Human Nature

The crisp, crunching sound of snow under Al’s foot sent sparrows darting from their hiding places, chirping out warnings of an encroaching stranger. The snowshoer avoided the cones of snow around each tree and stayed within the pathways of the known backcountry trail. Hearing a whimpering nearby, he paused as the snow continued to fall, blanketing both land and sky with white fluffy cotton. Following the sounds of the weak cries, he discovers a bloody scene next to a spruce tree, where a hunter’s trap had been laid. All around the trap was blood splattered here and there, with a trail of the crimson spots leading northward along with small footprints; that of a common red fox. As Al approached the animal, he knew time was of the essence, and he immediately bundled up the injured leg which had been badly mangled by the metal trap. Too weak to even growl, the fox limply allowed itself to be carried by the man, who walked as fast as he could back to his truck, trying to remember the way back to town. He knew that the nearest veterinarian was several kilometres away, which meant time was of the essence and that every minute counted. Putting the red fox in the backseat, he gently covered it with a winter jacket, urging the animal to hold on, and for a moment, the fox lifted its head and looked at his rescuer, as if thanking him, before falling back into unconsciousness awaiting his fate.