nose up in disgust and walked away.   The other ate with gusto.

Ridiculous!  I thought, one corned beef sandwich isn’t going to fend off starvation.

The cub headed away into the trees as I carried out temporary repairs to my car, with gaffer tape.   Five minutes later I drove home, belatedly observing the 40mph speed limit.

.-...-.

 “Yer an eejot, Calum!” Marie yelled next morning, her cheeks flushed, and her red hair tousled, “Why should we waste good food on Vermin!   Dat’s what dey are, foxes, don’tcha know?”

“Just give me some slack on this one Marie,” I said attempting to defuse her Irish temper.  “If you’d just seen those eyes…”

“I can see the hole in yer head, fer sure I can!  Why I put up with ye is beyond me,” then, she placed an extra sandwich in a brown paper bag and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.   “Dis is a one off mind yez!”

.-...-.

On my way home that evening I stopped off in the same lay-by, and entered the small stand of trees.   I sat on a patch of dry leaves, beneath a sturdy sycamore, breaking the sandwich into small pieces.  I threw pieces so as to make a trail from where the cubs had appeared the previous evening, and waited.   Five, ten, fifteen minutes. 

I lay on my back gazing up through the trees, into the clouds and the sky beyond.   Breathing slowly and deeply, allowing the ripples of my presence to dissipate.   I listened to the whispers in the long grass and the rustling in the canopy overhead.  Then as my mind relaxed I felt calm and at peace, in a cocoon of solitude.   Finally just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar rustling sound; I’d heard it the previous evening, and many times in my restless sleep.

Two bright eyes fixed on me.   A moist black nose quivered, and it rushed towards the first piece of chicken in the chain that ended within two feet of my shoes.   Five minutes later there was nothing left.   I felt sad, only one of the cubs had returned.

.-...-.

“Yer as soft as shite, Calum!   Sure I can smell ye from here; Mr Softy!”  But, there was a playful edge to her voice and a sparkle in her eyes.  I think she was secretly pleased she'd discovered my feminine side, even if she didn’t agree with what I was doing.

“Marie, I don’t have time, I’ve got to get to work!” I protested in vain.  She kissed me and I kissed back, and… I was late for work.

.-...-.

Night followed day, and each evening found me sitting with my back against the bole of that sycamore.   Sometimes she came, sometimes not.   But, I left my offering anyway, and it was never there on my return.  

The routine was established.    Monday to Friday I visited the copse, and at the weekend she was left to fend for herself.   Marie drew the line at weekend visits. 

Two months on I was regarding the cub as a friend.   It seems strange now, that I never gave her a name.

One evening I pulled into the lay-by feeling tired.   As usual, I sat down to wait, and felt myself relaxing.   I must have dozed off, because I was awakened by a gentle tugging at my side.   She’d obviously waited a while, then when I didn’t move decided to help herself, by picking my pocket.   I remained still and observed her, through cracked eyelids, as she jiggled and wrestled the lunch bag from my pocket.   She opened it daintily, with teeth and paws, removed the sandwich and withdrew to a safe distance to eat.  Encouraged by her boldness I decided that in future she could work for her supper.   I no longer fed her, instead I allowed her to take the package herself.   This became our routine for the following month, come rain come shine, and there was plenty of rain.

My colleagues at the office had heard of Calum’s folly and tooted their horns as they passed, if my car was parked in the lay-by.   This didn't aid my meditation, but it was good natured and it made me smile.  

Then one evening in March, I wasn't feeling so good.   I felt tired, and generally deflated!    I remembered sitting down beside the tree.   I couldn't honestly say if I was awake or dreaming but I thought I heard a dog barking, and then it seemed to fade into the distance.

I awoke in hospital, thirty six hours later.

“You’ve had an extremely lucky escape Mr O’Maley,” said the doctor, a bright eyed young Indian woman.

“What happened,” I asked.

“I do believe there is a copy of the local newspaper somewhere around, yes her it is,” she said.  “You know you’re quite a celebrity since the story was published. 

“So, what have done?”

“Vell, you collapsed from a combination of exhaustion, and a nasty viral infection.   You may also have suffered a mild heart murmur.”

“So, what made that news worthy?”

