Wabi

I KNEW VERY LITTLE ABOUT life outside our nest. But as that fox’s mouth opened even wider, I realized that I had now learned two new things. The first was that foxes have very bad breath. The second was that my own life was apparently going to be very short.

I didn’t like what was about to happen at all. It wasn’t having my little hollow bones crunched between those drooling jaws that bothered me the most, although I certainly didn’t look forward to it. It was being unable to do anything about it. Even more than to escape, I wanted to fight back.

I clacked my beak again and struggled against the blackberry thorns. I was so agitated that I was actually able to free one of my legs. Without hesitation, I thrust my foot out toward my enemy’s face, claws first. To my surprise, my long middle talon poked the fox right in his black nose.

“YOWP!” The fox jumped back and shook his head. He was even more surprised than I was. A little drop of red appeared on the tip of his nose.

“Little Food, why did you do that?” the fox growled. “Yes, why? I held no resentment toward you, no. I was feeling quite fond of you before you did that. Why, yes, why?”

I didn’t answer. There was no point, really. I just kept my eyes on him and my one free foot ready.

“Ah,” the fox said, the grin coming back onto his face, “the Little Food does not answer me. I was just going to eat him in one quick gulp, yes. But now I think I will first pull out all his feathers. Then I will eat him just one little bite at a time. Yes, I will.”

He took a step toward me and I thrust my talons out at him again. This time, though, he stepped back before I could make contact.

“Oh, how sweet. The Little Food likes to fight,” the fox said. His voice was amused again. “But he is still stuck in the thorny, thorny bushes. Yes, he is. He will not be able to see me if I go behind him. No. So that is what I will do. Yes, yes, I will.”

The fox began to move off to one side, as smooth as rainwater flowing down the trunk of a tree. I tried to follow him with my eyes, but he was right. I was caught so tightly I could not turn my body. A few more steps and he was out of my line of vision.

But even though I could no longer see the fox, I could still hear him. Not that it did me any good. My ears picked up every stealthy footstep, the sound of his slow breathing, even the beating of his heart. Then, though I was not completely certain, I thought I heard something else too. Something that was not the fox.

“Now, what shall I do first to the Little Food?” said the self-satisfied fox. “Shall I pull out his tail feathers and show them to him one by one? Yes, I will do that.”

“Ahem,” said another, deeper voice. “Are you sure that is what you will dooo?”

That second voice too came from behind me. I could not see who was speaking. But my owl ears told me that this other being was both large and looking down at the fox as it spoke to him.

“Eeep,” the fox said. His voice was not at all self-satisfied now. I could hear his heart beat faster.

“Ah,” the fox said, his feet moving him backward and away from me as he spoke. “Ah, that is, I mean to say not at all. No, not at all. And now, yes, now I have remembered that I must go somewhere else. Yes, I must go. Right now!”

There was the sound of feet scrabbling in the leaves as the fox made a rapid turn and started to run. Then there was a bonking sound and an “Ouch!” as the fox’s head hit the tree behind him. More frantic sounds of fleeing fox feet followed.

“Excuse me,” the deep voice said. “I think he still needs a little reminder about who is food and whooo is not.”

It was the soft beat of wings that would be silent to any other than owl ears. And next came a more distant, but louder, noise.

My ears showed me the picture of a fox being lifted up into the air.

“No, I say, no. Put me down. Not from this high, no. Yooowwp.”

The thud of the fox hitting the ground after being dropped was followed, after a brief silence, by the sound of a fox trying to skulk away quietly, despite the necessity of having to limp while doing so.

The wingbeats came back again and then the flying creature landed in front of me. Even upside down I could see that it was another owl. It was not my mother, but an older owl.

I could also see that this new owl had a friendly look on her face and the tip of a fox’s tail hanging from her beak.

“Great-grandson,” she said in a warm, deep voice, dropping the piece of fur to one side as she spoke, “let us get you out of those briars.”