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A Conversation With A Snared Fox At The Edge Of A Field
I: How did this happen? You must have seen that the wire was barbed
F: I was hungry. And there are berries beyond the fence
I: But now you’re snared. Your leg is cut down to the bone. You’ve cut your mouth open too, trying to bite through the wire
F: What’s a little blood and bone? We all come down to it in the end
I: Was it worth it?
F: You must be young, yet. What’s worth got to do with living? If you’re hungry, you hunt. If something goes wrong, bite through it. You’ve got teeth for a reason, don’t you? Those aren’t pearls set in your gums
I: You’ll die of infection now
F: Dying’s just another way to pass the time. Flies come for all of us, but there will be more. There is always more.
I: More what?
F: More everything. More life, more barbed wire, more berries beyond the fence, more blood spotting the grass here. I will come back to these woods and I will be hungry and I will risk being cut open just to taste something sweet
I: But won’t you remember what happened the last time?
F: Yes, but mostly I will remember my mouth filling with want. A wire or berries — a new life or a memory — it makes no difference. I will want a taste of it
F: What are you remembering, that makes you hesitate at the edge of the field? Which of your lives is this?
