We had a lot of rain in December, and the ground is still pretty water-logged.
Monday was clear, however, and so I went out Tuesday with Mountain and Pearl, hoping to locate something to ground despite weather that is too cold for groundhog, and too warm for fox.
The first farm I hit had some nice creeks but not too many trees. I was hoping to locate a raccoon. We walked a mile or two, and I checked a fox den that has produced for me a couple of times before, but the dogs found nothing but wet ground and some degraded deer tracks.
We packed up and hit the next place, which I expected to be a little dryer due to the lay of the land. The wind had picked up by now, and it was blowing hard.
Our entrance into the first field raised a massive flock of crows, which took to the air in a rather impressive display.
We walked a small distance to a couple of large new fields which had a lot of great old groundhog holes and excellent drainage. This looked like it would be a very productive place for me in the Spring or Summer. I would be back.
I crossed back towards some fields I had worked before. As we crossed through a hedge, Pearl and Mountain came to a fork in the path on the other side and Mountain headed right up the path while Pearl went left. I stayed at the fork, expecting the dogs to come back and all of us to work the hedge line together.
Pearl came back after a few minutes, but Mountain did not. I waited another 10 minutes, and then followed her up into the field. There were a lot of old groundhog holes here, but no Mountain. Pearl and I called and waited. Nothing.
Mountain had clearly found, and so I put down the tools, and proceeded to scout around. About 45 minutes later, I found Mountain. She had been underground, only a few hundred yards from where I downed the tools. Now she was covered in dirt and standing on top of the pipe. As soon as she knew I had seen her, she went back to ground again.
Pearl saw Mountain before I did, and got to the hole quicker too. She slid in, and when I arrived there was a lot of growling from below. It sounded almost like a raccoon, but I knew this was no coon -- not in the middle of a field. This was a fox.
Pearl let out a yelp, and exited with a small puncture and Mountain came out again from another pipe, with a big gash on her muzzle. I grabbed Pearl, the first dog up, and staked her out. By the time I had finished with Pearl, Mountain was back to ground again.
I ran back to get the tools, and boxed Mountain down about five feet, almost dead center between the two holes, and perhaps 5 feet up a side pipe -- or that's how I imagined the layout below ground. This was a plain old groundhog hole -- there was no kickout, as you will generally find in a natal fox den. It was still very early in the season.
After a decent dig, I got down to Mountain and pulled her to check her muzzle. I figured the fox had nowhere to go. I was wrong; the pipe broke into a "Y" right where Mountain had been baying. While I was checking over Mountain, the fox took the opportunity to leave the very short end of the pipe it was cornered in, and ducked up the longer leg of the den pipe. Such is life!
Mountain had an L-shaped gash on top of her muzzle, but it looked like it would glue up well, and she otherwise seemed to be in fine fettle. She certainly did not want to be staked out!
I let Mountain loose one more time to locate the fox in the longer arm of the side pipe. After she was up on the fox again, I boxed her for location. Through a small miracle, I managed to grab Mountain's tail as she backed up a little in the pipe -- excellent. I was not interested in having Mountain get injured any more than she was.
The wind had picked up now, and it was blowing about 35 miles per hour, gusting to 40. I did not notice it while I was digging, but if I stopped I could feel it cut into me. I was only wearing a T-shirt and long-sleeve, but a good hat and a neck cowl saved the day. Wind this strong can suck the juice out of you pretty fast.
I blocked the bolt hole while I dug down to the fox, who remained unseen. I eventually got down to it at about four feet, and cut away the edge of the pipe enough to take a few pictures. After that, I filled in all the holes except for the one exit hole for the fox, put both dogs on lead, and pulled off to allow the fox to bolt free when it was ready.
This very healthy and feisty fox would have no problem finding a new location to den in; there were more than a dozen good holes within a few hundred yards.
Long may it run. And may we meet again.
Another fox found and left to run off unharmed for another day.
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