"The Fox and the Fisherman"

By: Lee Kelley

I caught it out of the corner of my eye, just the slightest flash of fur. I wasn't sure of the color, but I was sure that it was fur. There it was again, a spot of fur bouncing above the sometimes very tall grasses, which grow along the river. The fur got my attention and it was heading my way. With the sun full behind me the fur seemed to be somewhat blonde to brown. This is the color of most bears around here. I became very still as I stepped off of the animal trail I was standing on, the suspense had turned to concern and maybe a little fear when a large red fox with blonde tips jumped up on a large hummock and began to check me out with apparent authority. What a relief it was only a fox.

Size and distance across the tundra at times can play tricks on the eyes and the mind of even the most skilled guides. If you have ever seen a bear stand up from the tundra you would know how well they can conceal them selves.

Now Mr. Fox was sizing me up as I began to fish again keeping one eye on a very old and large red fox for now only fifty feet away. I began talking to Mr. Red Fox, I asked how he was doing, was there any bears in the area that I needed to be aware of, things like that.

Now Mr. Fox was moving a tad bit closer settling down right next to an open fishing lure container. We continued to size each other up although it was clear from the beginning that I had a higher opinion of Mr. Fox then he had of me. I could feel his glare as he watched every thing that I did. During this time I began to fish again when wham bam thank-you King Salmon, as a fairly large King Salmon nearly ratcheted the fishing rod out of my hand as the fish began to make a very long run. The drag on the fishing reel began to peel away screeching as each inch of monofilament was pulled away from the reel. Surely by now Mr. Red Fox would be a little more impressed. As I looked at the big red fox he just yawed and licked his lips, then his front right paw as he set down still watching me. Finally the struggle with the fish was nearing the end as I worked the nice sized salmon to the bank; a good solid thirty-five pounds and mint bright, fresh from the sea. I reached down and slipped the barbless hook from the fish's mouth. Then stabilized the fish so that it could regain its strength before heading back to the river depths. Slowly and gently I moved the fish back and fourth allowing water to pass through his gills until all at once with a great surge of power the fish disappeared into the river depths. Certainly by now Mr. R. Fox my new friend would be impressed. As I looked at the beautifully serious fox he once again yawned, licked his lips one more time than walked toward me keeping his eyes fixed right on me. It was great the fox and I had made some sort of bond or so I thought. The big guy moved a little closer then sat right next to my tackle container, looked at me real hard then with the tip of his nose my gear was flipped high into the air. The fox paused just one more time to look at me, I don't know if a fox could laugh, but if he could this one had a definite grin on his face as he bounced away, the same way that he had came.