The Great Fox Hunt
My friend Pete and I were not serious fox hunters, but a
chance encounter over 50 years ago made us dedicated fox hunters, at least for
that day. That frigid January morning,
we were dropped off by Pete’s father at our favorite squirrel woods. In the fall months we could ride our bikes to
our spot, but once the snow started to pile up our hunts were limited to the
times when someone would drive us. Fortunately,
Pete’s dad understood squirrel hunting and even occasionally joined us.
We didn’t plan the great fox hunt. And, it started on a bad note. There was six inches of fresh powdery snow on
the ground. This was a great place to
hunt squirrels because the woods were predominantly huge white oaks. We had trudged to a back corner of the
property where there were a series of swales, hills and ridges. It was there that we learned just how
unstable and slippery frozen oak leaves buried under powder snow are. The footing gave way out from under Pete as
we made our way down a hill and he tumbled.
He wasn’t hurt but the barrel of his .22 rifle had become plugged with
snow, dirt and bits of leaves from the fall.
There was nothing to do but agree to share my rifle the rest of the day.
As we climbed up the next hill Pete, topped it first and
stopped dead in his tracks. He signaled
for me to stop also. When he did wave me
forward I was cautious. “Darn, there he
goes!” Pete exclaimed. I hurried forward
just in time to see the tail end of a fox disappear over the next ridge
top. Pete explained that he and the fox
saw each other at the same time – both froze.
But when Pete waved me forward the fox turned and made straight for the
next hilltop. He couldn’t shoot of
course with his gun being jammed.
We hiked over to the place where we last saw the fox and
quickly made up our mind that squirrels were of no more interest. We would use the fresh snow to track the fox
down. How hard would that be? Our spirits were reinforced when his tracks
revealed that the fox hadn’t run far. He
had slowed down to a trot as soon as he was over the second ridge. This would be easy.
After two hours of tracking without a second sighting we
were frustrated but undeterred. Then the
fox made what we were sure was a fatal mistake and turned toward a large fallow
field that lay to the north. We hurried,
certain that we would at least catch sight of him as he crossed the field. All we saw, however, was more tracks. The fox made his way to a culvert – maybe he
was inside. Nope. Along the ice of the ditch there were a
number of fox tracks. Our fox walked
right into the middle of them. We spent
at least an hour sorting out our fox from all the others, at least we thought
we had.
The afternoon wore on and we wore out. We made our way out to the driveway where
Pete’s dad promised to pick us up at the end of the day. He just chuckled as we excitedly spun our
yarn, especially when we declared that we must have nearly caught up to that
fox and maybe we’d come back tomorrow and pick up the trail. “Boys”, he said, “You’d have much better luck
sticking to squirrels.”
Anyone seeking God can learn some lessons from the great fox
hunt: God never surprises us. If we stumble upon Him, even unexpectantly,
He never runs away. Those who read the
stories of the great saints should do so for inspiration, but they can’t walk
perfectly in the footsteps of St. Therese’s Little Way, because that was St.
Therese’s story. God is anxious to
reveal Himself to you in the way you can best find him. You have your own story. Those who seek God would have better luck if
they would decide to let themselves be found.
Happy hunting!
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Amanda Frank on Unsplash
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