“Your friend, Jeffrey Marchant, left the office half an hour after you.   He saw your car parked in a lay-by...   Here, read it for yourself.”   She smiled and handed me the local rag, and there was my ugly mug staring back at me, centre page.   The headline read:

Returning a Favour

Mr Calum O’Maley of Hullbridge, Essex spent the last three months feeding an orphaned fox cub.   But, on one of his feeding visits he collapsed.   The vixen ran out into the road and stopped a passing car driven by Jeff Marchant, Calum’s work colleague and friend.

 The damned thing stood in the road yapping like a dog and refused to move out of my way.   So, I got out of the car and it ran into the trees.   I went to get back into my car and it came out again to see if I was following; all the time it was yapping like Lassie.    So, turning my hazard lights on I followed her, and found my friend Cal lying unconscious under a tree.   I put Cal into the recovery position, and stepped away from the tree to get reception on my mobile phone, to call an ambulance.

Then, as calm as you like, the fox took a packet of sandwiches from Cal’s pocket.   She looked at me as if to say, I’m not a thief, this is my reward for saving his life.

I smiled at the story, but I was still pretty groggy.   So, I went back to sleep.

I could hear voices and somebody said let him sleep; then I smelt the food and opened my eyes, I was ravenous.

“Can I smell food?” I asked. 

Our celebrity is awake,” said the lady with the trolley, returning with two covered plates, a napkin and eating utensils.  “Shepherds pie, steamed broccoli and carrots,” she said with a smile, “would you like some gravy?”   I nodded.   “The pudding is stewed prunes and custard.”   Both plates were left on the tray at the foot of my bed.   I would have to get out of bed to eat.   I ate as though it were Marie’s Lamb stew with dumplings, then I dozed off again.

When next I opened my eyes Marie and Jeff were sitting either side of my bed.

“Damn it!  He’s awake, Marie.   S’pose that means we can’t eat his grapes?”   Jeff reached over and took a handful anyway and proceeded to pop them into his mouth one by one.

“I owe you one pal,” I said, “you saved my life,” I offered him my hand.  He popped the last few grapes into his mouth, wiped his hand on his shirt front and shook my hand.

“Not guilty Cal, if it hadn’t been for your pet fox I would never have stopped!”

At the mention of the cub I jumped up in alarm.    “She’ll be starving by now how long have I been out…”

“Ye’ve no worries on dat score, Jeff and the lads have been taking turns to drop off food fer her,”

Jeff chuckled.   “Last night it was Aziz Khan.   I heard he left Bombay potatoes, Keema naan, and lamb curry.”

I laughed, “Wonder what she made of that?”  

The bell rang, to mark the end of visiting time, so Jeff grabbed another handful of grapes and ran.   “I’ll call in tomorrow Cal, could you get him some black grapes tomorrow Marie?”

Marie leaned over to kiss me. “Do dey allow conjugal visits?”

“I’ll have to ask,” I said, she left me, smiling...

.-...-.

When I was allowed home, I tried to return to the old routine, but the cub was no longer a cub, she was getting bigger. Her visits became less frequent as time passed.   Then one day, towards the end of May, I heard a rustling in the bushes and saw a tiny cub looking back at me.   Its mother appeared and I suddenly realized that she was now full grown.   She pushed the tiny cub with her muzzle, and it approached me, nervously, on unsteady legs, looking back several times.

 What came next was pure magic; there are no other words for it.  The cub thrust its head into my pocket, grabbed the sandwich bag and ran.   So fast it tripped over the bag and turned somersaults in the high grass.   It returned to retrieve the bag, running back to its Mother who had now been joined by an adult male.  They gazed back at me for several moments, then they were gone.

I visit the glade occasionally, but they haven't returned.   I feel sad but elated, because life goes on.

Looking back, that final visit was her way of telling me she was fully grown, with a family of her own and didn't need my help anymore; a final farewell.  

When I told Marie, she said, “Tank god, I don’t have to share yez any more.   Maybe now ye’ll even get home in time for yer meals?  Now dat would be magic!   But, I tink ye’d still be workin overtime.”   She gave me that look.

“Marie, I’ll be late for work!”

She kissed me…