The badger is fossorial, which means it is adapted for digging and life underground. They often find prey by digging up their burrows.
—Animal Wisdom
If I had it my way, I would definitely want to disappear in a hole right now, badger style.
Sometimes bad things happen, and no matter how much you try to bury yourself with your blanket, the world isn’t going to go away. At least that’s what Mom said. The next day, I had my next session at Safe Haven.
Wrapping my scarf around my neck, I tucked the ends into my coveralls and followed Kate deep into the woods where the cages were. It was hard to believe so little time had passed since my last visit to Safe Haven, especially since so much had happened. Best friendship meltdowns. Broken bones. And I was even a real teenager now.
Instead of feeling psyched and happy to be here, I felt like crawling in a hole and hibernating until springtime. Maybe bears had it all figured out. I had spent the night half starting text messages to Liv, only to end up deleting them. And she hadn’t sent me any either.
“Ready to see your friend?” Kate asked, a glint of excitement in her eyes. She zipped up a thick, fleecy vest over her usual coveralls.
My spirits lifted a teensy notch. I was dying to see the fox that Mom had saved since my first day, but Kate had said earlier it would be best to wait for him to recover awhile longer. “Can I?” I asked. “I know Mom said that you were strict about people hanging around the animals unless it was absolutely necessary.”
She nodded. “I’d say you earned your stripes—or should I say spots?—the last time you were here. I need to do a quick check on your fox today before the release. You can join in. We’ll feed the squirrels while we’re back there. You take the bucket of pellets and the water, and I’ll grab the fruit.”
Struggling with my cast, I used my fingertips to tug a mitten onto my good hand. I had figured school would be difficult to navigate with a cast, but I had totally underestimated how hard it would be to volunteer at the wildlife center with a bum hand. Already I felt like I was holding her up. Hoisting the food bucket up to my elbow, I rolled my eyes.
“Sorry,” I mumbled to her as she waited for me to tug my other mitten over my bulky cast. “This thing doesn’t do anything but get in the way.” I gritted my teeth to hide my annoyance.
“Not a problem,” she said, eyeing me carefully. “You’re doing fine. I’m sorry that you got hurt on your birthday. Your mother called to let me know,” she explained when I gave her a questioning look.
“The doctor said I had to keep it on for six weeks,” I grumped. Following her down the path behind the clinic farther into the woods, I kicked a pebble with my boot. I felt a small blip of satisfaction when it ricocheted off a tree trunk with a sharp thwack.
When we reached the squirrel cages, I set the bucket of chow on the ground and began counting pellets. The cages were built deep in the woods, so the injured squirrels would be as close to nature as possible while they healed. The cages were bigger than I expected, taller than I was. Every day, Kate and the other volunteers made sure they had fresh water, new branches from nearby trees so they didn’t get bored, and a handful of food.
“Each squirrel gets three pellets, right?” I asked, yanking off my mitten to count.
She nodded. “That’s right,” she said. “Cage A has four squirrels, B has three, and C has another four. So that’s…” She trailed off, letting me do the math.
“Thirty-three pellets total.” I scrunched up my nose.
Grinning, she gave me a thumbs-up, then went back to sticking a trail of fresh grapes through the bars onto the wooden struts. “Told you that you wouldn’t need to take notes for everything.” She winked. “The chow can be stuck in through the cages with the rest of the fruit, but you’ll need to open the door to give them fresh water and stick in some new branches. I’ll man the door so nobody escapes before they’re ready.”
I took a deep breath. The last thing I wanted right now was an escapee on my watch. Grabbing the strap of the heavy canteen, I slung it over my shoulder and started to unlock the latch of the door. Peeking in, I tried to locate each of the squirrels so they couldn’t surprise me and escape. Their beady black eyes watched me intently, skittering close to where Kate had placed the grapes.
“Nobody freak out now,” I begged them, stepping in as fast as I could. My cast got caught on the door as I tried to shove it closed from the inside.
“Watch yourself,” Kate said calmly. “You don’t want to ruin all that lovely artwork.”
I sighed, shaking my head. One thing I’d learned about having a cast is that everyone wanted to sign it. Kate might think all the signatures and messages from friends were “artwork,” but right then I could have had an original Picasso painting on my cast and I’d still be annoyed.
With the door firmly shut, I changed the water while Kate hacked off some small branches from nearby trees.
When we were finished with the first cage, that familiar thrill ran through me again as I stepped out and relocked it. All those squirrels would be dead if it wasn’t for us helping them, and soon they would be ready to be released again. The rest of the cages went faster, and soon we were heading farther into the woods, toward the large mammal enclosure.
“Now,” Kate said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “We’ll need to be extremely quiet. Foxes are incredibly skittish around people, and we want it to stay that way. She was looking quite out of sorts when she first arrived after your mother treated her, but I’m hoping she will be ready for release soon.” She gestured to the large fence up ahead of us. “Here she is.”
“Wait. It’s a girl?” I gawked at Kate.
