Mr. Write's Page

More about my daily walks with Jake…

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Of all the walkable places we frequent, the green space at the Jefferson Clubhouse and City Park delivers the most action.

The Clubhouse, which the city makes available for parties and meetings, sits atop a hill adjacent to a large woods. At the base of the hill are the Boy Scout building, the peewee league ballfields, and a large duck pond.

Much of the area is grass-covered and under a canopy of trees. The city keeps everything nicely maintained, so it’s a pleasant and picturesque spot.

Better still, Jake and I usually have the place to ourselves. Unless an event is taking place at the clubhouse, or the Scouts are meeting, or the playground is occupied, all is quiet.

For that reason, we often come upon deer grazing on the slopes. Sometimes, we will emerge from behind the Clubhouse building and there, mere yards away, will be a few whitetail deer looking at us.

For a few seconds, time stands still. Then Jake reacts and strains at the leash, and the deer scamper off into the woods.

Deer sightings are a special treat for Jake, even though they happen all the time. Once or twice a week, he watches groups of them pass through the woods beyond my back fence.

Inevitably, he gets excited, and running ensues. Seeing deer, like encountering fellow canines around town, never gets old.

The situation was different with the ducks at the city pond. For a while, Jake was excited and curious and wanted to approach them.

Although he’s a herding dog, his intention when chasing cats and squirrels clearly isn’t to herd them. I’m always careful to keep him restrained.

But with the ducks, the novelty soon wore off. A duck isn’t a deer. Now he ignores them.

When we arrived at the Clubhouse one morning recently, a light rain was falling. The rain gear came out, and we started down this slope behind the Clubhouse.

Simultaneously, from deep in the woods, came the baying of hounds.

Apparently, several dogs were in pursuit of unknown prey. For a time, their vocalizing moved steadily through the woods from right to left.

Then, abruptly, the baying stopped. We could hear the dogs crashing and snuffling in the undergrowth. They had lost the scent. The prey had eluded them, probably doubled back.

An image came to mind of a fox being pursued by hounds. I imagined the appearance of men on horseback and cries of “Yoicks and away!”

Well, no hunters appeared, but a fox did.

He had, indeed, outfoxed the dogs and doubled back. He popped out of the woods not 10 yards from us.

He was a large, yellowish-red adult, sleek and healthy. He briefly looked us over, but we were a secondary matter. His first priority was losing the dogs, who were not far away.

He turned and sprinted back to the left across 20 yards of grass, veered into the woods, and was gone. This was a fox with strong survival skills.

I thought Jake would want to take off after the fox. But, like me, he simply watched the drama unfold. We could have been watching television.

The fox was gone, and we heard no more from the hounds. The rain had let up a bit. We continued on to the duck pond to see what we could see.

A few weeks ago, we had arrived at the pond to find a dog on the loose, barking hysterically and chasing the ducks. Feathers flew as they flapped and quacked in panic, but the dog never came close to catching one.

As we watched, a man came running from the adjacent neighborhood. Shouting and cursing, he herded the dog back home. The ducks calmed down, and the pond was its pastoral self again.

Another day, another adventure.

Happy New Year.