The other day the kids and I were going about our day as usual, when Jada suddenly heard Dirty Wilson (our Rooster) going crazy, making the noise he does when there is danger. As I ran to get my shoes on, she looked out the back window and gasped as she yelled, “There’s a fox!”
Sure enough, as soon as I ran out the back door I was just a few feet away from a little red fox. The chickens were all huddled in the trees nearby, doing their best to stay quiet. I yelled at it, “Shoo! Shoo, fox!” as I rushed toward it trying to scare it away. But it didn’t run as I’d expected it to. Instead, it slowly turned and walked a little further away, then stopped to look at me again. By this time both Titus and Jada were outside with me, curious to see the fox up close.
All of the commotion roused our sleeping Great Pyrenees. He came walking out from his shady place, casually stretched for a moment, and meandered over to me to see what was going on. There you are! I thought. He is supposed to be chasing these things away, after all! “Go get him, Rebel!” I commanded. But the dog just sat there, with his long tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
“Rebel, go get him!” I commanded once again. Nope. He still just sat, panting, looking everywhere but at the fox, which was about 15 feet in front of us! I grabbed the big buffoon’s massive noggin and turned it to face the direction of the fox. “See the fox?! Look! Look, Rebel!” I pointed my finger directly at the creature, who was fearlessly sitting there before us. “There’s the fox! See him? Go get him!!” But the good for nothing dog looked right past the critter! I thought for sure he’d pick up its scent or something. But no. Nothing.
I told the kids, “Common’, I’m gonna get the gun.” We all rushed back inside, and I got my shotgun loaded. Ty ran to his room and got his wooden shotgun toy to “help” Mommy.
I quickly went back out, the kids close behind me, and we looked in the direction we’d last seen the fox. The dog had returned to his slumbering place. We stood for a moment, peering through the trees to see if we could spot the fox again, but it was nowhere to be seen. I figured it was gone, so we went to the chicken coops to gather a couple of eggs. Then suddenly we heard the rooster squawking from within the woods behind us, and Jada yelled, “There’s the fox!”
It came running out of the trees right in front of us. I fumbled to put the eggs down, take the safety off of my gun, and aimed and fired in the direction the fox was running. As soon as that loud shot sounded, Rebel came running out of the woods back towards us. Oh good! Now he’s going to chase the fox! I thought. But in the blink of an eye the dumb dog ran right past me, in the opposite direction of the fox, and disappeared into the woods. Good for nothin’! I quickly shot a second round, and hit the fox in the hind quarters, though not well enough as he was still running. I lined up my gun, and shot one last time, but the fox made his way into the trees and was gone. We heard a whimpering in the distance, so me and the kids went looking for it, though we never did find where it went.
When we were satisfied that the fox was gone, and the chickens were safe once more, we all headed back inside, Ty with his toy gun slung over his shoulder. I was reminded of the movie The Fox and The Hound, so I just couldn’t help but muster my best Amos Slade impression as I said to the kids, “That thievin’ fox was after my chickens!” We all laughed.
And the dog… oh he eventually came back home later that night.