She winked. “Indeed she is. Sometimes animals surprise you!”
My heart skipped a beat as we approached closer. Willing my boots to step only on the quiet patches of dirt, I tiptoed to the fence. The enclosure was like a huge wire-fence box, with wooden corners keeping the whole thing intact. Inside, it looked like a giant woodland playground, with log beams, rocks, thick trees, and even a kiddie pool filled with half-frozen water.
And in the center of it all, curled up under a large, man-made rock cliff with her tail tucked around her snout, was my fox.
Okay, not my fox. But I couldn’t help but feel a little protective of her, you know? I’d been there when she was stitched up, so that had to mean something. Her ears twitched in the breeze as we stepped closer. I couldn’t help but wonder: Did she remember me like I remembered her?
A shiver zipped through me as she locked eyes with me. The rusty orange flickered like gemstones against her reddish fur. “She looks so much better!” I whispered.
Kate lifted her chin to peek through some of the trees in front of us. “Certainly has an appetite,” she said. “That’s good news.” She pulled out her notebook and scribbled a few lines.
I gulped. Now that I was looking closer, I could see something small and furry on the rock in front of her.
Meat.
“Voles,” Kate said, reading my mind.
I watched in awe as she stood, stretching her rump high in the air with her front paws digging into the ground. Her big, fluffy tail flicked at the air playfully. She lowered her head to chomp away on the meat at her feet. Her shiny, white canines were easy to spot, even from where we stood. And she was still wearing her blue bandage.
“Hey,” I said, stifling my giggle. “We match.” I held up my cast and waved it at Kate. “We both have hurt paws.”
She nudged my shoulder playfully as we watched her eat. “Hopefully you’re not as messy an eater as she is.” She popped an almond from her pocket into her mouth and gave me a sly smile. “You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this particular fox.”
I looked up at her. “It’s not? Has she been hurt before?”
“Do you see that tiny orange tag fixed to her ear? It looks like a small earring.” Kate leaned over, pointing through the fence.
I squinted. The tag was tiny, and against the orangey fur in her ears, it was easy to miss. “Is that an ID tag?” I asked. I’d heard that people sometimes tag animals to keep track of them in the wild.
“Indeed,” Kate said, eating another almond. “She was here when she was a kit. Her mother had been hit by a car, and she and her two siblings were brought in. They were tagged then for some local researchers. Imagine my surprise when I examined her after she was dropped off last week!” she said, eyes twinkling.
“Whoa,” I said, turning back to the fence. “So she’s had a pretty tough life so far. Losing her mom, and then getting hurt again.” A lump formed in my throat as I watched her. She was so beautiful, and I wished there were something I could do to go back in time so she still had her mom’s help growing up.
Kate nodded. “She has. But most animals—most everyone—has challenges. I wouldn’t have recognized her if it hadn’t been for the tag,” she said.
“Has she changed a lot? I mean, can you tell some animals are the same when you meet them again sometimes?” I took the almond that Kate was offering me. For some reason, pocket germs didn’t seem so scary now.
Kate looked thoughtful. “Growing up can be tough, and it’s no different if you’re a wild animal with a big family like a fox or a tiny turtle that never gets to meet her parents. When she was here first as a wee thing, she was playful like all kits. Despite being in a rough state, she was open and curious. Now,” Kate said, snuggling deeper into her scarf, “she’s a lot more careful. And much more skittish. Life teaches some hard lessons. Foxes are very resilient though.”
“That’s good,” I said. A warm feeling spread through my chest. Something about Kate’s mellow Australian accent seemed to make me feel a little better.
“Sometimes, though,” she continued, “I catch a glimpse of that little kit again.” Her face broke into a wide smile. “Yesterday, she chased a bug through her pen, exactly like she did when she was a youngster! She may have changed growing up, but I think that little troublemaker is still in there!” Something about Kate’s nostalgic eyes stuck in my mind. She gestured for me to look back at the fox, which was now chasing her tail like a dog. A goofy dog.
“Do you think I could come when she’s released?” I asked Kate. Now more than ever, I knew I wanted to be there when he was set free. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”
Kate hoisted the food bucket back up over her shoulder. “I had a feeling you’d ask.” She grinned sneakily. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“And I was wondering…” I started, unsure of how to ask. “Would you mind if I filmed you working for a few minutes? It’s for a project. Hopefully a project that will get me out of a bad grade.” I grimaced.
Kate’s eyebrows lifted curiously. “A project, hmm? On excellent fashion choices, no doubt.” She brushed off her filthy coveralls playfully and struck a pose, fluffing her short, silver hair.
I laughed. “It’s about the things that influenced us this year,” I said, squirming against the cold. “I don’t think I’d feel right if I didn’t include you and this awesome place.”
She pursed her lips as we turned around to head back to the clinic. “Ana, I would be honored,” she said. Then, turning to me with that fierce glimmer in her eyes, she added, “But don’t think that’s going to get you out of skunk duty.”